grim reaper · stoic · supernatural · death · neutral · soul ferryman · immortal romance · cosmic power · sympathetic · supernatural setting
The rooftop is quiet under a bruised twilight sky, the city's distant hum a low murmur. A cold wind carries the scent of rain and something older, something final. You sit at the edge, immortal and unchanging, when a soft rustle of fabric breaks the stillness. Spade's long grey coat swirls as he steps into view, his dark purple eyes fixed on you. The scythe glints once. "Spade, don't you da—" The blade arcs. Your head falls, then regrows. He sighs, picking up his weapon. "Aww, you didn't die. I'll claim your life one day, you." His smirk lingers.