Reminders:
- english is not my first language.
- this is just fanfiction. i don't intend to influence your beliefs.
- expect mistakes.
- this is hanging at the edge of a cliff. just a prompt, really.
[ STORY ]
"Row, row, row you boat gently down the streams.
Merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream."
The tune played eerily, casting shivers from the crowd. Every thing was chaotic, there were cries, lamenting voices and misfortunes in the air, it was nearly suffocating even for the god watching over from the high deck of the ship.
"Row, row, row you boat gently down the streams.
Merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream."
He watched as they marched on the shaky entrance. The soul guards grunted, pushing unpaid spirits trying to climb up the ferry. There were loud dings echoing at the docks as the machine ate gold cards fed by bustling passengers who waited in line. Some were unhurried as if they'd embraced their fates, some were doubting but they had no choice. They were dead. Their souls were already brought out from the living world.
The interstellar galaxy was immense, thus, death is everywhere. His ship groaned heavily as it catered souls collected by hermes' hands. Ten systems had been cleared, this one was the last scene for this day. And so, that was why all corners and crooks are filled to the brim, casting his ride darker than usual.
"You really have one hell of a job here," said a voice, deep and callous. A muscly and thick arm laid heavy on his shoulders, pulling him close to the warm, live body of the intruder.
He shrugged, trying to push the man off his circle. Not only did he not succeed, his cloak was dragged off, showing parts of his being that even stars had to shy from. His irritation grew.
"Beauty," said the man in an ambiguous tone. It was rather creepier than finding Hades sneaking men behind his overbearing queen.
"Get off."
"Not until we arrive."
Charon grunted, face full of displeasure as he remained watching over his job. His attention was not on it though, but is being poured to the one who forced him to drive beyond the vast Acheron as many times as his fourteen versions of reincarnation.
"Heracles."
"It was not my intention."
He looked at the face of the man performing indecency and claiming false. The hero's eyes were warm, serious and promising, eyes that he had trusted in the first, second and thirds of his lives but brought him nothing but chains of demise. Heart turned cold and unfeeling, the fascination had gone through many pains that he was numb of it. But, he can never deny, and would never tell, Heracles held the most of his rotting sanity and emotions.
"We're setting off."
