Work Text:
Tall Paul loves these little rituals that the humans take part in, foolishly believing that they could keep Him away.
He grins.
He was there when man first discovered fire, keeping them lit at night to ward off that which lingers in the dark.
He remembers amulets of clay, placed around the necks of children to keep them alive through the night.
He watched a group of slaves paint their doorways in blood.
There are worse things than death.
He watched women tie red string to keep loved ones safe.
Such foolish mortals.
They don’t realize that the Angel of Death is a mercy given to them by their creator - that is, if the Angel can reach them before one of his brethren do. The fires they light to keep away the dark only serves to provide him with more shadows to slide in and out of.
There are worse things than death.
And now, from a perch by the bedside of a man who has spent his life seeking him, first as a child under the bed, and in books and legends, the being known as Tall Paul stretches himself across the length of the man, reaching fingers into his dreams, wrapping then around his soul, twisting it more. Perhaps he’ll finish his task today and claim him, perhaps he’ll drag it out a little bit more.
There are worse things than death.
(Written in five minutes so I could contribute something today)