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DevastationTale was an oddly peaceful au. Despite its name it was calm, gentle, and home to a skeleton named Destruction. This skeleton was nimble, and oftentimes rather sickly. He was practically on his deathbed, and yet, he always found a way to smile. One night was more cold than the others though, and Destruction's housemate had been gone for the week, thus leaving the frail skeleton on his own.

As the sun set the wintery weather would settle in, chilling even the wood so that it was cold to the touch.

Destruction however, never minded the cold, despite how frail he was. He would make a cup of hot chocolate and would sit in his bed, observing the outside world as the gentle snow fell peacefully upon the ground below. Yet this night was different to the others. This time Destruction had an unknown visitor which sat at his windowsill.

Destruction by far though was not alarmed by this newcomer, and instead offered to make him a drink as well. The cloaked figure, wings as dark as night as his silvery coat held fluff along its trim and inside, would question how the other wasn't alarmed, or afraid of his visit.

Destruction simply remarked that no one in this au meant harm to one another, and any stranger could become a friend once they got to know one another.

Then the cloaked figure would ask Destruction if he knew who he was.

Destruction only smiled, tainted pale bones with crimson markings holding a freshly made cup of hot chocolate to the stranger before answering.

Of course he knew, the other was Death.

With a smile of his own that showed in Death's silvery eyes, he would accept the cup as the wintry wind blew in.

He would ask if Destruction knew why he was here, chilled ivory bones tenderly holding the warm cup as Destruction returned to his bedside, sitting atop of the plush covers.

Destruction would hum, a faint laugh and cough escaping him as his mismatched gaze observed the newcomer. Of course he knew, the other was here to guide his life to the afterlife.

With an acknowledging hum, Death would observe the other curiously for a moment before giving the other an offer that Destruction hadn't expected.

And, if I were to offer you a chance at something more, would you take it, friend? This is what Death had asked him that night.

To leave behind your current life, and start anew?

Destruction would think for a moment. This new life that Death had offered, would it be a repeat of his current one, or something new?

After a moment of thought, Destruction would look up at Death, a curious glint in emerald and amber eyes. He would ask if he would remember his past life, this life.

Death would simply smile, before telling the other that the choice was his own.

After a moment longer of debating, Destruction would stand, a pale crimson cloak being put around himself as he would sit beside Death, smiling warmly at the other. He told the other his choice, and offered his chilled hand to his new friend.

Death would only smile back before accepting Destructions' hand, and for once in the pale skeleton's life, he felt no pain, no sickness, no weakness. He felt warm, and content.

Then his world had fallen into darkness, and the new life Death had promised him, had started anew.

When Destruction awoke, he felt..nothing? Confused, the glitch would sit up slowly and look around.

All around the frail skeleton was snow? Yet, he felt nothing from it. Squinting down at the fluffy white substance. This... was snow, wasn't it? The glitch would think as he'd scoop up a pile of the snow into his hands, brushing pale crimson fingertips into its mass.

Tilting his head curiously, the glitch would look around, confusion showing in his mismatched gaze as he would slowly stand. His legs felt weak, yet at the same time, he felt numb.

Dropping the snow, the skeletal being would slowly start to walk aimlessly. He didn't know where he was, except for the fact he was in a snowy field. Yet as he walked he wouldn't tire, this was odd to Destruction, yes, but he figured sooner or later the sense of pain would return.

And so, while the glitch waited for the sensation to return, he would continue walking... and walking... and walking. He would keep his pace until he came across a town, thus making him to halt in his steps.

With a curious glint in his eyes, the skeletal being would peer into what seemed to be an abandoned town. It felt familiar to him, yet at the same time not so much.

Venturing into the town, cobble paths crackling under each step, he would peer at each house, each store, each pathway, everything. He would look for any signs of life, and yet there was none.

This was odd to him, very odd. He had only heard of such places in the stories he had read in the past.

Yet as he continued walking, he would hear a slight whisper. This would cause him to instantly freeze-up and spin around. A startled expression now adorning the glitch's face as he looked around for any sight of the source to the sound. And yet, he would see none.

Exhaling silently, breath a faintly visible cloud against the icy air around him, the skeleton would turn, nearly releasing a startled yelp as he came face-to-face with Death himself.

Stumbling backwards, one of the cobble pebbles would come loose, thus resulting in the glitch tripping and falling onto his back. He would wince upon the contact out of habit before blinking. He felt nothing from the fall.

Surprised, the glitch would gaze down at the cobble, running one of his hands over the smooth surface curiously before trailing his gaze back upward at Death.

Destruction would ask what Death had done with him, where he brought him.

Death's response though was that of patience, and of how all would be revealed with time.

This had caused the glitch some irritation, pushing himself upward, he would ask once more for Death to explain what had happened.

However Death only repeated his response.

Huffing slightly out of irritation, Destruction would grip at Death's cloak, glaring up at the other as he felt his rage building, glitches increasing. However Death simply looked back with an unphased expression.

Destruction would demand this time, where were they? What had death done with everyone, with him?

A silent sigh would escape Death, his cold bony hands overlapping Destruction's as his silver gaze pierced the other.

He told Destruction to be patient, that there was all the time in the world for him to explain, for Destruction to listen.

As Death spoke though, Destruction's gaze would grow hazy, legs weakening as his grip tightened. He felt pain spiking through his legs to his soul, causing him to squeeze his eye sockets shut.

He would accept Death's answer, grip weakening as he felt his legs give-out under himself. Yet as he reopened his eyes, he would find himself being carried. Something he hadn't expected at all, much less for it to be Death who was holding him as he walked.

Yet as this happened, he felt the pain fading, and a calm sense overlapping his soul.

With a silent word of thanks to Death, Destruction would rest, allowing Death to bring him to wherever fate might bring the two.

When Destruction awoke, he found himself in a large chair, a crimson scarf and a coat draped over himself. While he couldn't feel the warmth, he felt at ease with it, he didn't understand why, but he appreciated it. Closing his eye sockets once more, he would sink into the imaginary embrace of the cloth, burying his face in the fur which decorated the inside of it. He'd listen to the absent crackling of the fireplace which was lit nearby, feeling the soft velvety fabric of the chair which he sat on. As he listened, and felt, all of these things around himself, he'd hear the wooden floorboards creaking at the slightest pressure as someone approached. He could've sworn he could even sense the very existence of the other.

As he opened his eyes, his gaze would go to the other, face still mostly buried into the fur of the coat as he did. This had caused Death to chuckle in amusement, taking a seat in another chair of the same making next to Destruction.

Death would ask Destruction how he felt, which was responded to with a silent stubborn grumble. Seems Destruction didn't feel like speaking, Death thought, so he'd simply talk to the other. Explaining that they were in a place separate from time itself, a place free of death, of life, of creation and destruction. A blank canvas, as Death would refer to it as.

While Death spoke, Destruction would listen silently, curiously, like a child which was being told a fascinating story. This had also caused Death some amusement.

When Death had finished speaking, Destruction would feel a lingering question in the back of his head, one which he felt the need to voice. And so, with a silent tone indeed evident, he would ask Death why he was here once more.

However, instead of Death's previous answer from before, he would speak more clearly, more direct.

He'd tell Destruction that he and another were the artists of the blank canvas, and that they would be the ones to turn this desolate land into one of beauty and grace.

This had surprised Destruction, yes, but something else caused his curiosity to grow, and so, as he looked fully at Death, Destruction would ask one last question, who was the fellow artist that was going to aid him?

And Death's response? Was a single word, a name.

Creation. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------