[ WP ] Death has a child with a Guardian angel . Tell his or her story .

Death sighed, pulling his robes over his hands. He did n't like being so exposed in a place like this. The thin skin stretched over his fingers made a scraping sound as he clenched one hand into a fist. He could hear the laughter and strum of harps nearby. Bees buzzed around gardenias and chrysanthemums that rose up high around him, and each stretched out to reach for the sun's light. Death reached out and plucked a nearby carnation, holding it to his thin cold lips and twirling it around. He had dreaded coming here all day, dreading that he would be the cause of the quietness and reverence. The garden was always so much more enjoyable with the laughter, with the smiles, with the... *The life, * he thought bitterly. It made no difference, it was what would have to be done. What if there was another way? But he knew there was n't. 
 
 Death sighed again and laid his scythe down on the cobblestone, feeling over its thin and warped staff as he continued on his way down the pathway. Over the hedge he could see the girls, all of them giggling and playing in the flowers, looking up to Giselle for guidance. It was certain her beauty would never fade, long trailing golden hair falling over her shoulders and back in locks, and soft wings laid aside, the corners fluttering every time she laughed. Death smiled to see it. At least she was laughing, even if they both knew it would be short lived. 
 
 `` Peter keeps putting himself in trouble,'' Elise complained, putting her harp aside and rolling onto her stomach. The small angel's wings spread out onto the grass. 
 
 `` Peter does that too?'' Rosie exclaimed, looking over to Elise. `` Lidia wo n't stop! She wandered off by herself the other day, and I was flying all over the place trying to pull away thorn bushes, shoo away the animals, I even had to push a badger back into his den. Look what he did!'' Rosie sat up straight and held out the tip of her wing for the others to see. Feathers were missing, scratched away, or crumpled and ripped. Elise gasped. 
 
 `` Now, now,'' Giselle laughed, and lowered Rosie's hand, `` no need to fuss. Yours are both very young, they will grow wise in time. But for now, you two must guide them and keep them from harm's way.'' Both of the little ones smiled bashfully, and went back to their playing. Giselle followed their smile, and pulled Josephine into her lap. 
 
 *The girl will have her mother's beauty one day, * Death thought with a smile, *Maybe even more, * She had her mother's hair, with more of a reddish tint. Giselle would laugh and say it was because she would play in so many roses. Death laughed at the thought, but remembered what was to happen, and his smile faded. 
 
 `` You're so lucky you do n't have to fly around and be a guardian to anyone else,'' Rosie continued, `` You just have to watch after Josephine.'' 
 
 `` Yes, I am very lucky.'' Giselle smiled and pulled her daughter onto her lap. Death could see that her smile was forced. The flowers bent aside as he walked through to the small clearing of grass that was secluded in the garden. Elise and Rosie froze, and looked to Giselle for guidance. She gave a smile and turning to them, spoke, `` You two go on, I'll join you later.'' Both girls reluctantly obeyed, giving Josephine and Giselle their last goodbyes. `` Bye, Giselle.'' 
 
 `` Yes, goodbye Giselle. Will you teach us the next song tomorrow? 
 
 `` Yes, I can teach you two tomorrow.'' 
 
 `` Okay,'' and they went. Death was acutely aware of their eyes on him. 
 
 `` So it appears they're getting on well enough,'' he began. Death sat down next to Giselle, and offered her the carnation he had plucked. She did n't answer him, but smiled sadly and took the carnation. In her lap Josephine squirmed up to a sitting position and reached out for the flower, taking it from her mother and clutching onto the stem tightly. 
 
 `` Why does it always have to be this way?'' Giselle whispered. 
 
 This was what he had been fearing all day long. He felt his heart sink. `` You know why. We both made that choice.'' She acknowledged his words with silence. `` It wo n't be all bad. The other two are already on their way to getting their wings. You can see them again then,'' Death comforted. 
 
 It was a vain attempt, and Giselle's wings folded up along her back with agitation. `` And how long has it been since I've seen either of them? You said the same thing each time.'' 
 
 *Too long. It's been too long. * Death sighed and wrapped an arm around Giselle, her hair soft under his arm as he looked down at the girl. She had his dark eyes, and full dark eyelashes to pair with them. Josephine reached up to take his hand and he forced himself to pull away before she could touch him. That had been the worst curse of it, not being able to touch them at all. For no tiny fists to clench his thumb, no slobbery kisses, not even being able to hold them. `` Death is not the worst thing that people endure,'' he said, pointing the comment to Giselle, when really saying it to himself. 
 
 Giselle saw Death's cautious movements and pulled the babe away, and laid her down on the grass. It did little to stop the girl from rolling around again and climbing onto her hands and knees. A butterfly landed on the daisy in front of her, making her eyes go wide. `` Life is given to us for a reason,'' she insisted, `` it's unfair to take it away so quickly. She's so small...'' Her voice broke. Death felt a knot tighten in his throat. 
 
 `` It's how it is,'' he said plainly. 
 
 Josephine was giggling now; the butterfly had landed on her nose. The sun shone through the monarch's wings and cast the girl's face the same color as her hair. Giselle watched and wiped the tears that had spilled out of the corners of her eyes. `` I ca n't do it again,'' she whispered, `` not anymore. I ca n't bear it.'' Death had known it would eventually come to this, so all he did was hang his head and nod slowly. 
 
 They sat there in the sun for as long as they could afford, watching the babe sit and entertain herself with the flowers and small creatures around the garden. Even a thrush came to say hello at some point, and opened its beak to serenade the three of them. When it was done with its song, Death stood. `` Come, let's do it now.'' 
 
 Giselle followed suit and stood as well, tears cascading down her face, and she lifted her daughter up to her feet. Death walked away a few paces, then crouched down. He watched Josephine giggle as her mother held her hands tight and helped her to stand. `` Go on, Josie. Go to Papa.'' Josephine smiled and took a step forward. Death outstretched his arms. A few more steps with her mother's guidance, and the girl laughed, her pace quickening. Giselle let go with a small cry, a smile only on the corner of her lips. Death's mind screamed at him to pull away, but he could n't. He *wanted* to hold her, if only once. Josephine walked straight into his arms with a smile. And Death held her, pulling his suddenly limp daughter close to his chest. The summer sun had warmed her skin. She was warmer than his first two children; it had been winter for the both of them when they took their first steps. He knew she would n't stay this warm for much longer, so he savored the few moments in silence. 
 
 He grew thankful for the large hood over his head, because it concealed the tears that rolled down his cheeks and blurred his vision. He saw Giselle move, but was n't sure of what she was doing. She had probably turned away. After the silence had grown to be too much, and the tears subsided for both of them, Death shifted Josephine into one arm, and kissed Giselle's cheek. She did n't mind his cold and dead lips. `` It wo n't be long,'' he whispered. 
 
 `` In an eternity, anyway,'' she replied. 
 
 Death realized there was n't any point in pushing further. He found Giselle's hand and squeezed it softly. `` I'll make sure she's taken care of.'' He turned away, and pushed his way through the flowers again, holding his daughter close and kissing the top of her head. 
 
 ( I'm sorry for bad quality, I'm pushing my way through writer's block. And I am more than happy for critique. )
