Clicking, clacking. The soft sound of water drips down upon the stone floor in the beggars gallow.

He sits there, across from a woman with long curled horns, red skin. Her entire body echoes with residual flames.

“So. someone’s been busy, huh?”

“That’s your opening, Trevor? Still bad with words?” she replied with a smirk, that soon dissolved upon hearing him sigh.

Trevor leaned back into his chair. Comfortable, but a bit stiff.

“I don’t want to fight, Naveah. We haven’t seen each other in eons. I am a different man. I’m no longer that boy.” He finally said, letting himself lose his own control. The air around him chilled slowly, a stark contrast to the heat of the other side of the room.

“So now you don’t want to fight? Good. maybe you’ve actually changed.”

“Being a servant of death would do that, but you already knew that. We decided on our choices back then, yknow? I’m happy where I am.”

“ Do you still miss… us?” she said, in a sudden moment of sincerity.

There is a solemn silence, the room suddenly feeling too quiet for both of them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he replied.

“Yeah. although, it’s probably less likely it would work, right? You are now the only servant of life, right? The goddess probably won’t enjoy me being ‘Interfering’ with your work” he said, letting himself chuckle a bit

“Probably not… but she doesn’t have to know, does she? Yours won’t know if I don’t say anything. Mine won’t know either?”

“Those are dangerous words, Naveah… well.. Let’s do this one more time. Hi. I’m Trevor Hishoka.”

“And I’m Naveah Hardwood. It’s nice to meet you, Trevor. Let’s get a drink.”

And years down the line, life and death are closer than ever. The new servants seem to always be at each other's throat, but unbeknownst to all, they still love each other.

They just weren’t ready back then.