Conquest: White Pupils

Shin Sa-do.

Even if his name weren’t unusual, I’d make a point to remember it. He’s such an interesting human -- perhaps it is the half-fallen angel in him. Or, perhaps, it is that he is a rare specimen of human that still wonders in the current world of immediate availability of information; he is a human who still questions.

Questions so often lead to revolutions, and revolutions always bring me onto the board.

“Besides the logical answer: that Death is essentially the only one of us to exist and function alone in terms of our most archaic of functions or existences? Ergo, she could be considered the most powerful of all the Horsemen?” I shrug, “We follow Death because she’s the oldest among us. The only one to reign as long as her was the very first War -- longer, actually, when you calculate it. But Death stripped him herself centuries ago.”

“She killed her own mentor?” Sa-do lifts both of his brows, clearly surprised. I can’t tell if it’s awe or disgust I see there as well.

“Technically Gabriel does that, but Death is usually the one who calls him down and gives him a report arguing for it to happen,” Famine says with a sigh. “It’s always sad when it happens, but all the time I’ve been here, I’ve never disagreed with a time when Death’s called The Messenger.”

“Death is not one to act rashly or without reason,” I nod in agreement. “I have never seen her move in any way that makes me think that she is not in control of herself. I suppose that is the benefit of a thousand-plus years of experience on the job.”

“And also why she’s probably the most serious. Bu, per usual, it’s the oldest who’s in charge because they’re the oldest,” the human says thoughtfully, and I think I hear a note of resentment there. He must be the youngest in his family.

“Not necessarily,” Famine cuts in before I can speak. “If Death were the next one of us to go, I’d be in charge by that thinking.” She laughs, “And there’s absolutely no way I’m going to be the one in charge of the Horsemen. Conquest can do it instead.”

I snort, “I’m not looking exactly forward to that day, should it ever arrive.”

“Why not?”

Sa-do doesn’t even look at myself or Famine as he asks his questions; he continues to stare into Silver’s personal stable. The human is either very brave or very stupid for daring to try and lock eyes with the mount of Death, in said mount’s own house. My already arched brow rises higher, but my eyes tighten.

Curious…

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A massive, pale head emerges from the stable. Famine and I both go still, watching Silver warily. All of us other Horsemen have gotten on his bad side once or twice over the centuries, and Death’s mount had a tendency to remember everything. I also have the sneaking suspicion he has a predilection for revenge.

“Hey there, Silver,” Famine waves her fingers, eyes scrunched up from the size of her grin; one hand is hidden behind her back, and I wonder if it's holding at least one of the gleaming black discs of her scales.

Behind that bright smile of hers is a sharp little thing that will cut you open like a stock pig in but a blink -- or, at least, that’s what used to be there.

Sa-do, however, remains relaxed. He pushes back from where he’d been leaning against the stall door, and brings his hands to his sides, palms out towards the great horse. The human has left himself entirely open for Silver to potentially attack him in the next century, if Death’s mount wanted to.

Again, I thank God that War is currently sulking off in his chambers -- if we’re lucky, he’s finally reading through some of the records from the previous Wars, but one can only hope for so much. If War were here…

My mouth falls open.

Silver snorts, the air from his nostrils curling like smoke in the cooler air. It barely dissipates before the great horse takes two strides towards Sa-do and gently lowers his head to push against the human’s shoulder. Famine’s jaw is practically on the floor. The human reaches out a hand and gives Silver a gentle stroke of his mane -- once, twice, thrice.

The motion pulls the sleeves of his dobok back, and the old scars on his forearms look even brighter against Silver’s pale hide. I can’t help but wonder if this Shin Sa-do was once a gangster of some sort. Byt this point, I doubt little could surprise me after witnessing what I am.

After a few moments, Silver backs up again and gives another snort before returning to his stable. I hear him lie down and settle into his bed. I don’t think any Horsemen in the history of our existence could have predicted something like this would happen. Silver has never behaved that way with someone other than Death.

And this is why I would not want to be the one to lead the Horsemen: changing of the paradigm is something to which I am accustomed, but I do not know how I could handle such a strange situation as this. If Michael had ordered me to kill Hyun, I don’t know what I would do in Death’s situation. How would I react if I were Death, but it was not yet time for Hyun to die?

I would likely find myself lost in a quagmire of potentialities and possibilities before coming to some kind of a solution due to the sea of variables. Variables that included the behaviours of both the demonic and the divine...which were not necessarily as easy to predict as humans’.

And by that point, Hyun would have very likely already perished at the tip of an angel’s blade, or perhaps even been whisked away by the shadows into the depths of Hell.

I would never have thought to choose an option closest to a détente. I wouldn’t have thought to choose an option in which neither side wins or loses, instead safely buying time while not yet breaking the commands of Heaven. It’s simply not a part of my nature.

“Death’s never going to believe this,” Famine laughs.