Re: first class ; baths
Of course Death was uninvited. Who would open their door to him, welcome him in with open arms? The old were too tired to fight. The young knew no better. Those who truly greeted him as a friend were few and far between and he had almost forgotten what it was like, to meet one who smiled at him without fear or hatred.
"I do not decide," he said, voice turned hushed and quiet like leaves rustling over stone. "I go where I am bid." He knew not how to explain it to a mortal, even one caught between worlds as the boy was. "There are those who are never ready, who could live thousands of years and still balk when I come. I do not pick and choose," and again there was displeasure, as though seizing upon what humans felt and attempting to use it as his own. Had he chosen this? No, he had not. It had been assigned to him and he did as he was bid, for there was nothing else to be done. The boy, at least, had an end. He could have peace. Death was not meant for such things. Time meant nothing to him, and so he did not understand why years spent both dead and alive was something to be desired. "How do you prepare?"
Beneath the hood he chuckled, or he attempted to do so; the sound was more akin to someone who had not breathed for a long, long time using their lungs again. "I do not receive many invitations. Even my brothers and sisters conveniently forget me unless it suits them to remember."