Who: Inanna (fight_for_me), Death (pale_as) What: Finishing it. Where: Central Park. When: Thursday, late night. Warnings: Violence, character death, emotional trauma.
It was a cloudy night, so that the stars were hidden, and there was no moon. A good night, Inanna had considered, to put an end to all of this nonsense, to get back to what really mattered: her survival, her ability to hold onto herself. What with Wrath's attacks on her territory and Death's betrayal, the pieces of her were tugging in opposite directions -- crush her crush him fight them take him back kill roar destroy. In the old days, she would have been strong enough to take care of all of this easily -- but then, in the old days, she would have been strong enough not to let it all happen in the first place.
But there were no time for regrets now. Inanna stood beneath a tree, waiting patiently for her Death to come to her. She was dressed simply, wearing her offerings for Ereshkigal's seven gates: long red dress, bangles on her wrists and ankles, rings on her fingers and at her ears, strings of lapis and carnelian beads around her neck, and the ancient star-crowned headdress of her old priestesses. And in her hand she held an envelope containing a letter and a token, a gold rosette from Sumer, for Death. He had called her his flower -- even now the thought made her smile, and she would give this ancient flower to him for remembrance.
Inanna wasn't afraid. She was tired, yes, and the many natures and goddesses inside of her fought to escape, but she stood still and calm, with her head held high, ready to face Death as a warrior ought.