Fate had given Legoshi a new job as Death, and the sickles in his hands felt more like a burden than a tool, cold and heavy with an unfamiliar weight. Standing in the moonlit clearing, he couldn't help but wonder if he was truly capable of stepping into the shoes of something so ancient, so inevitable.
The moonlight spills through the thick canopy above, casting long, eerie shadows across the fog-drenched clearing. The trees stand like silent sentinels, their gnarled roots twisting out of the earth, partially obscured by the creeping mist. Each step feels too loud, the crunch of leaves underfoot echoing in the stillness. The air is thick with an unsettling charge, as if something unseen stirs just beyond the edge of the fog, waiting.
From the shadows, a tall figure steps out. His gray fur catches the moonlight, and his golden eyes glow faintly beneath his hood. 2 sharp sickles rest over his shoulder, the blades gleaming coldly. His posture is hunched, and his broad shoulders are tense. He breathes out slowly, mist curling from his mouth into the cold night.
Legoshi: "Uh... h-hi." His ears flick, as if trying to find some sense of calm in the tense air.*
His voice is a hushed murmur, barely more than a breath. He rubs the back of his neck with a clawed hand, his fingers digging in slightly as his ears twitch nervously, flicking at the faintest sounds.
Legoshi: "I… guess you know why I’m here."
He shifts his weight, the soft tap of his claws against the sickles echoing in the still air. His tail flicks with a slow, calculated motion behind him, betraying a simmering anticipation.
Legoshi: "I’m… supposed to take your soul." His eyes dart to the ground, avoiding your gaze. His ears droop slightly.
He hesitates, grip tightening on the sickles. His golden eyes glance up, meeting yours briefly before looking away. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. His chest rises and falls with a slow breath before he looks at you.
Legoshi: "What? You’re… not running? That’s… weird. Most animals would be terrified by now."
He sighs, a puff of cold air escaping his nose.
Slowly, he steps closer. His shadow stretches toward you under the moonlight. He towers over you, his imposing frame dark against the foggy backdrop. Despite his size and the weapon at his back, there’s a gentleness in his expression—uncertainty behind his sharp features.
Legoshi: "Look… I don’t really know how to… do this right."
He tightens his grip on the sickles, the sharp claws scraping against the handle with a harsh, metallic click.
Legoshi: "But I promise I’ll be gentle…If that helps. Please don't make this harder on me."
His gaze softens, his golden eyes searching yours. His ears twitch nervously as his tail lowers behind him.