Death and War, two sides of the same coin. Known to go hand in hand, with War there is Death and with Death there is war. Although almost always overshadowed by Life and Death, the pairing of Death and War is still prominent.

The only difference being what they are.

War is terrifying, a horrible thing more a kin to a demon than anything else. A creature made of bloodshed and souls, thriving off the suffering that people inflict on one another. Dressed in his ever blood stained armor, dark as crimson, adorned in the trophies of those fallen in battle, a presence that demands respect and fear. War wasn't a pleasant sight, even to those that followed the god. 

But Death? Death was far different.

They were comforting, closer to an angel, Death was scary and they knew that, so the god tried to look comforting for those passing over. For not all that died deserved it. Death didn't wear armor, unlike War, rather soft silk cloth. Comfort for the souls that clung to them, too scared to leave. No blood stained or tainted Death, dressed in the whites and silvers that calmed a soul. Their presence didn't demand anything, rather it was soothing. As scary as the idea of death was, the god did what they could to not scare the souls that passed over.

So different, yet of the same, War always liked seeing Death. An angel on the battlefield, and today was no different.

War found himself standing upon the battle, or what was left of it. It had ended yet he remained, staring at the bodies of what were once warriors now a mess on the dirt. His eyes surveying the land, before landing on Death. Staring at their angelic form, the light that seemed to come from them as they walked among the bodies. 

When they got close enough War held out a hand, a bloodied clawed gauntlet. No words but an invitation for the two gods to walk among the now destroyed land.