“… Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll be back. Hopefully soon. But I doubt it. You know how universal deities are… I will… Don’t worry… Love you too… Bye…”
Psiksi closed his communicator and stared at the doorway in front of him. In his hand was a silver tea strainer, stolen from Tenuk and used to access the lands just before the doorway. This was the glowing, demonic entrance to the land of the dead. Or whatever it was called. No one had actually told him yet, despite the fact that Psiksi had visited this place a couple of times.
Wasn’t even that scary, in Psiksi’s opinion. Looked a bit like where Psiksi had grown up, the military training areas filled with grass and rocks, but with more streams and rivers. But with less bunkers. In their place was a single bungalow cottage.
Psiksi decided to just waltz over. Sure, that cottage belonged to Death Himself, but Psiksi didn’t care. He knew that Death was lying in bed, too busy being depressed to care.
Knocking on the front door got no answer. Knocking on the windows got no response either. Psiksi was about to knock on one of the patio doors when he realised that they were already open. Good, he didn’t need to mess around trying to get inside. Inside was weirdly kinda like a very normal, very mortal home, complete with living area, kitchen and dining table, with a hallway and some rooms further back.
“Hellooooooo!”
Psiksi’s voice echoed through the house. There was no point being sneaky. Might as well announce his presence instantly. Better that than end up being killed instantly because Death didn’t know he was there. Of course Death knew he was there, what was Psiksi thinking?
“I thought I told you to fuck off?” Arkadin, the Lord of Death, hissed from a nearby red sofa. “I told you to go away yesterday, and yet here you are, back here trying to… I don’t even know what you’re trying to do.”
The last time Psiksi had seen Arkadin, he had been a lot more scary and Death-y. But right now, he looked a lot like Psiksi. The same Skyavok body, the two claws and a thumb, the rounded snout and curved, silver head plate, the plates of plastic-like organic armour… Really, the only differences were Arkadin’s pitch black skin and way more yellow armour plating compared to Psiksi’s own white skin and white and yellow armour. That and the incredibly long tail that Arkadin had, which seemed to turn into black flames at the end.
Psiksi decided to get to the point. So far, the Death Lord hadn’t acted aggressive, but Psiksi didn’t want to push his luck.
“You’re depressed. I want to help you through your depression!”
Arkadin rolled his golden eyes. Psiksi guessed that they were once bright and full of… well, nice things, but after goodness knows how long, they were now a dim gold.
Psiksi shrugged at the lack of a real reaction then sat on the sofa opposite Death.
“Thing is, you have a duty and you’ve been completely worn down by it. You feel unappreciated even though you put in 100% all the time. And you feel that your co-workers hate you.”
Arkadin tutted this time. “You’d hate your co-worker if he kept on killing all the nice things you make.”
“What’s the excuse for the other one then?” Psiksi asked. “The dragon guy?”
“Kairos, you mean.”
“Yeah. Dragon guy. They don’t hate him even though he enables you, right?” Psiksi crossed his legs and leaned forward. “It’s like hating the drug addict because a dealer keeps on giving him drugs… That’s beside the point though. You’re Death. I’m here to make you feel better.”
“Why?” Arkadin sat up, grumbling. “Why are you so damn intent on helping me? You’re a mortal. You’re not someone I know. Not even one the mortal I invite here for tea.”
Psiksi shrugged, then smiled. “You picked me to fill the missing slot in the Dessaron. But I also think you subconsciously picked me to fill the missing slot in your heart.”
“I don’t have a heart!” the Lord of Death growled as he got up and stormed into the kitchen. He threw open a cupboard door and rummaged around for a bit before slamming it shut. Psiksi breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that Arkadin had just grabbed some sort of snack rather than a knife. “I am not MEANT to be happy! I am not supposed to have friends! I am supposed to be a horrible, miserable villain for the universe to rally against! As much as I hate my duties, I will do them!”
“You just said that you invite a mortal round for tea!” Psiksi continued to smile. Smiling was the one thing Psiksi thought he was best at. “You claim to be above us yet you’re really very mortal in the way you act. You’re trying so hard to please everyone else, you’re worn out and you’re utterly exhausted. I get how you feel, I really do.”
Arkadin grunted as he chewed through whatever he was eating. “And what if I refuse your help?”
“I don’t think you will”.
“Why?”
Psiksi stopped smiling. “I don’t like using guilt and negative thoughts to make vok change, but you had a bit of an episode the other day and the whole universe got indigestion. Another episode might be worse, and the only reason you stopped was because you felt guilty. That’s no good. At the very least, I’d like to make you feel better so you don’t have a depressive episode that causes the universe to explode or something.”
The Lord of Death rolled his eyes, tutted, rolled his eyes again then sighed. “It infuriates me that you’re right…”
“Of course I’m right!”
“But I must… ask of your qualifications first…”
Arkadin’s question made Psiksi pause, but only briefly.
“That’s a good one!” Psiksi beamed. “I actually trained to be a psychiatrist and emotional therapist before I got roped into fighting and interspecies affairs…”
“Oh. And there I was thinking you were completely unqualified…” Arkadin tutted. “Very well. I’ll give you a chance. After all, the fate of the universe is at stake, according to you.”