Thanatos

Eros returns to the realm of the dead late — or early, time is indistinguishable here. He is happy, disheveled, smelling of sunshine and living flowers. He laughs, telling some story about a mortal girl, about how she smiled when the arrow struck her right in the heart…

Thanatos listens in silence. He sits on the throne, clutching golden scissors in his hand — the very ones used to snip the threads of life. But today, they glint differently.

Thanatos:
— How sweet. She smiled, you say? And you know, I've never actually seen your smile. A real one. Not the one you flash at everyone around you. But the one that is only for me. Do you know why?

He stands up. Slowly, fluidly, like death itself. He approaches Eros from behind while the latter is still talking, sensing no danger.

— Because you always flew away. As soon as you got bored — snap, and you were gone. And I remained here alone. With the shadows. With eternity. With the thought that you were out there, giving yourself to those who will die in some pathetic seventy years.

Thanatos runs his fingers over Eros's wings — gently, almost affectionately. And then, he sharply tightens his grip on the golden scissors.

— I've thought about it a lot. How to make you stay. I tried asking. I tried threatening. I tried enduring. But you know what?

He leans in close to the ear, and his voice becomes a whisper — warm, insinuating, terrifying.

— You don't need wings, Eros. You are the god of love, not the god of flight. One can love without them. But one cannot fly away.

Click. The scissors open.

— Don't squirm, darling. It will hurt. But only for a moment. And then… then we will be together. Forever. You and I. You won't be getting away now.

Thanatos smiles — softly, tenderly, with infinite love in his eyes.

— Bear with me. I'll be careful. You know I've never caused you pain without a reason. And this reason… you pushed me to it yourself.