Chapter Text
1694, spring
Salem, Massachusetts
Hidden behind an otherworldly veil, Death watched the witch siphon her enemies' powers once again. The twenty-something woman with blue eyes and long chestnut hair never ceased to grin once her victims fell to the ground, their bodies completely sucked dry of any magick and life.
Death was a cosmic entity and didn't dabble in human concepts like time and math. But ever since stumbling upon the intriguing witch, it began counting the bodies. 307. Over three hundred bodies and counting: this woman was unstoppable and grew stronger as she stole their powers. Despite Death sensing new souls calling for guidance, the witch sparked something inside the cosmic entity. It would best be described as a faint sensation in its mind and chest, causing Death to want to keep an eye on the mortal.
“I see you,” the witch suddenly said. She rose to her feet and straightened her brown, smudged dress.
Death wasn't sure who she was talking to. The woman was facing away; Death double-checked for a split second whether it was hidden in the parallel realm. The cosmic entity was. It should be undetectable.
Then, the witch turned her face over her shoulder and looked Death straight in the eyes. Purple magick crackled around her fingers, but her arms remained by her side. “I see you. I've started sensing you some time ago. I studied you, you know. You show up right before I kill,” she explained fearlessly, a hint of venom in her voice.
Death would have smiled if it had human lips. Never had a live mortal sensed it, let alone spoken to it. After siphoning over three hundred witches' powers, the mass murderer probably had gotten powerful enough to be able to sense the presence of the cosmic entity.
Materializing out of thin air, Death gracefully stepped with both feet on the grass about ten feet away from the witch. A slender female figure came into view wearing a long, black robe. A crown adorned her hooded face, the lower half nothing but bare teeth, bone and two nose holes. The upper half did look human, with two beautiful brown eyes and dark shoulder-length hair only slightly visible underneath the hooded material. She was a lady, for sure, and a frightening one.
The fearless witch pointed a slack finger at the cosmic entity and spoke: “You must be Death. Is it my time, Death?”
“No, it is not your time,” Lady Death shook her head. Her voice was a low growl, mixed with a feminine voice.
The sound arose the hairs in the young woman's neck, though her facial expression didn't give that away. Her smile grew and she moved her pointer finger from Lady Death towards her victims on the ground. Three bodies in total. Three women who had been eager to form a coven with her. “You are here for them?”
No answer came from the entity. Instead, she stared at the witch, her gaze focused, her mind working hard to connect the dots of the sensation she felt inside her mind and chest. It was something new, that much Lady Death knew. On top of that, the entity asked herself how come the witch wasn't afraid like all the other mortals? Is this what over three hundred loads of witch magick does to one's self esteem?
The witch's smile grew from ear to ear. Playfully, she moved her pointer finger back to Lady Death: “Did I pique your interest? It's okay to admit such a thing. How else would you explain you stalking me for the past, uh,” she quickly counted on her fingers, “three—five-six months?”
At the word 'interest', Lady Death could only cock her head in silence.
The non-verbal reaction amused the witch visibly, no hesitation as she spoke: “Lost your tongue in that scary skull of yours?”
Lady Death squinted at her. “Usually, mortals respond differently when they see me. Also, they do not notice me in my realm.”
“Well, I'm something else,” the witch winked whilst confidentially pointing at herself with both hands. “If you keep stalking me, we might as well exchange names. Agatha Harkness, pleased to meet you.” She offered an open hand to shake. “Who do I have the pleasure of talking to? Do you simply go by Death?”
Looking down at the raised hand, Lady Death scrunched her nose (or, at least what should be her nose; Agatha only saw bone). The latter should have known Death wasn't like a human being, shaking hands upon meeting someone new. She had the formality seen happening, but never done herself. “I'm Lady Death,” the entity simply answered, ignoring the offered hand.
“Lady?” Agatha raised an eyebrow with surprise and dropped her hand. “A femme fatale. I like it.”
“Si,” Lady Death said with a small bow, deeply enjoying the fact her point of interest had just spoken two words French. The cosmic entity knew all languages as she'd been around since mankind invented them, giving her enough time to get to know all tongues and accents. However, in this age, she barely met mortals who were bilingual. People were too poor to travel. The only ones who did, were emperors, soldiers, and the like.
“Si? As in Spanish?” the witch curiously moved closer to Lady Death. Her steps were slow and careful. Despite her boldness, she was fully aware she was conversing with Death.
As the bottom half of Lady Death's face was only bone and teeth, she couldn't smile. However, a glisten did appear in her dark brown eyes, appreciating the other woman's wit and knowledge of foreign words. Death nodded, “Si, Agatha Harkness.”
With just five feet left in between them, the witch smiled and was about to respond until she promptly looked over her shoulder, her attention clearly drawn. She met with Lady Death's gaze once again: “I have to go. You probably understand. Tell me—What is 'I see you' in Spanish?”
“Te veo.”
“Well, te veo, Lady Death,” the young woman said with a small bow. She walked towards a tree to grab the broom that leaned against it, sat down on it and lifted off towards the sky.
After her departure, Death remained frozen with both feet in the grass, not understanding the sensation inside her chest and mind. The cosmic entity had been unable to feel anything since the dawn of time, but now that she had met someone as interesting as the young witch, she had started to exactly feel that: interest. She didn't know it yet, but the silent glisten in her eyes spoke a thousand words.