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Darkness filled the building, broken only by the occasional flashing or strobing of lights moving in time with the music thrumming through the air. Mystical purples, toxic greens, ghostly whites, and piercing reds. Under those lights came glimpses of the crowd filling the floor — dancing, swaying, drinking and singing in time with the band on stage.
As advertised at the goth club's entrance, there was a theme of "All Hallows' Eve Masquerade," and each patron within had donned a mask of some sort. Some had their full face covered, some just the top portion of their countenance. Feathers and sequins, glitter and lace, from frightening and elegant to clownish and ethereal, all manner of masks danced in the mix of shadow and light so that it was impossible to tell one person from another.
Still, Casper knew exactly where to find her. Even in such a crowd, her aura shone brilliantly, hazy prismatic color that could eclipse all the rest.
He had no idea what he was doing by being here. He could've instigated her death any number of ways when she had been on the way to the club. There was always some manner of construction going on in her city, so having her “accidentally” killed would’ve been so easy: removing a warning sign from the street so that she'd fallen down a hole, shifting some stray electric cables in her path, the classic runaway truck...
But well, he hadn't gone through with any of it.
It's just that... Well, he thought it'd be a shame, was all. She'd gotten all dressed up for tonight to meet with her friends. Like most of the people gathered, she was donned in black — the skirt of her knee-length dress was made of tulle, and a corset with pink accents was wrapped around her soft waist. Lacy gloves enveloped her hands, and an equally lacy black mask concealed the upper portion of her face. She usually wore full-moon glasses, which meant she had to be wearing contacts tonight.
She was...beautiful. So beautiful.
He wasn't crazy to think it'd be a waste for her to die when she looked so beautiful, right?
The more sane part of his mind, singularly geared towards his duty, told him that he was, in fact, crazy. His uncertainty only grew as the volume of the music and heat of the mortals' bodies began to rapidly overstimulate him. He was invisible to their eyes, but he still felt and saw their auras brushing against him, making him internally recoil until he finally opted to float a few feet in the air above them all. Spaces like this were definitely not his scene.
—If he was going to fail to take her soul tonight (again), then he should just leave.
He should…
His gaze fell back down on her. He didn't quite understand dancing or when it was being done well, but he did find her movements mesmerizing. The song currently playing was darkly seductive and fast-paced, and his mortal swayed her body in a tantalizing manner, her eyes closed as she lost herself to the melodies. She tossed her head back, almost nearly in his very direction, causing a curious heat to flood under his collar and on cheeks.
He continued to observe her just like this. She and her two friends — romantic partners, he’d come to learn over the years — occasionally danced with each other, mirroring each other's movements in a three-pointed circle.
When the band began a new, more slow-paced song, his mortal broke away from her friends and headed to the bar. There, she was served a bottle of water, which she took gratefully and pressed to her black-painted lips. Her cheeks were rosy from her dancing, framed perfectly by the waves of her pink-dyed bangs.
His heart skipped a beat. Most irregular. Coupled with the strange flush from earlier, he made a mental note to examine his physical condition once he got back to the Underworld.
For now, though…
He withdrew to a corner of the club where no eyes could fall on him and, before he could overthink it, removed his invisibility. When he did, instead of his usual attire, he'd glamoured onto himself an outfit that would allow him to blend in more: tight black pants, and a comparatively loose crimson shirt French-tucked into them. And, of course, a mask, one with the appearance of a skull that concealed the top half of his face.
He glanced back towards the bar, and even through the crowd of auras, he once again spotted his mortal’s easily. After a bracing exhale, he made his way towards that bright little sun. He built a little invisible wall around himself that kept the rest of the dancing mob at bay, all of them moving to leave an uninterrupted path for him without them realizing it.
…What am I doing? What in the nine hells am I doing??
"I love masquerades," he remembered her telling her friend. "All the masks and costumes... I love the mystery and anonymity of it. I like going and no one knowing who I am."
No one knowing who I am...
Maybe that was what it was. Maybe the idea of presenting himself without her realizing she was face-to-face with her grim reaper was tempting to him. Because if he wasn't a grim reaper, then…
Then who was he?
He supposed...he would just be an ordinary mortal man to her.
That's a dangerous thought, Casper. He shouldn't be doing this. But if no one knew who he was and no one could see his face, was it really breaking any rules?
Before his mind could come up with a counterpoint, he was in front of her.
She sat at one of the few empty booths by the bar, facing the throng of masked dancers. She had a faraway look in her eyes as she observed the crowd. The hypnotic, slower-paced song continued, and couples in the room swayed against each other and grew closer. She lowered her gaze, suddenly having a slightly awkward air around her, when she noticed him.
Their eyes met for the first time, and warmth radiated through Casper's body like a wave of sunlight washing over him. For a second, he swore the world stopped, the music faded to black, and no one else was here but the two of them.
But then she glanced away, her awkward air growing. Ah shit, had he made her uncomfortable? He supposed he was just standing here like an idiot. Or a creep. But it wasn't like he planned out anything after getting this far. Still, he was reluctant to retreat now. An opportunity like this wouldn't come again.
So, collecting himself, he cleared his throat. "Do you mind if I join you?" He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music.
She shook her head, smiling politely. He realized she'd attached fangs to her canines. "Go ahead."
He took a seat across from her. He had no idea why he suddenly felt so...nervous. He looked back at her, watching the strobing lights shimmer along the black glitter she'd put on herself. The tiny obsidian stars went from her collar and to what her corset exposed of her rather generous cleavage.
Mentally and aggressively chastising himself, he forced his eyes to look higher. "That's a lovely dress you have on," he told her. "Why aren't you showing it off on the dance floor?"
"Oh." The rosiness of her cheeks seemed to regain another shade of color. "Thank you. I'm just..." She gestured to the crowd. "I'm here with my friends, but... I didn't wanna third wheel the whole time so I'm just stepping aside for a sec. Chilling," she quickly amended. "I'm just chilling... Ahem! Hey, I like your mask!"
Casper smiled. "Thank you."
"You look like a grim reaper. I dig it. All that's missing is your scythe."
He nearly panicked over how she caught onto his identity, but quickly remembered that there was no way she'd be able to figure it out. It was just his mask, that was all. He had no idea why mortals thought his kind were skeletons in robes, but well, he supposed it worked in his favor this time if she just thought he was playing pretend.
Suddenly feeling mischievous, he said, "That's because I am one."
"Shouldn't you be out there harvesting souls then?" his mortal returned, nodding to the crowd.
"I only have one left on my list tonight, but I wonder if I'll be able to claim it..."
She chuckled, giving him an appraising look. "I think anyone would willingly give up their soul to you."
"Oh? I appreciate the vote of confidence. And you'd be correct. Still, my success on this one remains to be seen. What's your name?"
"...Marisol."
Not an alias. He was happy that she gave him her real name. Of course, he'd already known it. But it still felt nice for it to be given freely.
After a moment of looking at him expectantly, she leaned closer and asked, "What's yours?"
He pressed a finger to his lips. "That's a secret. The masks give us anonymity, Marisol. And I'd like to keep it that way."
Marisol's eyes widened slightly. Then, her lips pressed together in a sort of look that was between amused and petulant. "Well, that works out fine. I gave you a fake name."
"Of course you did," Casper said. He was most likely failing to hide his knowing smile, or being unconvinced from his voice. "Say, Marisol?"
"Yes, Mr. Mysterious Reaper?"
The nickname amused him. He got up from the booth and reached a gloved hand out to her. "Would you like to dance?"
Surprise crossed her face. Then hesitation. She looked from his masked face to his outstretched hand. Then, finally, an almost shy smile graced her lips as she took his hand.
"A dance with death. I'm into it. And appropriate for the night."
He almost asked what she meant by that before he remembered the first half of the club's theme tonight — All Hallows' Eve. While he didn't know all the specifics, he did know the belief some mortals held about the line between life and death being thin around this time of year. He supposed that it was indeed appropriate then that he who lived in death and she who basked in life would come together like this.
They found a spot on the outskirts of the crowd where they'd have room to move, and it was only then that Casper realized something rather important and upsetting:
He didn't know how to dance. Sure, there were ceremonies in his world where he supposed the term "dancing" could be used, but the tone of them were decidedly more somber. Not to mention he never participated in them in the first place. Marisol had even been the first he ever asked to dance in his life.
Before he could panic that this moment was ruined before it could begin, he saw Marisol start to move. A new song had started with mystic vocalizations and heavy beats from the drummer. She fell into rhythm with them, swaying her hips like she had before. It seemed to come naturally to her, and Casper watched as she moved her arms over herself and around her, as if she were casting a spell.
And Casper had to admit, he was rather bewitched.
Her gaze lifted, meeting his, and he quickly urged his body to mirror her. Whereas she made each movement fluid and natural though, he could feel his own awkwardness. He was suddenly glad they were off to the side, lest others see his embarrassing display.
Marisol smiled large enough to flash her fangs, and he swore he heard her giggle under the haunting melody playing around them. Instead of making fun of him though, she continued to dance away, occasionally reaching her arms out like she'd hold him, then pulling them back. He couldn’t tell if she was actually teasing him, or if this was simply part of the dance. Perhaps both. Either way, it was...mesmerizing.
He found a strange middle-ground then, where he couldn't completely take in the music, but still heard it through Marisol's movements, and moved his body in accordance to her whims. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and less and less he registered the other people around them as anything more than background scenery.
It hurt a little to stare directly at her, with her bright aura so close that it touched him.
He... He had to take this soul. He had to reap it. He knew this.
And yet...
He couldn't say how many songs he remained in this bubble with her. All he knew was that he didn't want to ignore this pull he felt towards his mortal. It was dizzying to go along with it, in the best way. Every glance and smile that Marisol gave him only made this sweet intoxication grow. He longed to put his hands on her shoulders and waist as he saw other couples under the strobing lights do. He longed for her to be closer.
He wanted to know just how much he could get away with not being himself.
Marisol's eyes wandered away briefly, staring at a couple beside them. Casper saw that it was her friends, who also looked at him before seeming to excitedly communicate something to Marisol with just their expressions. Her friends giggled to themselves, nodding in some mysterious approval, then continued to dance. Whatever Marisol got from that wordless conversation made her bring her arms closer to herself almost shyly.
Casper looked from her to her friends, who were embracing. He recalled the look his mortal had had in her eyes when he'd found her. Something yearning. Something…a little lonely. It was an expression that, for some reason, he thought he could relate to, and the thought of that squeezed at his heart.
He offered his hand to her again. To his surprise and relief, she took it.
He urged himself not to overthink it. She came closer to him and took his other hand. He wasn't sure what to do with himself, so he let her manipulate him around as if he were a marionette. He felt a little embarrassed to let her take the lead when he wanted to impress her (and since when did that become something he'd wanted?), but he allowed himself to go with the flow just this once. Through the electrifying sound of the guitar, Marisol stepped forward and back, bringing him along with her. Several times, he stepped too close, making them chest to chest, and once he swore he’d stepped on her boot, but Marisol never stopped smiling.
And, bit by bit, he felt the corners of his own lips quirk up.
Even through their gloves, she felt so warm and soft.
The song came to a close, and the band on stage announced their departure to make way for the next arrival. As the crowd cheered them on, Casper and Marisol ended their dance. Their hands remained linked, and her brown eyes gazed up at him. The air between them felt charged, and Casper swore that somehow, she seemed to be glowing brighter.
"Wanna grab a drink? Doesn't have to be booze."
An invitation for him to stay beside her longer. And Casper... He wanted to say yes. He wanted to continue following her, to spend the hours with her like the night wouldn't end.
But as a reaper, he knew better than anyone that even if time stopped for him, it would march on for her.
He did not belong in her world.
Oblivious to his swirling turmoil, Marisol squeezed his hand and leaned forward. "Didja hear me, Mr. Reaper?"
He finally released her hands, and with the gesture, the atmosphere between them also dissipated. He couldn’t do this. He mustn't do this.
"I apologize. That will be all for me this evening. I... I'm afraid I have to go now."
Marisol blinked in surprise. "Oh.” Her expression fell, only for a second before she flashed her fangs at him again. “No worries! I understand. Um... Thanks for dancing with me." She took a step back, tucking a wavy lock of her bangs behind her ear. "Will I... Do you want..." She mumbled something else, but it was lost in the current of the club's noise.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!" She shook her head. "Happy Halloween!" She gave him a quick wave then dashed off. Without thinking, Casper took a step in her direction, lifting his hand to catch her wrist. But then he remembered himself, and he watched her form disappear among the kaleidoscope of masks and other mortals' auras.
He had no idea what he'd been thinking tonight. But leaving it like this…
It was for the best. There was only one reason a mortal's and a reaper's paths should cross, and it would be when they came to claim the human's soul. What happened tonight couldn't happen again. He knew that. And so, ignoring the strange twist in his chest, he too walked away and disappeared in the crowd. After one of the ruby lights fell on him then flew away, he became invisible once more.
There would be no proof he'd ever been here. There was only what existed in his memories. Because surely, come morning, Marisol would have forgotten about the mysterious masked stranger she met on the dancefloor.
—But even if she forgot, Casper would hold onto the magic of this night for as long as he lived.