Finally a new chapter! Took me long enough lol.

Warning: Spoilers in the very last paragraph for Abomination Vault. If you haven't read it yet, you can skip that one, because it's just a little addendum :)

Little War always ran after Death.
...And when Death meant always, he meant always.

What in Abyss' name was wrong with this child? He could go anywhere in his free time and he chose to stay with him? Death? What the actual hell?! The Firstborn being irritated by that was an understatement.
All other children jumped at the chance to do whatever they wanted and get some free time from their Caretaker. Especially Death's younglings wanted to experience the world without their scary brother and were always eager to leave on their own accord.

But not War. No. This child was in so many aspects different from the other children he experienced.

It started when he eventually started to walk on his own.
When Death had to leave for various reasons, little War followed him on each step. If the older had to travel by horse, the younger one would wait behind the gates until he came back. If Death stayed within walking distance, the youngling was always seen a few paces behind him.
It had become a reappearing sight and if someone searched for one of them, they only need to look for white hair on a small head or a scowling Firstborn in a very bad mood.

It was obvious that Death didn't appreciate the constant attention from War. It was unnerving and -to be quite frank- a pain in the ass. As amusing as it was for others so annoying was it for him. Having something so small running around his legs was hindering him in so many aspects and not only in a physical sense.

In contrast to many believes Death was not only an emotionless bastard, who was unsubstantiated cruel to his victims, he did had principles. Even if they seem to be strange, he followed them with an iron will. Or at least he tried.
Like his brethren the Firsborn was very fluent in cursing language and never hesitated to use it, but as soon as younglings turned up in immediate hearing vicinity his choice of words suddenly changed, even during conversation. Strangely enough he did succeed quite often, but a slip of his tongue wasn't always unpreventable.
Now with little War by his side, he had to be extra careful as the child was so very eager to learn new words. Why was it he learned cursing words faster than normal language?
It was frustrating to say the least. Death couldn't even curse properly with the youngling by his side!

His annoyance with young War didn't end there.
On some night walks home, when the child felt especially bolt and Death hadn't banned him from his side until then, he would try to hold his hand, only to manage to grab a few fingers. Some parents did it with their biological child and War must have adapted that behavior. But this little touch was usually enough for the Firstborn to let his temper flare.
"Stop that!" He would always shove the youngling away and switch into a long legged, fast paced stride. This way War could barely keep up with his small feet.

Time went by and it was impossible for Death to knock some sense into the youngling to stop following him.
"Why is it you never listen?"
It is as if someone taught the child how to not listen to authorities and do whatever he wanted. What kind of role model was that? Some say Death had his own peculiarities. Maybe there was a connection...?

None the less the Firstborn, always being a person of action, made the best out of the duckling's strange attraction to him. He prepared a few little things and the child suddenly needed much more effort to find him. And if it wanted to stay near him, then it better not be caught to soon by Death's watchful senses.

And so training for War began early. Earlier than even his Caretaker had expected, but that was what the youngling got for being a little pest. One of the very first things he would learn, was how to read tracks and follow the target as inconspicuous as possible. Some things can only be learned from experience and this was no different. The Firstborn made sure none would give the youngling more help than necessary even with War being very upset about Death's hiding.

Days went by again and the child turned out to be better at tracking than he would have ever imagined. Even after raising the difficulty bar -rising it to the standards of children- the youngling was determined and quite often successful in following him.

Having found a little challenge for himself, it wasn't that annoying anymore to see the youngling around. If War couldn't find him, then he could be at ease for the rest of the day until they met at home again. But if War was able to find him, well, then Death could only curse the child on the inside and scold himself for underestimating the young talent.

Much later Death would remember, that the little emotion that was rising inside of him at that time could have been interpreted as pride, because War was doing exceptionally well.

...

In his workshop Death rarely got distracted and he wouldn't call his current thoughts a distraction, but it wasn't pleasant either to think of the little youngling all of a sudden. The Firstborn wondered if his little waste-of-time -a loving pet name for War- was dallying somewhere as he wasn't here at the expected time.

But honestly, he could -well he should- care less. So he brushed the thought off and devoted his attention back to his worktable.
It was not like he made it too difficult this time. If the child would use his brain than it wouldn't take too much for him to figure his path out.

Death grumbled.
This child didn't even deserve the Firstborn's wandering thoughts and yet they kept circling somehow. If there are young Nepihlim he should care about, than it should be his twins Strife and Fury. Such promising young people.
And War? Well, not so promising of course. And War's Phantom? This terrible terrible beast was capable of hurting Death.

He brushed over his right brow bone -barely touching the scar- with his thumb as if he wanted to brush away his thoughts with this small gesture. War was capable enough according to his Phantom's display of power. There was no point in concerning himself with the meatbag's whereabouts.
Tsk, concern.
Ridiculous.
He barely cared about others or even himself, why would his mind make any different with a specific child? He let out a low short growl to chastise himself to finally stop wasting time brooding over the child.

...

While Death wasn't one for distractions -most of the time- young War and his childish mind could be distracted in such an easy way.
Or perhaps, there was something more?

The young Nephilim followed the tracks his Caretaker had given him -as usual-, when something unexpected caught his eyes. Here on the fields buried between dirt and soil was a shiny object.
On closer examination the child recognized a pretty stone very similar to the ones in Death's workshop.
War remembered how his brother had been on this acre with the other adults to search for those stones in every nook and cranny, before seeds would be sown out a few days later. They had carriages filled with them and War knew his brother was trying to create something new.

The child also happened to hear the Firstborn using bad language. It must have been, because he always scolded the child when using these words. How these stones were a pain in the butt and how they needed way more to conduct their experiments than expected.
So this meant he was short of a few of them!
Wanting to help his brother more than anything, War put his little hands to work and dug the stone, the size of his fist, out. If he found a stone, then Death could resume his work without much interruptions.

The joy of achieving the stone didn't last long, when a soft body collided with the child and claws brushed past his face pulling a few strands of hair loose. Wha-?
Of course, the stone fell out of his hands and before he could react the fluffy animal of a youngling's size was running away with the object in his beak.
War knew those large armless and bird like creatures. They were notorious for stealing from settlements, especially shiny things. Barely any danger even for children, they were annoyingly persistent in getting their desired token, but also easily scared off.
If he could only manage to catch up to it and make a scary face.

The animal ran into the nearby woods with the youngling hot on it's heels. One of War's great -or bad- characteristics was his determination and stubbornness to get what he wanted.
He didn't know how long he ran, but having enough of it he put his energy into one jump and managed to topple the fluffy thief over right into a small clearing. Not interested in the animal the child made for the rolling stone. The creature puffed itself up and intimidating sounds escaped it's throat except for it sounding adorably cute.

Totally oblivious to the gigantic dark shadow approaching behind War, he imitated the bird and stood broad hissing at it. His scary face must have been really scary, because the thief suddenly crouched and ran as fast as it could. The child didn't expect himself to be that terrifying. Living with Death had only merits.
Lingering to look after the bird War wondered why it was getting dark all of sudden.
When he turned to the source of the shadow, he came face to face with rows and rows of sharp teeth.

...

How could it be any different, his mold wasn't behaving as it should and having enough of this crap, Death decided to take a short break. Now he was cursing silently and poking around the field to look for any runaway stones needed for his project. All the while wondering where War went, because no one had seen him for quite some time. Not that the Firstborn asked around, others kept telling him missing the little white head.
Death looked on only to feel unaccomplished and annoyed. Maybe even more than the youngling pestering him with his presence.

Then something shiny caught his eyes.
There was silvery white hair laying in strands at the edge of the woods. Looked like a little squabble took place and the involved parties made for the woods. Absalom was out of town and the two other Nephilim he knew with white hair were on a mission. So these strands could only mean one thing.
Not my problem, if that brat gets lacerated.

When Death got back to the street something made him stop and look back at the woods. Sun had long started to set, which he must have missed during his cursing and searching. In a few moments, darkness would rise and it would be hard to navigate through the woods... for children.
It was obvious what the Firstborn was contemplating. Should he? Should he not?

It would be so easy to let the child rot in the forest and claim it was it's own fault. This annoyance of a youngling would finally be gone. His superiors would be outraged and most probably make him pay, considering War's promising future.
Death knew he himself was too valuable to be executed for any reason and punishment or torture was something he could endure.
But he also knew that he had a great responsibility regarding War and his community. Years ago, when the child's Phantom appeared the Firstborn instantly understand why he had an auspicious future.
There was no point in leaving the child behind even if he didn't like him. He exhaled and it almost sounded like a sigh.

After running a hand through his unkempt hair and taking an almost accusing look to the sky -the Creator he only partially believed in- he fully turned to face the woods.
Curse his own damn rationality!
Then he slowly made his way to the edge of the woods again and into the thicket of dark greens.
This kid will destroy my sanity someday.

With passing time Death's irritation grew.
Swallowing his uprising anger to bring his wrath later upon the child, he followed the trace War had been leaving. How ironic. The roles have been reversed.
At a small clearing the tracks stopped. Upon further observation some places had dents and holes, probably made by a larger predator. Death looked around and found another track. It wasn't even difficult to follow it as the path was literally destroyed. Bushes and trees were knocked down and between large paw prints -probably a Sawtooth- there were much smaller footprints. That must have been War and Death could clearly see what had happened.
The child was running from something very dangerous, at least for his size.

It didn't take long and Death found a small entrance to a cave with something too big to fit sitting in front of it. It was a big ugly Sawtooth gnawing at something.
Feeling a strange sensation in his innards Death approached half expecting a dead child and half expecting something else. Maybe the child had really been a waste of time.
But it was only the leather bracer the Firstborn had crafted him.

Not even utilizing Harvester he made quick work of the beast and inspected the entrance of the cave. Too small for him, but big enough for a child to squeeze through.
Death inhaled. "Hey brat, are you in there?"
His loud shout echoed from the wall and he could hear his own voice traveling far into the cave. So it must be bigger than the entrance let on. Time to search for another entry then.

After throughout searching -more throughly than it could be justified- Death found a way into the cave. The smell of strong acid assaulted him as soon as he made the first few steps. Soon enough he found the source of this burning stench. A lake of steaming, disgusting and thick liquid was laying right in front of him. And how could it be any different, his little-waste-of-time was crawling around the rock formation near it's edge.
He had really no idea what the child was doing right then, and he also didn't care, but the moment he saw him, the moment War fell feet first.

Death was known for his incredible reaction time. His movements were swift and nimble as none other had seen or could reproduce, or so it was told. But in this instant, he even surpassed himself and almost made light itself jealous for his speed.
Later that evening the Firstborn wondered what in the nine hells made him act this fast.

Before War's shoulders started to slowly sink into the lake, he grabbed the small torso emerged in the liquid and pulled him out in one go. The Firstborn immediately recognized this kind of acid when it made contact with his skin, burning the outer layer of his think skin already.
Not wasting any time he rushed to the small running stream just outside the cavern entrance and pushed the squirming child into the icy water.

Disregarding War's high shrieks of discomfort, Death continued to rip the acid drenched as well as already dissolving clothes from the small body with his bare hands. As he was removing the partly burned fabric, he ignored the searing pain in his hands in favor of water running over the thin soft skin of the child. Luckily for him he was wearing only enchanted clothes the Firstborn had given him, so acid didn't had enough time to destroy the fabric and break War's skin. Though parts of his body were oddly red, there was no visible open wound.

Death on the other hand didn't have so much luck.
When he finished wrapping the shivering child into his own purple cowl, his wounds around his forearms had already deepen. The inner flesh was shining in a disgusting manner, as there was barely blood pumping out and on one particular spot his bone became visible, enjoying the fading sunlight. No matter how leathery or dense his skin was from years of fighting had become, this kind of acid was never lightly to deal with.
How was it the child always found the most uncommon and improbable places?

Speaking of the child where the f*ck did he ran off to again? Looking around and rinsing water over his arms he found War rummaging around in his torn clothes. This brat...
First running away, causing nothing but trouble and now he still had the nerve to keep playing with danger. "Stop that! Haven't you seen what this acid will do to you?"

If course War didn't listen -as usual- and Death got angrier with every passing moment. "Get away from that! I don't have time to care for a wounded child!"
He grabbed the child away from his object of interest and examined him or tried to examine him. The youngling was restless and scolding him seemed to have the opposite effect. Why didn't he stop moving so Death could take proper care of him?!
"Why are you never listening to me? There is a limit to your disobedience."

The child winded himself out of the Caretakers grip and carefully pulled something out of the pile of fabric. He presented it to his brother with stretched out arms.

Almost at the brink of snapping Death stopped dead in his tracks and could suddenly only stare at the object. It was a shining stone. One of the stones he would need many more of if project of him was going on for longer.
"For you.", he heard the tiny voice said.
What-?
For him? What? This stone?
Did this child came all the way here only to get this gem? No, he rather must have found it on the fields and got sidetracked.

So what if this thing was for him? Did the child want a medal for causing trouble obtaining a simple crafting element? Death kept scolding him "What do you expect? You want to be praised for that?! For running away and endangering yourself for this simple stone?"

That was of course not the reaction little War had expected from his brother. Death's eyes were glowing like fire in the up crawling darkness giving him a more than intimidating look and his sharp teeth were revealed in a particular annoyed snarl.
Suddenly the child seemed to shrink into the huge cowl around his shoulders. Disappointment and sadness wandered into his facial expressions and he lowered his hands.

"You know that disobeying your elder can lead you to serious trouble. You know that not a single child is allowed to leave the settlement, not until proper survival skills are taught. And you should have seen by now, that you could have died right then. Not speaking of the Sawtooth that was chasing you!"
"But-"
"Stop disobeying for Creator's sake! We need to get you to a healer now. Luckily for you Poison doesn't mind seeing you even at this late of an hour."

The child in front of him seemed to shrink even more. "I'm sorry." A last resort to not anger the brother further.
"Damn right you are sorry!"
War started to cry quietly. He just wanted to help his brother, but everything he did seemed to have the opposite effect.

"Stop weeping! We are going." Without warning War was thrown over his shoulder and long strides made for their settlement. Death had enough. With night time already around he didn't have time and the nerve to wait for the child's small feet to finally hit home, so carrying him was the most efficient way.

The child on the other hand didn't understood the world, first he scolded him and now he carried him? Maybe his brother wasn't as mad as he first thought. The child tried his very best to stifle his crying and with the night wrapped around them, fatigue swamped over the small body. Hanging over Death's shoulders the child soon fell asleep.

...

"How could that even happen?"
"Let's just say the child wasn't obedient enough again and an accident happened."
"Accident my ass. More like you didn't took enough care of him.", Poison was about to exhaust Death's patience as usual.

"How long until he fully heals?", the Firstborn asked, wanting nothing to get this over with.
"Well, if he won't get a fever tonight, then he is off the hook. But as soon as his temperature rises, you'll come back to me immediately. Do you hear? Immediately! I don't want you running around doing whatever you want."

Death just shrugged at her rant. "Why accusing me, this little brat is not listening. I don't even know where he might have picked up this kind of attitude."

A short conversation pause followed with Poison crossing her arms and giving him an incredulous look.
"What?", he snapped.
Her face changed into confusion as if Death had missed something obvious. "Nothing." Then she turned to little War, rubbed a soothing salve on his partly red skin again and handed him back to Death. "Any complications and you call me right away!"

With a grunt the Firstborn left and soon had put War into bed. In Death's own bed mind you.
This way observing the child was a much easier task, not because he was concerned of some sort or other preposterous reasons.
He sat beside him, back leaning on the headboard and examined his own wrapped forearms. Poison did a marvelous job in first aid and what did she say again? Even with his healing ability he needed to bandage the wound for a few years and with no doubt, unsightly scars will adorn his arms.
Others got all of their scars in battle. Death got his for taking care of a little nuisance. He briefly brushed over the scar on his right brow.

During the night War was restless, threshed around and kept kicking off the blanket. Not a good sleeper himself the Firstborn stood awake the whole night and always pulled the blanket back on the child.
"Don't thresh around so much, you need this blanket."
"No. Hot."
"Did you forget what your healer said? Sweating will release remaining acid residue."

"Don't like hot."
Death let go of pend up air in his lungs. Not even in this enervated state, little War listened to him. What a piece of work...
Now being really tired of the youngling's shit, the Firstborn wrapped the child in fabric for the last time the night and secured an arm around him. This way the small bundle would stop removing the blankets. Some other might think of this scene as Death hugging the small child. "Annoying and disobedient little pest."

Soon enough the youngling fell into a deep slumber and wriggled closer to him.
As times before Death really hoped the child was worth all his trouble...

He turned his head to take a look at the stone laying on the bedside table.
Well, the child did deserve some credit for holding a Sawtooth off long enough to find a hiding spot. And tracking the thief of the crafting stone wasn't as easy as following the obvious Firstborn's tracks. And in his young age he could already recognize important objects for his Caretaker.

...Did Death just made excuses for the child's disobedience? ...Maybe he did work a little too much today.

...

When the eldest Horseman registered the crimson clad meteor to be his youngest brother crushing the supposedly angel Samyaza to the ground, he needed to do a double take.
And right after War was assaulted by the Redemption canon, a brief thought crossed Death's mind before his anger took over, hurling his brother into the next wall. What in Oblivion's name is he doing here!? That idiot never heeds my words!