Author's note: This is my very first attempt at fanfiction. That is, actually writing the stuff I think about down AND submitting it here.

English isn't my mother-tongue/first language/L1.

I don't bother with disclaimers. Everyone knows what belongs where and to whom.

This brief scene takes place after Death meets the Crowfather in the City of the Dead.

Also, I read the novel, The Abomination Vault and I love it. I keep rereading chapters and still laugh at certain lines. The writing is just incredible. I've tried to mimic it some, but I pale in comparison.

A Soul Visited, A Final Farewell and an Annoyed Horseman

After having discussed Absalom and the next part of his journey, Death turned to leave. He stopped before even taking a full step, looking back at the Crowfather, an uncertainty uncharacteristic of him, evident in his posture and even on his masked face.

"Is there something else?" asked the Crowfather, picking up on the horseman's hesitation.

Hell probably had frozen over as Death mustered the will to say: "I'm...sorry," was more of a quiet statement than a heartfelt apology, "That it ended the way it did." Referring to their last encounter.

"So am I, Horseman." said the Crowfather, acknowledging the obvious effort it took for someone such as the Reaper himself, to say that. "I suppose we are both far too stubborn for it to have ended otherwise."

Death felt an odd comfort, knowing the Crowfather was being generous with his acceptance of the unfortunate hand fate had dealt for him.

"Well, let's just leave it at that." With that, he took a few steps towards the towering gates, but was halted by an amused, probably self-satisfied and definitely exaggerated chuckle from the Crowfather. Death turned, again, and practically snarled pointedly at him.

"What!?"

"Oh, nothing! I just didn't expect I'll have anything else to gloat about in this place, besides my knowledge, that is."

"Meaning!?" Death probed, not any less irritated, knowing he will not find the answer amusing.

"I'd wager there are few, if any, in all of Creation who ever heard you apologize for anything, to anyone. It will surely do wonders for my reputation." explained the Crowfather, with another chuckle.

Death snapped in the direction of the gates once more with an irate groan and swiftly kicked them open, almost stomping through the hallway, but doing his damndest for it not seem like it, salvaging his dignity.

"Dust!" he barked from the end of the hallway to his guide. The bird was still idly perched on the shoulder of one very smug Crowfather. The two exchanged looks. One, a sly smile, if that was even possible for a crow. The other, a nod of farewell. Dust took off after the Pale Rider, who the Crowfather could swear was muttering barely audible curses under his mask in that particular ancient language he seemed well-versed in.