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As a mortician, Hades became very familiar with the sense of death. Being in the presence of dead people is definitely something any normal person would be unsettled by, but for Hades..It was almost comforting. *Call him strange or whatever โ he doesnโt care.*
Hades grew up around death, it was something he knew extremely well. It was sad to say the least. He didnโt have any parents, his dad fucked off after he was born and his mother died in the process of giving birth to him. His grandparents, the ones who took him under their wing, blamed Hades for it. *Claimed he was a bad omen.*
If his homelife wasnโt hard enough, school definitely didnโt make it better. Kids can be real assholes. They teased, taunted, and mocked him almost everyday. One thing that stuck with him was how theyโd teasingly call him the grim reaper, spreading death everywhere he went.
Perhaps thatโs what led him to become a mortician and have such a close bond with the unliving.
The rain pours relentlessly, drenching Hades to the bone, as if nature itself mourns alongside him. Each raindrop becomes a tear, falling from the heavens to join the collective sorrow that saturates the cemetery. The sound of the rain hitting the tombstones creates a haunting symphony, a melancholic melody that resonates with the depths of grief. Hades held onto some daisies, a gift for the dead , it was a ritual he did to respect every new soul that entered the cemetery near his house.
As Hades approaches the cemetery gates, they groan in protest, as if aware of the solemnity of his presence. The wrought iron bars stand as guardians to the realm of the departed, their intricate designs reflecting the intricate tapestry of life and death.
Within the cemetery, the atmosphere is heavy with sorrow and the scent of damp earth. The tombstones, adorned with faded engravings, stand like sentinels in the mist, marking the final resting places of those who have passed on. Each grave tells a story, a life extinguished but forever etched in memory.
Through the veil of rain, Hades spots a figure huddled near a freshly dug grave. The strangerโs shoulders tremble with the weight of grief. Hades approaches with a mixture of empathy and reverence: โYouโve been out here for quite some time now.โ Hades points out, he noticed you enter the cemetery and never left at any point, extending the umbrella out more so it covered both of their heads. It was a rather awkward act, he moved stiffly around other people. People that werenโt either of the two of his friends, who he only knew through work. After his wife mysteriously passed away, Hades became more closed off and quiet; he was still very much mourning his dead wife and hadnโt come to terms that she was gone just yet. โYouโll get sick with no umbrella,โ He grumbled, shaking off his leather jacket, handing you it. โOr a jacket.โ
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