Dusk had fallen not too long past and the sky was already dark save for the stars and the moon, the moon that possessed a light tint of red this night. A blood moon for the night she walked above ground, how fitting. Lips painted a shade of dark purple-black twisted up into a smirk and she ran a hand through her hair, brushing it back from her face. How long had it been since she had last walked above? Far too long but then she had never taken a liking to being around so many humans. Her silvery gray eyes darkened upon the thought. Humans are no more than pests to be killed, played with or devoured. They can serve no other purpose than that.
Stirrings all around gave her reason to pause and she did, one hand resting on a hip. So the rumors are true, a look of sadistic pleasure lit up her face though only for a moment before it fell away in crumbles. The sacred graveyard is now home to the living dead. She walked forward, her fluid stride carrying her straight past and, at times, over the rising bodies. The occasional crunch as the heels of her black thigh-high boots stepped upon one of the undead brought back the sadistic gleam to her eye.
A chilling wind swirled around her then brushed past her, carrying with it the stench of rotting bodies that had long since been dead.

Death was sitting in the graveyard, leaning agianst one of the gravestones. He came here often, to punish intruders, and to be around others like himself, those that had no release from death. When the dead had started to rise, he paid little attention to them. They would not bother him, they were afraid of his power. He cocked his head a bit when he heard a new sound enter the graveyard. That noise is no undead he decided to himself, it was to purposeful and direct. Normally, an undead ends up shuffling wherever they want to go. This causes them to make a lot of noise, which means they aren't very good at stealth. His eyes began to glow with their pale blue fire at the thought of someone trespassing in his territory. He decided to go and greet this new arrival. He stood up in one fluid motion and turned around to face the direction the sound had come from. Standing there, was Keaira. He watched here with a grim look on his face, but then again, his face always looked like that. He spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper, it hissed across the open ground, to the ears of Keaira. "Who dares tresspass upon this ground?"

Keaira slowed her stride as one, though stronger than the others but still an undead, rose and turned to her, challenging her. She arched a brow and placed a hand upon her hip. Who was this undead who thought he could challenge her movement through this place. Maybe he thought it his, as his kin? Yes, as his kin moved freely here. Her lips curled into a mischievous smirk as she once more ran her hand through her hair. It was almost like dear home in the underworld, where one could no go around a corner without being confronted and then having an answer demanded of her.. How annoying. That had been one of the reasons she was taking a ‘vacation’ from there.
“You walk where the undead shuffle, you speak where the undead normally groan but you’re still an undead." Her voice had almost hissed along with the wind, her eyes aglow with an inner light. “That you’re an undead is quite obvious. However,” she paused a moment to brush back the few strands of hair that had fallen in her gaze. “You are more like those below than those above.”
She had not actually answered his query. She had ignored it, as though it were not so important compared to her musings.

Death's eyes got even brighter at the implication that he was like anyone. "I", Death hissed, "I am like no one, for I am Death. Your arrogance is your greatest weakness, it will prove to be your downfall. I will greatly enjoy the day when I come to take your soul. For that is what I am, a collector of souls." Death walked forward until there was only a few feet between him and Keaira. "Now, stop evading the question, I asked who you are, not for your opinion." Death barely paid attention to what the other undead where doing, his attention was fixed solely on Keaira. His hands longed to grip the scythe that was strapped across his back, but he restrained himself. Once he had the answers to his questions, she would pay for her arrogance.

She never moved from her spot through out all he did. She merely stood there with her head tilted to one side as she listened. When he was done her head straightened and she presented him with an almost mocking bow.
“Oh wow!” Her words seemingly dripped with sarcasm as honey would on a honeycomb. “I must be the luckiest demon in Arda, that I’ve met one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse... Ah, but where are your three companions? War, Famine and Pestilence?” She lifted both her shoulders in a shrug then, brushing away her previous question. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter.”

A fake cheery smile, filled with false joy, was pasted onto her face. “A pleasure Death, I’m sure. I,” she paused and with another bow, this one flamboyant, introduced herself. “I am Keaira.” She looked as though she was going to say more but something caught her attention. Her narrowed gaze snapped to her left and a frown pushed back the fake smile, scorn apparent in it. One booted foot connected with one of the undead that had come to close to her, knocking it back and she glared down at it before flicking her line of sight back to Death.

Then, from the shadows, came something you haven't seen before. A cloaked figure that has a walk that is full of pride and as good as a walk of a living man. Ssssso, you are Death. You see a black tounge from under the hood of his cloak. He pulls his hood off and you see a skeletal Lizardman with half his scales still intact. I sssee that you two are busssy. Perhapsss I ssshould take my leave? He then tilts his head and looks at Death as if he is awaiting his answer.

"I don't see any reason for you to leave, I was just having a friendly conversation with this lady. Who, beyond any reason whatsoever, decided to take a night stroll across cursed ground." Death still watched Keaira, in case she decided to try something while he was talking to this newcomer, he halfway hoped that she would, for that would give him an excuse to kill her.

Death turned his atention to the newcomer, getting a good look at him for the first time. There was something about him that was bugging Death, he couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he knew something was different about this person. He shook his head and ignored the feeling. "So, what brings a lizardman out into the night to wander through this land? Surely this is not your hunting ground, for you would find the food to be very scarce here."

She looked between Death and the undead lizardman, only half listening to the conversation. Her first night above and she was standing by and speaking, or listening as it were, to an undead and a rauko. Growing rather bored she began to glance around her, seeking some form of entertainment. She sighed then, returning her attention to the two but it was snagged and dragged away by the soft sounds of rustling. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the cobra moving towards them and she crouched down as he curled at her feet.
Though her back was turned to Death and the lizardman she was still paying attention to them, to a degree she was. She listened to them and their movements and she caressed the snake, ready to move should they make an attack at her.

He slowly turns his head back upright as Death talks. Upon hearing the last statement, he nods and lets out a surpressed laugh. I have no need for food. Food is only for the living. I have been dead for a little while now. He takes a coin out of his pocket and rolls it over each individual finger on his skeletal left hand with amazing speed. It's funny how much things change when you are dead. He flips the coin in the air and impales it with his right claw. You become a lot slower than your former self. He twist the coin repeatedly, in opposite directions until it eventually comes off the claw, and then puts the coin away. Anyways, I have come to this foul place to witness the wrath of some horseman I've been hearing about. I wish upon everyone the same fate as us, Death. He starts to slowly walk towards Death with his right hand reaching outward and his left hand opened and outside of the cloak. I am Vissage and I have come to give my allegence to those of the horseman. That, my friend, is why I have come. He stops in front of Death awaiting his approval.