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peakdeer · 1 year

Note

Ello! :D your post intrigued me and I’ve had this hc rattling around in my brain since Witchcraft smp started and I’ve wanted to share but I’ve never had the opportunity.

Ok here it goes. When Scott did the magic thing to try to bring the person he want to back back from the dead it summoned Lady Death (which is Mumza cause she is literally death and I hold her in a vice grip). This ruffles her feathers quite a lot and she starts going oof at him, saying how foolish he is for trying to bring someone back from the dead and such. He then explains to her is his reason to why he did it and beg her to bring his love back. Though it is still a foolish endeavor, her heart is softened by his pleas due to her understanding his pain but can’t just bring people back to life; however she does give him the ability to perform the magic needed to back his love back from the dead. In exchange however, Scott has to give a piece of his soul to her and when he dies his soul is forfeit. He accepts and after a very painful handshake she give him the power of necromancy. This left him with stark white hair also she straight up took a piece of his soul and dipped. He later dyed it black cause it gave him a bad feeling but when he does really powerful magic it will turn a lock of his hair white. I have a n e e d to give every single one of my Scott designs a lock of white. Idk why I just think it looks cool :3

Sorry for the block of text, I am quite excited

Scott wasn’t sure how he’d messed up the spell. It was supposed to bring him back—not whoever this woman with the black hair and the fancy hat and the long dress was. He kind of wished he could send her back now—she’d started ranting at him the instant she appeared, and she hadn’t stopped since.

It wasn’t like it was anything new. It was the same thing he’d heard from the townsfolk in his old village, and the same thing he’d heard from everyone else who knew what he was trying to do. “You can’t bring some one back from the dead, Scott! That’s wrong! You’re upsetting the balance, Scott! You’re so selfish, Scott, dragging them back! That’s weird. You’re creepy. Everyone else who did that suffered worse. What, do you think you’re better than them, Scott?”

And you know what? Scott didn’t care. He didn’t care anymore! None of it mattered!

He just wanted him back.

At least he’d done something right to summon this… woman? She had wings, actually, now that he noticed. Perhaps she was an avian?

Oh well. He flipped through his book, trying to find out how to send her away. Her stature left him feeling dwarfed, and he hated feeling small. He also hated being scolded like he was a child.

If only his stupid book would tell him how to get rid of her!

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” The woman’s voice was clipped, clearly annoyed. Scott glanced up at her once before turning back to his book. He needed to send her away now—

“I said—“ a cold presence strayed his throat, stealing his breath. His eyes darted to the woman—she was clearly more than an avian, more powerful than him even. He—he wasn’t sure if he could send her away. “Are you listening?”

“I am now.” Scott snapped, though it sounded more whiny than he’d meant it to, as if he were a little child being scolded by his mother again.

“What are you doing? You’ve got a circle and everything, do you know how dangerous those are? You could bring back something a whole lot worse than me—” She ranted, waving her arms as if to illustrate her point.

“I’m trying to bring someone back, obviously.” Scott answered her, annoyed. Clearly she already knew what he was doing, so why waste her words? He didn’t regret it. Not at all. Not when it could bring him back.

“You shouldn’t. Life and death is something to be taken very seriously, not with this callous sort of carelessness you’re giving it. Those who die do so in their time, and those who live do so in their time.” She sighed, her eyes piercing into his soul. “People can be brought back,” She admitted guardedly. “At great cost—with the disruption of the balance. It’s not smart, though—you’re still young, you still have life left. When you die, you’ll be reunited. But isn’t it worth it to live, even without him? To have your time above the surface?” She beseeched him.

“I know that. I know—I do! I’ve heard it all before. But I can’t—I have to bring him back! I have to. I can’t… I can’t live without him.” Scott’s calm voice was quickly falling apart, his vulnerabilities laid more plain than he’d ever cared to have them be before—more than he’d ever even let him see.

“If you know, then why are you asking?” Her face looked hard as stone before she sighed, and the sharp lines of her face softening. “No, I know why. I can’t, though. Well, I could—but I won’t. There is more at work than you understand, little mortal.” Her tone was soft, but the hard truth in it hurt. He couldn’t give him up. Not yet! He’d barely even tried yet!

“Please. You’re clearly affiliated with death—couldn’t you help me?” He pleaded, all his dignity left to rot in the wake of this one chance, this one person who could bring him back when Scott couldn’t.

“I’d love to help you—I would—it’s not like I’ve never done it before—but that’s not how life is supposed to work. It throws off the balance, and doing it once was quite enough. I can’t risk any more.”

His eyes are wide and pleading, the absence of anything but desperation—a human brought to their last reserves, and, if she was reading his trembling correctly, to his knees also. Pity bloomed in her heart for the small, sniveling creature before her. She’d always been too soft on the mortals.

“…I suppose I could do something. But—no—don’t look at me like that. I can’t do it. That would destroy the balance. But… you could. For a price.”

She tilted her head, eyes scanning the human. This wasn’t smart—giving power over death to a mortal? It was unheard of, and decidedly stupid.

But it could work.

And wasn’t she willing? He’d keep trying even if she said no, anyway, and it’s not like she could (or would) take him before his time.

“I don’t give power freely, and I give favours even less so. Had you not managed to summon me, I never would have done this. Nevertheless—I can give you the power to bring things back from the dead, and to kill them again. It will take practice. Control. Effort. It will take more from you than it gives, and every spell will come at a price. But, one day—one day it can bring him back. If it does depends on you, and how far you’re willing to go. Would you risk that—for him? Would you accept that?” She extended the offer cautiously, eyes searching his expression for any sort of greed. She found none.

The human straightened. He still looked shaky—still looked afraid—still looked hopeless. But he was trying, bless his little heart, to look brave. His expression was determined, resolute; his mind already made up. “Yes,” He agreed, his voice clearly shivering but strong enough to be sure.

“Good, because there’s more. I don’t only have to worry about the balance—the other gods would have a fit if they found out, and I can’t have that, not after… Well, you don’t need to know. I have to make this look like I need you—and for that, I need your soul.”

“You need… my soul.” The mortal spoke slowly, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend the words.

“Yes. Just a piece—though it’ll all be mine when you die—relax, I’m not a bad goddess. You’ll be fine. You don’t have to take the deal, though—only if you want the power. Only if you want him back that much.” He seemed to take her words as a challenge, as if she were accusing him of not caring enough. Whatever reservation he had left vanished, and his face set into hard lines.

“Yes. Yes, whatever it takes. Whatever it takes.” His voice was made of the same steel, his decision set. He would not be changing his mind anytime soon. And if he did—when he did—it would be too late.

“Then take my hand.” She stretched it out almost nonchalantly, her fingers hanging daintily in the air, dangling as if moved by an invisible wind. After all—some of the most dangerous things could be the most beautiful, the most inviting.

The mortal reached his hand out, and took it—a mistake, but one she could forgive. Wouldn’t she have done the same thing?

She saw the moment it hit him, the dark power racing up his hand, into his bloodstream, towards his head. Always towards the head, and then the heart. It was a gift, not a curse, though you might call it one. Curses went for the heart first.

She watched him fall, the power all too much for his small, sensitive little body, and unable to cope with that little something extra—his debt.

That little piece of soul.

She was sure, as she watched him shiver and convulse, that she’d take good care of it. He wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Scott heaved himself up off the floor, clutching his hand to his chest. Not that it mattered—the pain was in his whole body, equally miserable everywhere. He staggered around the room before his fingers hit the wall, which he gratefully leaned on for balance.

He glanced around, perplexed to see that the Death Goddess was no longer here. Though, he couldn’t be too surprised—deities go as they please, and she’d already gotten what she wanted.

But he had also gotten what he wanted. Or, almost. He had to learn how to, but… he could bring him back. He could! He just had to…

He stormed out of the room in a fury, ignoring the raging pain that caused. He had to get started, had to start studying—he wanted him back as soon as possible. He’d figure out how to do it, and nothing, nothing would stop him.

He nearly walked right past the mirror before he noticed it. Just a flash in his peripheral vision—something white?

He turned, looking at the mirror with a perplexed expression. His reflection looked back at him with the same expression, the same pale-set face and long robes, the same green eyes and… black…

Why was part of his hair white?

He hurried to the mirror, his hand already reaching up and tugging at it. Why was his hair white? His hair was black, and he was still young. None of it should be white!

Had he spilled something on it? Maybe cast a wrong spell? Perhaps—

A wrong spell.

Scott gasped a little, his hand falling to his mouth.

She’d done this. She’d left him a little mark, just enough to remind him of this deal and what he’d agreed to.

Just enough to haunt him.

He stood there staring for a long time until he moved.

He didn’t have time for this. He finally had the power to bring him back and he wasn’t going to waste it on something this silly.

He shot his reflection a dark look as he walked away. He’d just have to dye his hair back later.

The color didn’t match at all.

And if he was honest… it unnerved him. He hated owing people things; it made him feel vulnerable.

And he owed Death herself his soul.

Perhaps he hadn’t thought this through.