Chapter Text
In many ways, being dead was exactly what Vax would’ve expected. He both felt and did not feel cold; he both did and did not have a body. It felt as though his eyes were open in utter blackness, but there was no real sight. There was no real anything.
Except that there was. The part of Vax that remembered how the passing of time felt thought that it had been a very long time. The rest of him cared not at all.
The thing that was was a raven. There was more, Vax felt sure. He caught flashes of echoes, as of from whispers in a huge obsidian room. He thought perhaps there were eyes. But these were the ideas of things, not the physical objects he no longer had a body to identify, and so it took all of his concentration to focus on the Raven. As he did, it unfolded in front of him, an endless origami figure of feathers and flight, watchful eyes unfolding into omniscience, into power and death and-
Vax woke, which frankly was not a thing he had ever expected to do again. Thoughtlessly, he squeezed his eyes shut against the candlelight, blinding after the darkness. He felt himself groan.
“You did quite well. You should be proud,” he heard from somewhere behind him. Vax groaned.
Which meant he had ears. And in hindsight, also eyes, a mouth, vocal chords. Somehow expecting to be sore, Vax hauled himself upright and forced his eyes open. They stung with tears that never came, protesting the light.
He was in a room. It looked like a strange hybrid between a study and a living room, and the cot he was siting on was angled oddly out in the open like an afterthought. There didn’t seem to be any open wall space to shove it up against. Vax took a quick inventory of the space, more out of instinct than any real sense of danger. If anything, he was quite calm. There were no weapons easy to hand, but there were myriad of possible improvised weapons, including several heavy candle sticks, an instrument case of some sort, a few heavy looking (possibly magical) tchotchkes, and what looked like an umbrella. There was only a single escape route- a heavy door on the opposite side of the room. The only immediate possibility threat was the man who had spoken.
He was impressively well put together, in a way that reminded Vax, for one aching moment, of Gilmore. His black dreadlocks were pulled back and tastefully decorated with gold bands. His eyes were neatly lined with some shimmery gold substance, and while the cut of his clothing was unfamiliar, it was perfectly tailored and in contrasting textures of black.
He was watching Vax with even, steady eyes. He had a quill in one hand, as if he had paused in the middle of writing something.
“I’m Kravitz,” he said, before Vax could open his mouth to ask. “Welcome to the Raven Queen’s service.”