Times Are Changing. [Open To Anyone]

...Ring... ring... ring...

The sound of bells rang in the distance. Far into the bleak, dark night. The sound of something hard hitting rock and dirt as the rain sprinkled down on the crust. The wind softly pushing trees up against another, but only making the night more eerie. The sound of bells dangling grew louder, echoing. In the near distance, Nimbus roamed. His markings flashing in the darkness, the god of death was present among the mortals. And at his side was the heartless (literally), a nameless minion. But a pet to Nimbus. He was a skeleton of a dragon, covered by bits of flesh and pupil-less eyes in his torn sockets. If anything, he looked like a zombie. Nimbus walked, the minion close beside him. "It is not often you take me out for walks, god of death." The minion spoke casually, but callously. "Not even I get out much. Taking a helpless soul like you out with me doesn't make a difference, does it not?" Nimbus responded in the same cold manner as the minion had. The said minion was formerly a Nightwing, and lived up to Nightwing stereotypes. Living, breathing, bathing in darkness. Consumed by it. Nimbus had sent him to the void when he was doing no good in his past life. But then again, what is good? Good is a way of doing something that pleases another, according to the living. Evil is what the god of death was set out to be. A dark essence that only seeks evil, and death. He was never treated like some sort of savior other gods were sent out to be. Not now, not way back then, not ever.

"Why couldn't you do better?" His father had told him.

"You have such a notable, noble bloodline... and you disgrace it."

"You could've been the hunter we are famous to be. Killers! But you couldn't kill a weak human."

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Nimbus, who's memories shuffled up in his head as he sat on a stone near whoever's territory, found it impossible to think right now. His father's wish of him dying wouldn't ever come true. He was immortal. And while others would grin at the thought of living forever, Nimbus only frowned.

A breeze blew past, gently and slightly lifting the feathers it moved under. For a moment they remained suspended, enjoying the brief freedom from the suffocating manner in which they lay atop each other. But such was their nature, and unlike living things, they could not hope to change it. Like them, a pair of long whiskers also flowed on the breeze. The wearer of these whiskers and feathers shifted their weight from one paw to another, further flattening the grass beneath them. Hazel eyes that seemed almost gold as the sunlight filled them, blinked against it then moved away from the mountain range in the distance. Their new object of interest: a portal which had opened behind the God of Fortune. Through this portal, Kelarth could gaze upon the different realms, mortal and immortal alike. And as his eyes came to rest on it, he observed something he rarely saw; Nimbus had left his realm. Surely there must be something amiss on Pyrria. Why else would you go there? Kelarth thought as he watched. Perhaps he ought to visit, himself. After all he'd not been lately and when else should he find an opportunity to see Nimbus? The god was certainly the most reclusive and as a result, was hardly ever seen by even his fellow immortals. His mind made up, Kelarth stepped into the portal, leaving his realm to journey to Pyrria. Moments later, a second portal opened near the place Nimbus had come to rest. A brief walk of about five minutes found Kelarth finally approaching Nimbus. After shaking the rain from his feathered wings, he sat and dipped his head slightly in greeting before speaking. "It has been an age since you were last here. Has there been some catastrophe that I, even in my constant observations, have missed? I should think it would only be such a thing that would bid you welcome to this plane of the living."