Zagreus tilts his head back, greedily gulping in the surface air. His chest heaves with the effort and Thanatos doesn't miss the quiet rattle of something broken in his chest snapping when he does. Zagreus keeps his eyes as wide open as he can, watching the clouds drift together and apart. The sounds of wind gently rustling the leaves of the herbs and vegetables in Persephone's garden fills the silence, slowly dragging some clouds together, mixing in the sky like ash and blood on skin.
"You know, the first time I saw them I thought they'd make noise." Zagreus' tired voice breaks the silence. Thanatos turns fully to look at the godling, humming in confusion.
"The clouds. When I looked up and saw one drift towards the other I was expecting them to make a bwoosh sound." Zagreus says it like it isn't something childish, voice so eager and genuine to experience everything the surface had to offer, that he doesn't realize how naive his isolation in the underworld makes him appear.
Thanatos says nothing, absent-mindedly scratching at his skin, already feeling the discomfort of the sunlight blistering his arms. He doesn't notice the dull pain, focused on watching Zagreus' expressions as he takes in the sight of the sky above them. The scrutinizing gaze is what causes him to see bruises on Zagreus' arm when he raises it, growing larger with each passing second, as if the air of the surface itself was battering him.
"Its so big." Zagreus mutters, fingers flexing, going as far as to rise on the tips of his toes. "It feels like it goes on forever. Uncle Zeu- um. The King has all that space to rule...I can see why my Lord Father feels dissatisfied with the lot he pulled." Zagreus catches himself, knowing that speaking a name of the gods here on the surface is begging to be seen. His mother still works endlessly below the earth to keep a war from ripping claws into Gaea's skin. It wouldn't do to risk all her work by speaking carelessly.
Thanatos still glances to the darkening clouds above them nervously, senses reaching hesitantly out to make sure it was just a normal storm, and not prying eyes that shouldn't see them here. Anywhere else on the surface, clouds such as that would promise snow, but the shielded fields of the underworld's queen whisper assurance of a warm summer rain.
Zagreus watches them eagerly, hand silently falling before reaching out to curl around Thanatos' fingers. He feels the small plush tucked against his heart warm at the touch, physically strengthened by the two gods and their bond. Zagreus took far too many blows from his Lord Father in exchange for saving his last whispered request to his lover to appear at his side here and now, outside of desperate and tense combat. He doesn't regret it whatsoever, even if the numb feeling in his other arm is starting to mess with his head.
Even standing here now, Zagreus can feel his strength fading but he stays determined, using his divine power to force his blood to circulate, far too aware of how his heart stopped beating a few breaths ago. His eyes continue watching as the clouds begin to weep, and he barks out a surprised laugh at the feeling of rain on his skin, eyes sliding closed to memorize the sensation.
"It's warm..." He whispers, stumbling more then stepping to lean into Thanatos' side. The god of Death laces their fingers properly, watching the expression on Zagreus's face. As the rain continues to fall, the drops mix with the blood on Zagreus' skin, each turning pink as it cleans off his latest toils beneath the earth.
With his eyes closed, Zagreus can't see how each drop of rain gets darker as it hits his skin, becoming thicker then water, beginning to reek of iron. A small squeeze around Thanatos' hand is the only warning before Zagreus gags, blood bubbling up from behind his lips. He grits his teeth, determined to keep from spilling it onto the soft grass of his mother's garden.
Thanatos can only coo, gently pulling Zagreus to his chest, ignoring how his robes soak up the deep red, turning the grey fabric black. Zagreus chokes on his divinity, hands weakly gripping at Thanatos' chiton.
"I don't want to go back yet-" Zagreus pleads, voice covered by the sound of the rain on the leaves around them. "I want to experience this with you. I want to relish in these small nothings, like mortals do."
Thanatos just coos again, hands combing through Zagreus' damp hair soothingly.
"It's okay. Stop fighting it. It will only feel worse if you do." He drawls, nose nuzzling against Zagreus' cheek. Zagreus does as he's told, going limp, breathing growing ragged and weak now that he isn't doing it for appearances sake. The decay of his skin is quicker too, now that he's no longer forcing his blood to flow through his veins, the Styx tugging him home. Thanatos hums in approval, floating back, letting Zagreus slump against him.
"It's alright. I'll take you home." Thanatos mutters to the lifeless body in his arms. The only response he receives is a tired death rattle, the last of the surface's air expelled from the god of blood's lungs.
There's always next time.
