I'm guessing since the Horsemen are as independent as they are they show few people their homes without necessity, but what would it be like for their s/o to actually visit the Horsemen's home for the first time? What are all their homes like and can we get a quicl tour scenario? What would it take for them to actually open their homes to the person they care about most? I'd hope such a display of trust wouldnt be lost on their s/o! How do they feel about it... etc. etc. Hope your day is great!
FINALLY SHE GETS TO SOME OF THE OLDER ASKS!!! (O0O) xx
Death: He had actually asked you!
There was something in the looks the horseman had been sending you that day that probably should have clued you into the fact that he was thinking. Deeply. ‘But,’ you reason with yourself, ‘When is Death not thinking?’
Death’s thoughts had been circling around in his head for more than just a single day, however. He found himself contemplating how trustworthy you’d proven yourself to be. Time and again, your loyalty had moved, humbled and even enthralled the horseman. ‘If not Y/n,’ he speculates silently, ‘Then who?’ And at last, he’d asked.
“Y/n?” The sound of your name makes your ear twitch and you spin around with an earnest smile, meeting Death’s extraordinary eyes with your own. He notes how his mood rises significantly whenever you look at him without fear, hate or indifference. But complete, and total admiration. Even, dare he hope, adoration. Focusing on the utterly obvious soft spot he has for you, Death continues…
“I’d like to show you something…..”
All you can think of when he finally allows you to accompany him home is, ‘Wow, someone’s a minimalist.’
And it’s true. The eldest horseman’s home is modestly furnished, having only the bare essentials in way of comfort. There’s a four poster bed, built from old, dead wood. The same goes for the odd chair like structure in what you can only assume is the sitting room. The walls of the house are a very odd, dark grey, resembling stone, but the surface is far colder than the stuff you’re used to.
At least you can’t complain about the footing though. Throughout Death’s home, you discover that everything you walk upon feels as though you’re treading on the finest carpet in existence. Raising an eyebrow at the horseman, he shoots you a vaguely quizzical look before you ask him, “What is this?” Indicating the floor, Death follows your gaze and hums thoughtfully.
“Fur,” he states simply.
You blanch a little, “What?….All of it?” you demand incredulously, sweeping your eyes over the entire expanse of the ‘carpet’ that easily extends to the entirety of Death’s home. The horseman’s responding shrug does little to satiate your curiosity.
Letting him get away with his incessant need to be cryptic, you place your hands on your hips and appraise the home around you.
“It’s certainly….cozy,” you tease, earning a soft hum of laughter from Death as he catches your sarcasm.
“What can I say,” he quips, “I’ll only adorn my home with the things I need.”
You flash him a wide, devilish smirk. “Is that why you finally brought me here?” However, this time the horseman’s response makes you wipe the smirk off your face.
“Perhaps,” he murmurs quietly, turning to stalk through the house into the arsenal, leaving you staring at him in wonder.
War: Eventually, curiosity had overridden your overall uncertainty on the topic.
“War?” you call to the enormous horseman as he strides along behind you, “Where abouts are you from, anyway?” The casualness of the question takes him by surprise and you can almost feel the ground shake when he missteps. With a grunt, he responds, “I thought you knew? The Nephilim did not have a world of our own. So we-”
“No, that’s not what I meant…” you interrupt, “I meant, where are you living? Now. Specifically. Like, if you were to say ‘my home is…’ where would that be exactly?” The horseman matches your stride so that he can properly give you a look dripping with suspicion. You, in turn, match his glare with a perfectly innocent one of your own. You know how mistrustful War can be. Even more so after the events that led to his false imprisonment. But slowly, you’ve begun to feel that he’s offering you more and more of himself the more you give him good reason to. Even though you’d helped him out exponentially after he came to Earth 100 years after it’s demise, he was still slow to trust.
After a long moment, he seems to come to the conclusion that you’re worthy of such a trust, so he nods in understanding.
“You wish to see the place that I call home?” he guesses correctly. Your eyes shine excitedly when he voices the question you’d been longing to ask him.
“Oh yes! Yes please, War!” you clasp your hands as endearingly as possible and it doesn’t fail to drag a huffy laugh from his chest.
It’s damn hard for the Red Rider to refuse you when he’d only just admitted to himself, albeit begrudgingly, that you are possibly the greatest friend he has. When you see his home for the first time, you’re struck by just how military it is.
‘Well duh,’ you muse, ‘His name is War.’
The home itself boasts a grand entrance hall, trophy room, an entire floor upstairs for the bedroom, an armoury (of course) and an absolutely monstrous training room. You find that he’s laid down rugs of sorts, one in almost every room. They all belonged to both familiar demonic beasts and some you’d never seen before. His trophy room is full of heads, horns and even full sized, magically petrified creatures that War, at some point, had fought and slain.
You take in the strong stone floors and high, sturdy walls with ardor whilst War watches. At last, you peer up at him with a wide smile on your face. “War, this place is amazing! I can’t believe I’m only just seeing it, did you build it yourself?” The horseman scowls, snorting at the assumption that he might have had help, so you throw him an apologetic look. He eyes you for a moment, his next question giving you pause.
“Do you…really like it?” He sounds so unsure of himself, like he really values your opinion on this matter. It’s enough to floor you. Grinning brightly and reassuringly, you nod enthusiastically.
“Of course I do, War,” you promise.
“Good,” he states, losing any trace of doubt that lingered in his voice moments before, “This is your home now as well.”
Strife: He wouldn’t describe himself as a ‘home bird.’ The horseman would probably most attribute himself to the nomads of Earth. Those who wander and rarely settle, if ever. Yet…
“Surely you have somewhere to go when you’re not on Council business?” you ask him, head leaning against his shoulder thoughtfully as he sits beside you on your sofa. Strife kicks his legs up and crosses them over one another on the coffee table, earning himself a glare from you.
“Eh, I got a place,” he states nonchalantly.
Immediately, you perk up. “You do!? Where? Can you take me?” The horseman casts you a sidelong glance with a confused eyebrow raising at your sudden excitability.
“Sure, I guess?” he says carefully, “Dunno why you wanna go though. Not much to see. I don’t spend a lot of time there-”
“C’mon c’mon c’mon!” you squeak, ecstatic that he was so willing to show you his home. You leap up from the sofa and grab his hand, struggling to pull him up as he laughs and heaves himself off the cushions.
You step through a portal and arrive at a place that…..honestly isn’t that overwhelming.
“W-woah?” you stammer uncertainly, taking in the lush green landscape and half-built house that’s shadowed by thousand foot trees. If you didn’t know him better, you’d swear Strife was building on the Maker’s home world. The horseman shrugs at your reaction, undeterred.
“I told you it wasn’t anything special.” He scuffed a steel toe at the stone scaffolding that holds up a particularly eye-catching pillar of marble. You’re 48% sure it’s marble. Strife watches you with a bored expression as you step forward and raise a hand to lay it flat against the smooth surface of the pillar. Your head swivels from side to side as you survey the interior of his home. Although only half finished, the foundations are strong, the walls are bright and eye-catching and there’s a very distinctive Strife flare. Perhaps in the way the whole thing’s direction is still so unclear, so unfinished and unwilling to be completed. Not even the house knows what it could be.
Sadly, you turn to face the horseman and quirk a smile in his direction. His eyes roll but he doesn’t comment on your soft look. “I could help,” you ask timidly after a minute of quiet. Strife scoffs.
“Oh yeah? Why?” His abrasive response causes you to frown slightly, but you remain otherwise steadfast in your own reply.
You offer him a casual shrug. “Because I want to? Even you deserve a place to call home Strife,” you finish. The horseman’s eyes flash brightly in surprise for a moment before he chuckles deeply. Slinging an arm across your shoulders, he stands with you and stares up at the husk of a house.
“Don’t need a place to call home when I’ve got you,” he flirts, making you grin widely and look away with a hot blush creeping up your cheeks.
Fury: Like her eldest brother, Fury had been the one to ask if you wanted to see her home. Although, unlike Death, she hadn’t turned the decision over in her mind for days on end. Instead, one day she simply said to you ‘Oh! I’ve yet to show you where I live, Y/n.’ Not five minutes after she’d offered, you were strolling up to her front door.
Of course her home is the most intricate place you’ve ever seen. You really oughtn’t have been so surprised at the sheer magnificence of it. Letting out a low whistle, “This place rivals the White City!” you nod decisively, recalling the times when Azrael had kindly indulged you in your love of exploration. He’d been more than happy to give you a tour of his own home.
The horseman claps you amiably on the back with a light laugh. “I should hope so,” she smiles, “I am glad you like it, Y/n.” She watches you with an all too fond grin as you skip through the enormous pearl coloured archway that leads directly into a lobby, framed by the most intricate Imperial staircase you’ve ever seen. She graciously shows you her home on a room to room basis. You see something akin to a kitchen, with a large open fireplace and ebony surfaces that decorate the back wall. She shows you her personal library, making you nearly faint in response. It almost makes up for half of her house, books lining each wall and stretching up to the ceiling high above you. Next, she shows you upstairs, where, curiously, you notice she’s installed devices that closely resemble those that might be found in a human bathroom.
Quickly, Fury ushers you on, ignoring the questioning look you throw her way.
“And this,” she declares, sweeping a wide arc with her hand at the final chamber, “will be our bedroom.” Fury turns to you and smiles down kindly, “What do you think?”
Instead of answering straight away, you venture further into the room and marvel at the interior. There’s a wondrous, silken sheeted, queen sized bed laden with deep, wine red pillows. Velvety, purple curtains billow gently in the breeze, let in through a curved archway that leads out onto a wide balcony. Candles flicker, even now on every surface, creating a pleasant, warm light that makes you feel indescribably peaceful.
“Your home is beautiful, Fury..” you breathe, finally turning to face her. The horseman’s face twists wryly when she realises you didn’t catch her earlier hint. With a flamboyant wave of her hand, she gestures around the room.
“Our home, Y/n,” the horseman corrects you gently, revelling in the way your eyes light up in realisation and elation. Suddenly, the bathroom makes sense.