Sleipnir
The Eight-Legged Norse Horse
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Death never did have a high tolerance for dark, dingy or particularly grim settings, so naturally his realm was equal parts deathly and lovely: What better setting, he thought, than a place that could simultaneously be heaven and hell for you?
So he had chosen a beautiful palace in the mountains. He knew every person dwelling in the afterlife by name and many he allowed to live in his palace or the surrounding village. Some chose to live out in the wilds.
Others were banished there.
He stood on a balcony admiring the sunrise one fine day when he turned to look over his shoulder. Like clockwork, he thought as he saw a young lady there. "Nothing," he assured her. She looked crestfallen, but nodded.
Later in the morning, Death took to wandering the lands and villages around his palace. He liked the medieval sort of look: Very whimsical, he thought.