locks_it_up: (Default)
[personal profile] locks_it_up
Death, it turns out, has a small apartment that seems to be somewhere in Southern California, judging by the view from the linen-curtained windows.

And a shabby, well-loved purple couch. Overstuffed, and, sitting on top of a throw pillow, there's a small stuffed chicken. A small bar-thing seperates the kitchen from the living room. She spreads her arms out, grinning.

"This is my place. Would you like a drink?"

Small plastic dinosaurs lurk in stacks of magazines and books and cds. There's a fishbowl in a corner, right underneath a family photo. The place is rather cheery, all in all.

Date: 2005-10-04 08:51 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (squinty and confused)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
The afterlife is an apartment.

He isn't sure if this is one of those things that's so deep, complex, and richly symbolic that he can't understand it, or something that makes no rutting sense whatsoever.

A small part of him that isn't boggling approves of the dinosaurs, though.

"Uh." Unthinking, Wash massages his chest. "Tea would...tea sounds good."

Date: 2005-10-11 08:05 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (cold/bandaged)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
"Yeah. Um. Just sugar. Xièxie."

Sitting down seems like a very good idea all of a sudden. So Wash walks, not entirely steady, to the bright purple couch and sits down, hard. The throw pillow bounces a little.

He stares at his hands and forces his throat into working.

Date: 2005-10-11 08:12 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (cold/bandaged)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
"I don't know."

Both hands wrap around the mug, automatically. He doesn't drink right away.

"I think so."

His eyes burn, and he has to blink a few times before he can look up at her.

"Are they?"

Date: 2005-10-11 08:35 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (looking down)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
"Yeah?"

It doesn't erase the memory of Zoe cradling his head, pleading with him to move. It helps steady him, though.

A little.

Wash exhales and brings the mug to his mouth, taking a small, experimental sip. It tastes almost jarringly normal.

"Good. That's...." A small, weak smile. "Ain't that desperate to see them all again so soon. Not if -- "

Not if it means they have to die, too.

Date: 2005-10-11 08:49 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (looking down)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
He laughs; even manages to stop it from turning into a sob halfway through, because what the hell else can he do? He just died, and now he's drinking tea with a decidedly un-Grim Reaper who owns stuffed chickens instead of a scythe.

A few beats pass in silence as he sips the tea. Then: "So...this is it, huh?" he ventures, finally. "I'm in an apartment from here to eternity?"

Date: 2005-10-11 09:04 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (smile; looking down)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
"Nah, don't worry. It's...." Another small smile as he glances at the dinosaurs. "Kinda like home. Things stay tidy for too long and I get alarmed. Or break out in hives. Sometimes both at once, on the very memorable occasions."

Date: 2005-10-12 04:03 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (curious)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
"You do?"

Wash brightens, by a degree.

"That's shiny. I saw some real ones in the bar a couple times; these tiny, tiny things, just babies, running around all over the place. It was rutting amazing. I kept," and he breaks into a chuckle, "I kept trying to convince my wife to let me keep one -- Lilly Kane, you probably know her, she even managed to smuggle one of them on the ship once, this little talking pterodactyl, and Zoe...."

He trails off, wistful, and briefly glances down at his mug again.

"Is it okay if I see him?" he asks her, somewhat hesitant. "The one you've got?"

Date: 2005-10-20 07:58 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (dinos!)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
Wash makes a quiet noise that's somewhere between a honk and a squeak.

It's reflex. Say sorry.

"Hey, Shadow," he says softly, warm. Just as gentle, he smooths the down along its back, and carefully pulls his nose away. "It's nice to meet you, too.

Date: 2005-10-20 08:14 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (laugh; looking down)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
So is Wash.

Because, well: dinosaur. And not only that, but a dinosaur that's purring at him.

"You like that, huh?" he murmurs, and scritches the top of Shadow's head. "Aren't you a sweetheart."

Date: 2005-10-20 08:24 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (looking down)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
"He is."

I want one is the immediate thought that follows, and one that sets off a pang of regret. It's quiet, though. Muted.

Kind of useless at this stage to dwell on --

There's a sudden, sharp knock at the door.

Date: 2005-10-20 08:39 pm (UTC)
flybywash: (listening; worried)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
There's a strange, indistinct buzzing in the back of Wash's mind. Slowly, he stands up, eyes on the door.

Two choices, he assumed. Follow Shepherd Book to wherever he had gone, or return to Milliways by the only door he knew.

"I think it might be for me," he says vaguely.

It didn't occur to him that there might be a third one.

Date: 2005-10-20 08:51 pm (UTC)
flybywash: ([serenity] in space)
From: [personal profile] flybywash
Wash walks over, opens the door.

It's dark beyond the threshold. Not in the way the black's dark, either. This is unending, unchanging, and lightless: what will happen the day the 'verse itself dies. He has a crazy urge to fling himself backwards and slam the door before he topples into it.

But there's some kind of haze out there, illuminated in the light of Death's apartment, that's sweeping itself into a familiar shape. And a voice, too, harsh and melodic and very, very old. Kind of like a raven's caw.

He listens to it, and inhales audibly as a sudden, fierce joy breaks across his face.

Until you decide what to do with you.

Yeah. He thinks he's decided.

A final glance over his shoulder at Death; a small, silent smile in thanks. Then Wash turns back to the door, closes his eyes, and breathes deep as he crosses into the space-between.

The door swings shut with a quiet click.

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Death of the Endless

January 2007

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