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Oct. 4th, 2005 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
locks_it_upDeath, 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.
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.
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Date: 2005-10-20 07:58 pm (UTC)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.
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Date: 2005-10-20 08:05 pm (UTC)The amber eyes fixed on Wash are fiercely intelligent.
It rubs up against his fingers, and makes another noise, one that almost sounds like a cat purring. Just for a moment.
Death? Is beaming.
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Date: 2005-10-20 08:14 pm (UTC)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."
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Date: 2005-10-20 08:16 pm (UTC)"He catches bugs and things. And eats carrion. He's like a cute little vulture."
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Date: 2005-10-20 08:24 pm (UTC)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.
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Date: 2005-10-20 08:28 pm (UTC)Death doesn't get many visitors. Not here, at any rate.
"Wonder who that could be..."
The dinosaur jumps from Wash's lap, scampers behind her feet.
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Date: 2005-10-20 08:39 pm (UTC)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.
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Date: 2005-10-20 08:42 pm (UTC)She's not saying anything.
"Go ahead and answer it, then."
She's smiling.
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Date: 2005-10-20 08:51 pm (UTC)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.