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neutral_omens2005-11-17 05:02 pm
angsty-death.livejournal.com) wrote in neutral_omens2005-11-17 05:02 pm
(no subject)
Date: October 21, 1999- 12:01 am
Status: Public
Setting: The lobby
Summary: Death is feeling rather mopey.
He had left his realm incognito, so he had to materialize himself some normal looking clothes- not that it mattered. A seven foot skeleton riding a horse in a black cowl or slacks and a baseball cap both stood out a considerable amount, but most people did not believe in an anamorphic personification of Death, so they didn't see him.
It was truly remarkable what people could avoid seeing if they didn't want to see it.
It had just been a normal day on the job- a few of the regulars, a war in the Middle East, several unfortunate squirrels, nothing out of the ordinary.
But when he went home to his realm, he began thinking, which, as Albert would say, was never a good idea for Death. Thinking led to emotion, emotion led to depression, and depression usually led to fluctuations from the line of duty.
He thought that he had gotton over his problems; duty was always number one, of course.
And yet...
Could he do it? Could he really do it when the time came for Susan?
Death decieded that this line was not one that wanted to pursure.
He was a couple of millenia due for a vacation, anyhow, Death tried to tell himself as he paced the skull littered room of endless shadows.
Just for a little while, just for enough time to forget about something, anything.
Besides, being Death, he knew what was going to be happening and where it was happening, if not all the exact specifics. Hopefully it wouldn't be like that entire fiasco the last time. Now that was just embarrasing.
Calling Binky and making sure to arrive after midnight- (it wouldn't do to start posturing all over the place) Death rode into the lobby, his cold blue eyes glancing about.
(OC: This'll probably make little to no sense for those that haven't read Discworld.)
Status: Public
Setting: The lobby
Summary: Death is feeling rather mopey.
He had left his realm incognito, so he had to materialize himself some normal looking clothes- not that it mattered. A seven foot skeleton riding a horse in a black cowl or slacks and a baseball cap both stood out a considerable amount, but most people did not believe in an anamorphic personification of Death, so they didn't see him.
It was truly remarkable what people could avoid seeing if they didn't want to see it.
It had just been a normal day on the job- a few of the regulars, a war in the Middle East, several unfortunate squirrels, nothing out of the ordinary.
But when he went home to his realm, he began thinking, which, as Albert would say, was never a good idea for Death. Thinking led to emotion, emotion led to depression, and depression usually led to fluctuations from the line of duty.
He thought that he had gotton over his problems; duty was always number one, of course.
And yet...
Could he do it? Could he really do it when the time came for Susan?
Death decieded that this line was not one that wanted to pursure.
He was a couple of millenia due for a vacation, anyhow, Death tried to tell himself as he paced the skull littered room of endless shadows.
Just for a little while, just for enough time to forget about something, anything.
Besides, being Death, he knew what was going to be happening and where it was happening, if not all the exact specifics. Hopefully it wouldn't be like that entire fiasco the last time. Now that was just embarrasing.
Calling Binky and making sure to arrive after midnight- (it wouldn't do to start posturing all over the place) Death rode into the lobby, his cold blue eyes glancing about.
(OC: This'll probably make little to no sense for those that haven't read Discworld.)
no subject
"Yes, I should go back to bed. There's a lovely stable for Binky out on the grounds and if you can find the Metatron, he'll give you your room assignment. I'll be glad to show you around another time, Bill."
With a wink, he headed back upstairs.