milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

He's by the fireplace today on one of those very comfortable armchairs. His feet are crossed up on the coffee table and there's a copy of the Times open over his face. The tool of his trade is resting against the chair back, in easy reach for when he gets up.

It's a very odd position to find a skeleton in, but this is Milliways, after all.

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[OOC: I am in fact juts heading off for the evening. So slowtime y/n?]

Death lifts a corner of the paper to regard the child.

Who are you?

[yyy please. :D]

"Chume'da Allana Djo." She says, slurring a few of the letters. It's a long title for a small girl. "Call me Allana. Who're you?"

I am Death says Death, not moving his feet out of the principle of the thing.

[ugh no internet, so i'm just tagging up at the library, hopefully be around sooooon. sorry D:]

Allana's eyes widen appropriately. "Oh." She says softly, her fingers tightening around the tauntaun in her arms. Then she tilts her head. "Do you know my grandmama?"

Death leans forwards, regarding the toy speculatively.

I know everyone, he assures her.

"She was poisoned." Allana says softly. "I never met her. But...it must be cool knowin' everyone."

It has its uses, Death admits. I don't get to know people very well, though.

"Do you know when peoples will die?" Allana asks interestedly, hugging the tauntaun close.

I can find out, Death says. The knowledge is part of me.

"My gweat-gwandmother is really mean." She murmurs. It's almost a non-sequitor.

She eyes him for a while, just watching like a small child does. "This is Jacen, my tauntaun."

Is it? says Death.

Adn then, because he gets the impression thats' insufficient, he adds, Hello, Jacen.

She beams at him. And makes Jacen the tauntaun dance around a bit in the air. "Hello," she says, in a deeper voice.

She looks at the stuffed animal. "He's named after my fwend, who pwotects me and my Mama."

I see, Death says conversationally. I understand protection is needed sometimes

"Yes," She replies in the same tone. "The bad mens keep twying to assassinminate me and my Mama. We can have no more parties 'cause of them."

Ah, Death says. Assassins. They're always so busy.

She nods.

Like she understands. And who knows? Allana's special. She might really understand everything that he could possibly say to her.

Then again, she's four and easily distracted by shiny objects.

She thinks for a long moment, turning Jacen the tauntaun over in her hands. "Are you nice to them? The ones that die?"

Like her grandmother, or Jacen's brother. The one that has a ship named after him.

That's a difficult question, and he pauses as he considers it.

I try to make it easier. I take pride in my professionalism.

She nods, curling her fingers into Jacen's head. "Well," She says softly. "That's vewy nice of you."

Really? Death asks, surprised.

People don't usually call him nice.

"Weally." She nods.

Allana's met a lot of bad mens. And if Death is someone who helps the dead along, and makes them feel better, it can't be all that bad.

She supposes.

There's a moment of silence as Death tries to figure out what to say next.

Thank you.

"You're welcome." Allana says simply, smiling at him. "I should go home, I guess. I have a court dinner to get weady for."

She pulls a face. That's what she thinks of royal affairs!

Death grins. He can't do anything else.

Ah. Society, he says. Hob-nobbing and what-not. Have... what is it you're supposed to have? Fun?

"I fink so." She says gloomily. "But I'll just get fawned over and told what pwetty pwincess I am."

She knows. Thanks.

And this is not fun?