milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Shelley appears to have been shot. This is both irritating and inconvenient.

However, she will allow that despite the waiting period, the afterlife is acceptable, the company is pleasant enough, and her wardrobe is similar enough to her normal one as to cause no problems, despite the fact that it leans towards red and black - neither of which are her favourite colour. (Redheads should not wear red a lot, she feels.)

What is causing her consternation is the sudden appearance of a place she has not seen in over a year, and had almost thought she never would again.

You'd be excused for thinking she'd never been here before - let alone lived here - as she stands frozen in the doorway, staring about.

[OOC: Have gone for bedtimes. Slowtimes, as are placeholder tags, are most welcome! ♥]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That is good, Death confirms. Maybe you could check it if your room is gone.

"...Yes, I think I will."

Because in Milliways, whole rooms probably do fit in the Lost Property box.

Which isn't exactly what he meant, but still.

You have been well? Before you died.

Again.

Still worth a check!

"I was, thank you," she says, slightly guiltily. "Although I was a little put out that the people who killed me weren't even looking for me. It's embarrassing to die of shoddy fact-checking."

There are more embarrassing ways to die.

He knows.

Yes, she rather supposes he does.

"I expect so. That's something. Do you know-"

She looks even more guilty. "I know. No business, but- do you know what happens after? I'm sort of... waiting, out there." She gestures at the door.

That depends on you, Death says.

I cannot tell you.

"Oh," she says. "Fair enough. I only have thirty-four days before I find out, at any rate."

What happens in thirty four days?

And should he know this?

"I... don't know," Shelley says. "But it seems to vary."

She has a sneaking suspicion that she's dead for good if she can't find her way back before then. It's hard to know what to feel about that.

Do all humans have thirty four days?

It seems very weird.

"No. Natalie has seventeen years. We think it might be something to do with trying to be good while you are alive. That's what they told us in church when I was little."

Seventeen years in the Bar?

"Er, no - out there. It's like a little... waiting place. I think it might be a poorly-organised purgatory."

I have nothing to do with that, says Death. I'm very organised.

"I believe you," Shelley says firmly.

"Tackleford is just like that. I blame the goblins."

The goblins disorganised your afterlife?

He wouldn't put it past them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only