milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Death is sitting at the bar, eating a curry.

Delicious curry.

Death watches this, then stands up, takes a step forward, and offers a hand to him to help him up.

Are you hurt?

"Let me yet live, Death, thus I would beseech you," the man stammers, recoiling from the hand, "tis not my time and place here, so how could it be my time to die, that you would come and fetch me?"

Death leaves the hand out for an awkward pause.

No business in the bar, he says finally.

Poins takes the hand.

"E'en Death must keep the rules?" he says, and stands. "For sooth, 'tis such a place of miracles!"

I don't know about 'must,' Death says. I choose to.

"So you are truly the one chargéd by God to reap all life on earth, and bring the souls of men unto their judgement?" Poins says.

A lord to make kings tremble on their thrones -- for sooth, one of the few that even wayward Poins would not call 'thou'.

Not by a god, says Death reproachfully. But otherwise, that is an accurate description.

"Who charged you, then, upon your great, grim duty?" Poins asks.

One bigger than the gods, is the answer.

Although I am charged mostly by belief.

"Greater than gods -- and not a god himself?" Poins asks, wondering. "If not a god, what would they then believe in?"

There are forces in a humans' lives more pressing than gods, Death remarks.

Me, for instance. Gods don't often make an appearance. I am a certainty.

"We do not merely die believing that we would," Poins says, "we die because we die. All men must die, if the believe or not; even the ignorant that cannot picture death for lack of knowledge may yet die."

All the more reason to believe

"I cannot not believe, because I know," Poins says. "But yet, it is a great if fearsome honour, Sir, to meet you here."

Having regained composure, he now bows.

Death bows in return.

It is nice to meet you, too.

"I am a mere Ned Poins, and like unto all mortals, nothing to your might," Poins says.

That's very flattering, says Death, but not entirely necessary.

"You know well who you are, reaper of all," Poins says.

He is still rather awed, if no longer afraid.

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