we served a purpose, like a bloody circus;

[ladyfair]

Bam! You're dead.

Well, it might not have happened with a bam or a bang--maybe just a whimper. Afterwards, some psychopomp or another grabbed your hand and led you here, to this awkward waiting room on the astral plane.

There's stale coffee and some mediocre donuts. The chairs are moderately comfortable, and the paintings on the wall are pretty but somewhat unsettling.

Every so often one of the gods' messengers shows up and fetches someone to take them to their proper place in the afterlife.

It's kind of boring.

Comments

[pummelgranite]

[It's very, very boring. She's not sure how long she's been here. three weeks ago, she got up out of her seat for the first time to get a donut. Every once in a while she still looks at the thing in her hands and thinks about taking a bite.

For a long time, she didnt even notice the wait. There was no more plasma burning the inside of her head. It had all poured out into those precious, perfect notes. But she is dead, and she feels it, as much as she feels any thing. ]

[ladyfair]

[ Death goes on.

She might have started to recognize some of the messengers coming and going, if she's been paying attention. She probably hasn't noticed Aphrodite's messenger occasionally glancing over at her and studying her; he's trying to be discreet.

Whether she has or hasn't, though... ]

--missing one, so why don't I bring her to Aphrodite now?

[ He's talking to one of the minor psychopomps nearby, absently gesturing with his caduceus as he speaks. His voice is almost unnaturally soft but he enunciates perfectly and it carries well. ]

I don't know what the matter is with this "recurrence" thing. It's not my business, is it now?

[ He looks at her again, longer this time, not trying to hide it. Then he says something more quietly to the psychopomp, and it looks like there might actually be concern on his face. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ She catches the look, and keeps looking. Its about the most attention shes given anything besides her cuticles in days. She holds his gaze pretty firmly for a silent waif. ]

[ladyfair]

[ After a little further conversation with the random low-level psychopomp, Juliet walks quietly over to her. He taps the caduceus lightly on the floor. ]

Good morning, starshine. The astral plane says hello.

[pummelgranite]

[ She's silent a long moment. Then she takes a deep breath in and a slow exhale. Her knees, which she'd had pulled up to her chest, by and large, extend slowly to the floor, and she leans back in her seat. A single perfect eyebrow lifts up. ]

. . . Oliver?

[ladyfair]

No, darling, that would be "Consider Yourself." That was Hair.

[pummelgranite]

The singer's name was Oliver, smart ass.

[ladyfair]

[ He tips his head back for a second, looking almost surprised, a little pleased.

His words, however, are slightly sardonic. ]

Do I sound like a singer to you?

[ His voice is perpetually breathless, almost a whisper. ]

Here.

[ He holds out his free hand to her. ]

[pummelgranite]

I didn't mean- [ She huffs instead of finishing her thought, and then looks at his hand. ]


What, already?

[ladyfair]

[ He raises a brow. ]

Oh, no. We have no idea what to do with you. But it breaks my heart to see you just sitting there, so would you like to come to our mother's temple for now?

[ His breathless little voice is light and almost cautious. He isn't telling the full story here, certainly, but there's no tell of an actual lie on his face or in his tone. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ Interesting. She'd spent quite a while wrapped up in how little she knew, about divinity or death, that the idea that even the powers-that-be were out of the loop caught her attention the way stale donut simply had failed to do.

There's 90 years until she goes on stage again. If she goes on stage again. Either way she has some time to-


. . . well . . . ]

Yer mum have a liquor cabinet?

[ladyfair]

She's married to the god of the vine.

[ A beat. ]

Or, well, he fathered some of her children anyway.

[ He shrugs. ]

[pummelgranite]

Uh huh . . .


[ It comes out sounding like she doesn't believe him, but also doesn't care that she doesn't believe. Her hand finds his anyway. ]

[ladyfair]

[ He gives her an encouraging smile and gestures with the caduceus. ]

Let's go.

[ The functionary he was talking to a minute ago opens the door, and he leads her towards it. ]

Do you remember your name? Not everybody--

[ He falls silent and watches her. ]

[pummelgranite]

Eurydice.

[ The lie is out of her mouth before she realizes its coming. Shit. Well, nothing to do but play it cool. She stands (coolly), and places her pastry aside (coolly), and heads towards the door (at maximum cool). ]

[motherloving]

[ walks in holding his caduceus in one hand and a bowl full of pomegranates in the other. Refreshments are important for lost souls. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ well there's a bit of a commotion in the waiting room today. SOMEONE has already laid out a grim reaper, two black dogs, and is making her way through a flock of ravens that are actually pretty good guys and definitely don't deserve this ]

Yeah, caw caw yourselves, motherfuckers! I'm not lost! I know where I'm going! And you can all fuck off!

[ she punches another bird right out of the air. ouch. ]

[motherloving]

[ pauses ]

Oh dear.

[ he actually looks somewhat abashed ]

[pummelgranite]

You want some, pretty boy!?

[motherloving]

[ gently puts down the bowl of pomegranates on a nearby counter so he can lift one hand in a gesture of surrender ]

Oh, no, you'd crush me.

[pummelgranite]

[ She looks at the fruit dubiously. Then she looks at the bowl of pomegranates. ]

Fuckin right.

[motherloving]

Why don't you talk it out instead of going on a rampage, darling?

[ he sounds more hopeful about this prospect than he really should be ]

[pummelgranite]

Are we actually going to talk?

[motherloving]

[ tilts his head ]

Why wouldn't we?

[ pause ]

Would you like a pomegranate? They're always in season here.

[thanks_satan]

[ she... does in fact want a pomegranate... but still too much in a snit ]

Because no one else here will.