[R] Dariel talks with a Lady

     Wreckage from the aftermath of the fighting was strewn about the deck of
the _Arcas_ and the cries of the dying came from all sides.

     Dariel walked a tightrope.  On one side swarmed the living, resplendent
in their rainbow hues, buzzing noisily, limbs flailing ceaselessly in a movie
playing much too quickly.  On the other side stood the dead, painted in black
and white, quietly frozen in eternity.  The division drifted from right to
left and back again as sluggishly twisting and fading ghosts slid slowly from
the line to one side or to the other.  Occasionally, a hand from the living
grasped a straggler on the line and pulled him back into full color.  Almost
as often, a hand from the living roughly shoved one of the ghosts, screaming,
into the monochromatic stillness.

     He found her, feet placed one to each side of the line, leaning over a
sailor whose body appeared to have been mauled by a large, clawed animal.

     Dariel knelt before addressing her.  He was, after all, an uninvited
guest.  "Lady, bide a moment.  I need to speak with you.  Please."

     The girl/woman looked up to see who had spoken.  Her skin was pale,
almost chalky white, her eyes dark, and her hair blacker than night.

     She seemed startled.  "I'm busy, Dariel.  What are you doing here?"

     "You're always busy, Lady."

     "Get up.  I hate that sort of foolishness--I don't own you.  So
soon...  How goes the struggle?"

     "Poorly.  There are no other Seekers and losses are great.  But
there are Guardians and Warriors still to be made."

     "That bad.  No other Seekers."  She bit her lip, then released it.
"I like it here a lot.  Is it already time to say goodbye?"

     "No.  Or I don't think so, at least.  The fighting is far away.  I
was sent to return four Archons who broke the Seal.  But you would know
better than I do, Lady, if there was a Reaverschild here."

     The ankh that dangled from a chain around her neck glinted softly as
she shook her head.  "I couldn't tell you even if I did.  You know that."

     "Well, Lady, then tell me if it is possible.  The Seal was broken
twice.  I need to know if it still holds.  I'm not a Wayfarer."

     "Very well.  It does not--cannot."

     "Thank you, Lady.  I'll be watching.  And I'll try my best."

     "Dariel?"

     "Yes?"

     "Good luck."

     Dariel had much to ponder as he returned to the physical realm, and
much to prepare for...
--
ADMIN:  The Lady, in case it is not apparent from the writing, is Death.
        I believe this particular personification of Death was created
        by Neil Gaiman in the _Sandman_ comic book, published by DC.
        Variants thereof have appeared from time to time in a.p.d-i,
        though the reasons escape me.  :-)

Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to:
Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu)
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