He's just sitting at a table in the food court.

The mall is crowded with people, with lives, pushing and shoving and whacking each other with shopping basg both accidentally and on purpose. The noise echoes off the tiled roof and mingles with the faded christmas music drifting out of patchy speakers here and there. The air is hot and heavy and blisteringly dry-- the heaters are on too strong, everyone's in winter coats and, packed in like this, the body heat raises the temperature by another couple of degrees.

And he's just sitting there, seemingly enjoying it all. The chair is swivelled sideways so he can watch the crowd as it flows by, filtering through the tables and streming into open areas-- a seething tide of irate humanity determined to save money no matter the cost.

He wears a trenchcoat, left open, revealing the long-sleeved black shirt he wears snug to his skin. Revealing the logo on the front-- a little frowning face in white. revealing tight bellbottom jeans, black, and a pair of combat boots, also black. his skin is white against all the black, and his hair has been bleached white as well, gelled up in loose tufts that seems to be melting in the oppressive heat of the mall.

The eyes he turns on the crowd are as white as fresh snow in a graveyard.

There's a rainbow, I mean a girl, skipping through the mall. Yes, skipping. Her waterfall of hair loose today, unrestrained by a braid or ponytail. Flashes of brilliant color accompany the natural. Her mismatched eyes sparkle as they scan the crowds. She's wearing worn jeans with holes in both knees, and long socks. One is different shades of sparkling purple and the other is vertical stripes of random rainbow colors. Her shirt is bright red plastered with Hello Kitty on the front.

She skips past the fast food stalls, gazing uninterestedly at the greasy junk displayed in the windows. Suddenly, she spots the young man sitting not far from her. Actually, she spots the back of his head.

She jogs over and asks it, "May I join you?"

The gaunt young man twists and glances up at the rainbow with white on white eyes. Not far up, though, as he's tall even when sitting.

He smiles at her question, and at her flaunting of the colours of life. One bone-thin hand waves at the three empty seats at his table.

"Go right ahead."

Her eyes widen, her mouth opens, and a slight breath of air escapes her parted lips.

"I know who you are! Your Death!" Woops. She didn't mean to say it quite that loudly. A few passerbys turn to give the pair startled glances, before hurrying - rather quickly - on. Her shoulders slouch a little, as she recedes into herself. She sinks into a chair opposite him.

"Oops. Sorry." He voice is lowered almost to a whisper now. The girl looks across the table at him sheepishly.

"That's okay-- those who heard you won't believe you."

He tilts his head at the girl, intrigued. "I see you know your mythology."

Her grin widens. She's clearly glad she didn't offend the god of Death.

"Some of it. There's lots I don't know. Like, I know theres a goddess of Love, and a god of Music, and one of Lies..." she pauses, thinking, "There's more... I can't remember the others... And I don't know any of their names... I'm sure you have many, but what would you like to be called?"

Her mismatched eyes rest on his white ones. To most people, her eyes were unsettling, but compared to Death's her's are nothing.

"Azrael. And you are...?"

Probably he could pick her name out, with a little concentration. Possibly, he already has. He's asking anyways.

"Don't you know?" The girl asks, with genuine curiosity. Her head cocked a little, a few locks of hair spilling over the greasy table. Her lanky arms rest in her lap and her eyes study the god sitting opposite her.

(shorty but goody...)

He leans in and nods.

"Dacia." He grins and says, "Most mortals prefer not to know that Death knows who they are."

She shrugs. "Ah well... I knew who you are. What's it like to be able to tell everyone's names? Do you know when we're all gonna die too? Oh wait, of course you do." She said all this fast enough so that he wasn't really able to get a word in edgewise but not too fast. In the slight pause she was forced to take to breath, her eyes widened in sudden realization. "Do you know... Wait... nevermind." Her shoulders slouched a little, as if remembering something she'd rather forget.

Azrael's lids droop in amusement, and he smiles lazily, leaning back.

"I don't think you really want to know."

There is a pause, in which Dacia tries to figure out what question that is a response to, before she guesses that it's probably a responce to all of them. She decides to ask him one question at a time, maybe then he'll give more satisfactory answers.

"How... how did you come to be? I mean... did you just appear or something?" Her face practicly glows with the questions hidden there.

"Interesting question."

He rubs a finger over the not-quite-clean tabletop.

"Some say I came into the world when Adam and Eve got thrown out of Paradise." He grins. "Some say I have always been around. Some say that I came into existence with the first life and will be here until the last life expires."

He leans forward slightly. "What do you believe?"

She stares at him.

"I... don't know. I guess it depends on.... stuff. Like the greek gods and goddesses... and the Christian god... the bible... the Torah... There's so many things to take into consideration that it's hard to pinpoint one truth." She trails off, staring at the table.

"Maybe there's more than one truth..." The last is said more to herself than the diety across from her. She is silent, as her mind buzzes over this possibility.

"Maybe," he agrees, defying the mythology just by being solidly present across the table from her.

The eyes trail up to him.

"That's not much of an answer." She glares accusingly, though the corners of her mouth twitch in amusement.

He grins.

"You expected more from the Grim Reaper?" he tilts his head just slightly to the left and grins at her.

"Well...." A pause, considering, "Yes. But, you're a god. I guess you have better things to do than be open." Another pause, longer this time.

"And you aren't just the Grim Reaper.... You're also the god of dreams..." Her brow furrows, as her mind turns this over.

"What, exactly, does that mean?"

"That I have dominion over dreams as well as death."

He walks his fingers over the tabletop, and a miniature Death appears, walking alongside. The image does not create fear, as his son's do. it's simply an image, somehow detached from reality but nonetheless there.

She leans forward, her chin almost touching the tabletop. Her eyes glitter.

"Cool...." Everything else races from her mind as she is momentarily distracted. "Do something else!"

With a mischevious glint, Azrael sets his palm flat on the table, and it... blossoms. Flowers sprout across the whole tabletop, as well as grass and sapling trees-- a spring scene, as through the table were made of seeded sod.

A daisy grows out of the table and bumps her in the chin, before she has a chance to jump back in surprise. She stared in amazement, with wide glittering eyes at the plot of fertile land before her. Pulling her gaze away from the table top, she glances up and around a small tree at the god across from her. Her mouth is agape, though the corners are pulled up.

"That...." She shakes her head, unable to think of any appropriate adjective to apply to it. "Can... can anyone else see it?" She looks around at the other shoppers and wanderers and peoplewatchers.

The god pulls his way away from the tabletop and the illusion disappears into nothingness, colours seeping back to clear.

"No... only you and me, this time."

He turns his palm over and reveals a daffodil that he had hidden there-- or had just spontaneously created, now.

Enchanted, she reaches out a thin hand to touch it, before realizing that it's probably not as solid as it look. Just an illusion. She pulls her hand back.

"This time?" She wondered what other time there was.

He nods. "I could make everyone see, but I don't particularly feel like causing a panic right now, as much fun as those are." He blows on the flower and it flutters as though from his breath, lifting off of his hand and transmuting into a yellow butterfly.

This is rather more showy than he usually does, but it's amusing.

Glittering green and blue eyes follow the path of the butterfly, and she smiles.

"For being the god of Death, you certainly seem to enjoy life...."

"And why not?" he says, brushing a hand over the butterfly, breaking it up into smoke which disappears into the air.

"Life is... fascinating."

"Yeah..." She agrees, and her voice trails off, caught up in the wonder of life. Her eyes still stare off into nothingness, around where the yellow butterfly dissappeared.

A sudden thought strikes her, and she turns to him. "Is there a god of Life?"

Azrael shrugs dismissively "There's a god of everything. Very few make it big, though. There's probably a god of life moping around somewhere, half-alive and barely real."

The girl was taken aback by this answer. It didn't seem... right that the god of Death would be 'alive' and well, while the god of life, if there was one, would be barely existant... It was almost too wierd for her to even concieve.

She'd think about it later, time to ask something else. "Did you get to... decide what you were going to be the god of?" That kind of when along with her original question. The question that she hadn't quite gotten an answer to. Okay, hadn't at all gotten an answer to. And she doubted she'd get a straight answer to this one as well.

Of course not.

He lifts an eyebrow at her and says, "What an incredibly strange question." Strange because the answer is obviously yes? Strange because the answer is obviously no? he doesn't indicate which.

"Do you have more? They're amusing."

She cocks a head at him.

"Us mortals, we tend to be that way." Mocking. And also, "Why would I ask another question, if you aren't even going to answer them?" Her eyes twinkle, almost... dangerously? Dangerous for whom though, it is not clear. Curiousity killed the cat, they say... but of course, they say a lot of things...

"Maybe you'll hit on another answer. Where there's life, there's hope, eh?"

This last is definitely mocking... teasing might be a better word. Amused, slightly condescending, but not particularly nasty.

She grins. Mayhaps there's something hidden behind that grin, mayhaps not.

"I don't seem to remember hitting on an answer in the first place." A pause, "And some say hope is the denial of reality. 'The carrot infront of the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it.' But that's a bit off topic now, isn't it?" More twinkling eyes, like green and blue stars.

Azrael's grin widens.

"Do they, now? Well, I am the Ultimate Reality... and you know, many people do deny me." Many people do hope.

You know, if you hang around Death too much, you'll really end up as a pessimist.

"I don't deny you, obviously." There's a tone in her voice, faint, that suggests that she's trying to prove something. What it is though, not even she knows.

"So. Are you going to answer any of my questions? Or must I go on speculating until driven insane by curiousity?" This tone suggested that wasn't likely to happen.

"Of course I will," he says, as though stating the obvious.

"You just haven't asked the right questions yet."

Well. Alrighty then. She doubted she could find a question that he deemed 'right', that would satify her curiosity.

"Alright." She pauses, considering. Pondering. Questioning. Well... there was that question. She wasn't sure if she wanted to ask it though. It seemed a bit rude, and she didn't want to get on the bad side of Death. Or even hurt his feelings, despite who he was. Was it even possible to hurt his feelings? Did god's emotions work in the same way humans did? Well... here goes....

"Do you.... care? I mean, about us," She gestured to the shoppers around her, "Mortals. Or do you just... take our souls wherever they go and... get on with your life? I mean..." She paused, wondering if she was even making any sense at all. "While your off... toying with mortals like they're some kind of play thing, do you ever consider what they're feeling?"

She paled slightly, her equivilent to a blush. She hadn't meant it to sound that rude. She hadn't meant to say it that way. Her head hung shamefully. Too late now.

"Rather a personal question, don't you think?" he says, leaning back, giving her something that might be a smile and might be a scowl and might be nothing at all.

"Looking for compassion on the cold face of Death? You could be surprised..." his tone doesn't indicate whether that would be a pleasant surprise or not.

He pauses, seeming to actually consider her question.

Her mouth opens... and closes... and repeats the process. She swallows. Her hands wring about themselves in her lap. She wants to say she's sorry, and then wonders if she is. Nothing escapes her mouth. As she sees he is, actually, considering her question, or perhaps just pondering what witty comment to make next, curiousity makes her hold her tongue.