Sisters Who: Del and Death [Anyone else?] What: Sisters talk. It's open for Del if anyone wants, or can be a one-shot. When: Around the time that people are on brinks Where: Cafe
.She was in the cafe again. Or rather sitting outside, mismatched gaze focused on the pie in front of her. It was treacly sweet, which she liked. And the strawberries offset the sweetness just enough where it tasted like stuffed animals and growing up, rather than specifically tea parties or specifically hunger. Butterflies were flittering around the tables, and half of Del's lavared hair was shorn close..like a military buzzcut. She didn't seem to mind at all. Up from the pie she looked, fork pointing to one person or another. "Yes and no." Waiting. "No." Another point of pronged utensil at someone else who walked by. "No." Yet another. For a few minutes, she'd point to different people..some known, some barely remembered. Sometimes people were like the buzzing bees that Dreams could be. Angry-loud and dying dying away with the passing of each eye-open moment. That was how someone once described it. Delirium told her Brother, giggling, that he was Bees. He didn't get the joke. He didn't always, but humoured her anyway.
With the strange redhead, legs swinging underneath the chair and swooshing past a German Shepherd, was another young woman. She was older than Del, and much more calm (sane) looking. She was also all of the colours scribbled haphazardly together and none of the colours at all. Black and white, all and absence. Pale white woman with a penchant for black clothing. She, of course, only wore black until there was something darker to come along. And this Goth-looking woman was answering Del's observations in quiet tones. "No, not yet." Corrected with a motion to one of the people that Delirium pointed to. It got a strange look from the redhead. "I haven't seen her yet. I will, though." She saw everyone.
"Some are seen already, but not now." It was something that the Youngest didn't understand. How did this town have people who are alive, but have died? Why were they younger than when her Sister met them? Maybe this town was like her, broken times and flying fish. What she also didn't understand was why Death was here to begin with. No, that was a lie. She understood all too well. But that didn't mean that she wanted to. "We'll play today?"
"I have work, possibly." It was a job, but someone had to do it, Death supposed silently. She didn't mind it, really. "They've gotten their time, Del." Her reminder was met with a child's look. Green and blue eyes had shifted to the calm woman, narrowed, and Death knew it. "I know that they're your friends.." The Eldest sister started quietly, apologetically. Sometimes kid gloves were needed for the woman-child (child-woman). "And I'm not sure whether it will be today." She smirked slightly then, taking a sip of her herbal tea. Everyone said that Death was always a sure thing. Nothing more sure than Death. And taxes. But sometimes the former was unsure of the when. Either way, she looked over to Del and checked her over. Seemed no worse for wear, and content to stick around. Maybe it was because of the strangeness that Delirium looked mostly content. Then she looked to Barnabas down on the floor. "You both have been alright?"
The dog looked up. Oh, alright enough. She was at least amiable enough to sleeping inside from time to time during the winter. Of course dogs talked. At least the sensible ones did. It was just a matter of finding someone who would listen. The black haired woman nodded at his answer and bent down, petting the animal. "I'm glad. And perhaps I'll come here when it's my Day. It is coming soon." With that, the sisters talked more. Or rather, Delirium spoke and Death listened with an interjection here or there. Some people gave them funny looks as they passed by. Whether it was because they were an odd-looking pair, or because there was possibly only one of them visibly there to begin with, was unknown. But they talked for a little while, and the Elder was standing to get up. "I have to go."
"I know. Fading, fading way." Solemnly spoken from the redhead. The butterflies were returning to their table, then. But not on her head yet. "Maybe the town will forget." Del spoke hopefully, and then looked down at her pie crumbs. "Time forgets."
"But we don't." Death spoke simply, and placed her hand on Del's shoulder. Then she walked away.