It was cold, a side window lay open while a white curtain flowed freely, in and out. It was also dark, except for the seven ebony candles, all lit around a salt circle, a bowl of mixed spices set in front of the college student.

Nicki sighed as she stared into the white candle, sitting within the mixture before her. She had never expected to call upon Death, and really regretted doing this. Her red hair fell into her eyes, her Dior dress pants perfectly position so as not to wrinkle. If she really did meet Death, she was hoping to leave a good impression.

As she chanted the odd words, she grabbed the small steak knife that sat on the floor, pricking her tongue and wincing slightly. As her blood fell into the mixture, she cursed herself inside. What if it did work? What would happen then? Would she be forced to believe every article she had ever written? Were all these people not crazy, but informed? Questions stormed her mind as her blue eyes moved upward, focusing on the circle.

Her breath let out a steamy sigh, fear surrounding her. It was time for the truth.

It seems there's always a pause after the spell-- a few seconds lengthened indefinitely by anticipation. Maybe he does it on purpose.

And then he's sitting there, in a conscious mimickry of her pose, his long legs crossed within the containing circle. Pale. Dressed in a white business suit, his white tie pinned with a silver skull. His hair is shorn down to his skull, pale stubble only. Earrings encircle his ears from lobe to.. er... to the top. You know. A silver skull dangles from the left lobe.

His eyes, piercing and evenly white, rest on her.

He's smiling.

If there was any earthly way for a person to jump out of their skin, Nicki would have. Her sharp eyes gave the God in front of her a quick once-over, soon trying to remember what she was supposed to do. Oh, right... an interview.

Her long fingers slowly pulled the pad of paper beside her onto her lap, her perfectly manicured nails wrapping around the ink pen.

"Do... Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Now she just sounded stupid, and wondered if maybe she was dreaming what was happening. On the pad were a few questions, evenly spaced with room enough for answers. She had some gumption, that was for sure; but there's always a reason a person has fire-red hair...

The god raises his pale-white eyebrows.

"That is the usual arrangement," he says. This is true. Most people call death in order to ask questions of him. Why else?

His voice is really something else. It's not so obvious that you can't miss it, but the feel of it burrows into the subconscious, the feeling of wrongness, like fingers on a chalkboard or an ice-cube down the shirt.

Chills. It was like someone had run a fingernail down her back, beneath the expensive Dior sweater.

"About how often are you summoned to people, and what is the most common request?"

She tried to sound professional, though her airy voice wavered slightly towards the end. Maybe it was a dream, and she'd wake up in a few minutes.

Highly doubtful.

"I'm summoned quite often..." he grins. "But not always correctly."

The god pauses, tilting his head and resting it on a pale, bony hand. His wintery eyes remain fixed on the reporting student.

"Mostly, they ask questions... meaning of life type things, but also when they are going to die, or can I kill their enemies, or... other things." His grin curls at the edges in a decidedly suggestive manner.

She swiftly jotted down his answers, her curly writing befitting a highly fashionable college student.

"Do you posess people? And if so, how many people have you posessed?"

Loaded question, but one that's interesting, none the less. Her face was emotionless, though she was actually interested, and decided on answering her own insecurities later on.

"Possess?" he laughs, shaking his head gently.

"The phrase 'spectre of death' gets tossed around a lot, but I'm no ghost. I don't possess."

He doesn't count that whole deal with jonathan Gallo as possession. Not really.

She marked through the previous question, moving her eyes back to the Deity before her. She made sure not to make eye contact, but the white iris's always seemed to catch her gaze.

"Is it possible for Gods to have children? If so, do you have any?"

More loaded loaded questions. She figured if she was going to have an Interview With Death, she would make it worthwhile.

"Yes, it's possible... and yes, I do."

He pauses to consider, idly pocking the air where the containing circle presumably exists.

"We don't have a traditional father-son relationship, as I'm sure you can imagine..."

Nicki scribbled down the answer, slightly shocked. Was he telling the truth? She couldn't bother with that now. She wanted to continue on with the 'children' questions, but had more important issues to face.

"What do you think about the typical stereotype of death, with the scythe and skeletal hands?"

The apparition snaps his fingers, and suddenly he is the stereotypical version of death-- skeletal, draped in a black robe, holding a scythe upright so it doesn't break the sanctity of the protective circle around him.

"I think that, on occasion, it's quite accurate."

As a skeleton, he has no choice but to rin-- but there's the impression that he'd be grinning even if he had lips.

Great... he's sarcastic.

She jotted down what he had done, and then his reply.

"What do you find attractive in human women?" He had to have some kind of fetish, as he had a son. More reason he was... well, a man- whether he be god-like or not.

"Human... and female? Hmmn."

He pauses to consider such a narrowed field.

"She would have interesting hair... say, dark red, short and curly. Left to its own devices. Blue eyes, of course. She would look older than she really is... ideally, young adult. Slim."

He's just described Nikki, in so many words.

She stopped writing, looking upwards to the God in front of her. "Haha. Very funny." Did I just get smart with a Deity? In fact, she had. Her voice was dry, her face devoid of a smile. She really shouldn't toy with such things, but her own bitchy side had taken hold.

She marked through the question, though, flipping the page on her yellow pad.

"Are there fights among the Gods? If so, have there been any wars? What do you do in your free time?"

She was beginning to jumble the questions, hoping to get this done with as soon as possible.

"Not so many fights... there's a War, but he's a god."

Death seems to be back to his white-suited form now, and is grinning like usual.

"Free time? I don't have much, what with my work..." Oh, bullshit.

She continued to scribble down her answers, re-reading everything that she had written down. She had enough for a one-page article, and figured she was finished.

Nicki sat aside the notebook staring Death in the face. "Thank you very much, your services are no longer needed." She stood up, expecting the Deity to disappear.

The god raises his eyebrows, looking at her expectantly.

When no release is forthcoming, he says, "What? No release incantation?"

A rather surprised tone.

Nicki spun around in her Manolo Blahnik heels, her perfectly shaped brows rising in suprise.

"Release Incantation?" Her own voiced matched Death's suprise tone. She hadn't been given any 'release incantation.' Though she couldn't help but feel a great sense of dread coming over her.

He stands, leaning on the scythe that hadn't disappeared with the rest of his stereotypical outfit.

His white eyes watch her carefully.

"Yes. Release incantation. A containing circle wouldn't do much good if I could simply," he smiles, "Step out."

She placed her hands on her slim hips, biting her lip.

"So... are you syaing that I'm supposed to say something, or else you can't go?" She dreaded the answer, here eyes flipping to the printed-out fax that sat on her counter. It said nothing about releasing. Yay.

Yes, he knows the release incantation.

Yes, he's simply stepped out of this spell before, in defiance of all logic.

No, he's not going to tell her any of this.

"You mean you performed the Rite of Talmarath without knowing the release?" he exclaims.

"How was I supposed to know? I was sent the spell by my boss, It said nothing about a release incantation! Do you want to read it yourself?"

He was beginning to piss Nicki off, though that could have just been her red-haired temper. She had, though, grabbed the facsmile, and was holding it up, the detailed list of instructions there, though the release incantation was nowhere to be found.

"I suppose he didn't send you all the warnings that came with the spell. Well, what are you going to do now?" he enquires, frowning theatrically at her.

"Do you really want Death stuck in your dorm room for the rest of your life?"

For the rest of your life.

Which, considering who it is in the circle, doesn't have to be long.

"No I don't want... Death... stuck in my dorm room." She sighed, searching now for the phone... maybe Richard had forgot to send the rest of the email.

"What do you expect me to do? I mean... you should now the incantation, I'm sure you've heard it enough times. Either that, or you were lying about being summoned often."

Nicki didn't put it past him.

"Or maybe I can't speak the spell which has the ability to bind and unbind me," he suggests. "You never know."

The scythe dissolves into smoke and air, and Death leans forwards. For a moment, it seems like he's going to fall, and then-- the air catches him, holding him inside the circle and holding him up.

It might have been funny, had she not feared her life.

Dialing her boss' number, she turned to face the tiny kitchen, not knowing why she needed such privacy. Getting an answering machine, she mumbled something into the reciever, turning back around.

"Any ideas? Or are you going to leave me here on my own?" She figured he'd do the latter, being Death and all.

"Well," he says, considering...

"I do kind of want to get out of here..."

The white eyes slide across the room to rest on her.

The threat is inherent. For the rest of your life...

Sighing, she leaned down, banging her head on the counter. "Isn't there someone who can tell me what to say?"

She knew he had to know... he just had to...

Or not. She needed Death gone soon though, since she was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep with a God pitching tent in her living room.

"Oh, probably. Wouldn't it be easier just to let you die? That would break the spell."

Oh, so he decided to be obvious about it.

The god grins at her, still leaning on thin air.

Her head shot up, her eyes landing once again on the God. Would he really do that? Wait... he's Death. He kills people every day, of course he would.

It was late thought, and she was sure that nobody was awake. He'd just... have to wait until tomorrow.

"There's no time to find someone tonight. If I were to... say... go looking first thing int he morning, would you kill me?" She had to cover all her bases.

"Hmmn." He appears to be considering it.

"Well, I suppose not. You are, after all.." Wink. "What I look for in a human woman."

Nicki rolled her eyes. Nicki rolled her eyes to Death.

"Sleep tight." She waltzed out of the room, a grimace on her face. She could tell she wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, and would be up around daybreak looking for a way to get the God out of her dorm.

"Sleep? Death doesn't sleep..."

he continues muttering as she wanders off.

((Skip ahead?))

{Sure.}

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

Nicki's hand automatically shot up, her pale fingers landing on the sleep button of her alarm. She stumbled out of bed, her blue eyes landing on the red letters that screamed '5:30 AM.'

Slipping on a pair of red, fuzzy bedroom slippers, she walked towards the door, clad in a white tank-top and red silk bed pants. Her mind was blank of the events from the night before, not even bothering to brush through her hair. She stumbled from her room, her mind set on grabbing a poptart before hopping into the shower.

And, from the room containing the god:

"You awake now, Nicole?"

Of course he knows her name. Furthermore, of course he knows she's awake... sleep is, after all, under his umbrella.

From the back room came a crashing sound, and then a few curse words. The voice of Death came ringing through her dorm, and in a matter of a few seconds, she had remembered all of the events from the night before.

She came out soon, though, watching Death with an uncertainty. She still hadn't brushed her hair, and her eyes were slightly puffy. She said nothing as she reached for the tiny cabinets, her mind on food... and cappuccino.

He looks more or less exactly the same as he had last night, silver skull earring and all.

"You planning on releasing me anytime soon?" he asks, raising his eyebrows at her inquisitively.

"Uhm.. yeah. Soon... when I'm awake."

She grabbed the silver package, and began to munch on the cinnamon breakfast pastry, walking slowly to the back of her dorm. She had been blessed with rich parents, and so her small dorm was like a mini-apartment; bathroom and all.

So she disappeared into the small bathroom, the sound of rushing water soon heard throughout the dorm.

"Do you sing in the shower?" Death asks.

It's remarkable-- he isn't yelling, but his voice carries to her ears with no difficulty. Probably, it carries to her ears alone.

"I imagine I would if I had to take showers."

He begins to hum something which, on closer inspection, would turn out to be the classical piece 'danse macabre.'