fandomhigh | Philosophy of Loss, Friday, 2nd Period

The students who made it to class today would have a novel experience indeed. Death -- and today she was Death, no Didi about it -- had lost her usual air of calm good cheer, and instead looked perturbed and vaguely sullen.

Her father had told her to expect a visit. Her father never visited.

"Hi," she said, slouching into a bean bag chair. "I know you're probably eager to either see or avoid your guests, so I'm hoping class won't be too stressful. We're talking about Ghanaian fantasy coffins. Carpenters in and around Accra make specialized coffins carved to look like cars, fish, lions -- anything you can imagine. Usually the specific shape of a coffin reflects the deceased's job or social position. The reason they go to the trouble comes from the Ga tribe's religious beliefs. They believe death is not the end. And because ancestors can influence our lives from their afterlife, you buy them a nice coffin so they'll be in a good mood and help you out."

She spread out her hands, palms up. "That's the religious explanation, anyhow. Some people are more pragmatic and will tell you it's more about honoring the departed and showing respect for their memory. Whatever the reasoning is, you can't deny they make some gorgeous coffins."

Something caught her eye there, a flash of red hair and flowing beard in the back of the classroom; she blinked it away.

"Anyhow, what I'd like for you to do today is design a coffin. It can be for whoever you want -- yourself, someone you lost, a historic figure, a fictional character. You have half an hour to sketch, and then I'd like to talk about your designs. Let me or Kathy ~~assuming she's here~~ know if you have questions."

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A man stood in a back corner of the classroom. You might see him out of the corner of your eye, though he had a disturbing habit of vanishing if looked at full-on, and didn't seem to look the same from one second to the next anyhow. Time didn't see the point of maintaining a consistent presentation; he aged and became younger at his whims.

Mostly, though, he was large and redheaded, and did not seem particularly impressed by what his daughter was doing here. He stood with his arms folded, waiting for her to finish talking.

"You visited," Death said, once the students seemed quietly occupied. "You never visit."

"Just because it hasn't happened doesn't mean I can't," Time said easily. "I was curious, so I came. Not happy to see me?"

"It's a surprise," Death said, diplomatically. "I can't remember the last time we saw each other.And now you're in my classroom, and --"

She faltered, stretched her arms out. "Hug?"

"... really?" Time asked, in some distaste, but gingerly took his eldest daughter into his arms and patted her back. "How very ...human ...of you."

Human was not a compliment.

Edited 2015-10-03 01:35 (UTC)

"When in Rome," Death said philosophically, and shrugged. "Anyhow, you're on my turf. I say I hug my dad."

"You always were too enamored of them," Time grumped, pulling out of the hug as soon as he decently could. "Well. What are you doing here, anyhow? The baby explained it, but I never can make heads or tales of anything she says."

"We're still calling Del the baby?" Death repeated in disbelief. "Anyhow, it's a long story. This is a good place, though. I like being here. You might like it too."

"Ask your mother. The youngest is always the baby. Anyhow, I can't gt used to her new name," Time said. (The 'new name' was several millennia older than life on Earth.) "And I left my realm for this, so I would certainly hope it's worth the trip."

Death smiled. It was a tight smile. "I'll do my best."

Philosophy of Loss, Friday, 2nd Period

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]

Re: Talk to Death [10/02]