[ All this time, he knew that it was there, within that little shop. It wasn't going anywhere so while he was unnerved that it was taken from him, he did not seek it out. It was safe. It was not in danger of being taken. The only ones who would even recognize it would know better than to try to take it too. And he could easily do his job without it of course. It was not absolutely imperative that he go to collect the scythe.
Not until now that is.
As the twinkling sound of the bell chimed when the door opened, a set of footsteps punctuated by the sharp tap of a cane could be heard soon after. The collar of his long black coat was turned up, a white scarf wrapped loosely around Death's neck. A gloved hand reached up to dust snow from his shoulders as his gaze roamed the interior of the pawn shop. His expression betrayed nothing of what was going through his mind. Merely the calm, blank look of an uninterested gentleman. ]
[ As impish and devious as Mr. Gold was, he always took care of the items in his shop. From Storybrooke, the Enchanted Forest, or other worlds, he made sure they were cared for and in the best condition he could manage. That included the scythe that had found it's way into his care. He had placed it on the wall, for all to see, that way it's proper owner could find it with ease.
Imagine the amusement that he had when a man in black with a white scarf walked into his shop. He could tell it belonged to him. There was a certain aura that came from the scythe that matched the stranger perfectly. That was one of the glorious things about having magic. ]
What you're looking for can be found there. [ He pointed to the wall with his index finger, his thumb pointing out, a rather impish smile on his face. ]
[ The slight arch of his let eyebrow was as close to a reaction as the shop owner would see from him. His gaze followed the direction he pointed at even though the Horseman knew the precise location of the object question already. He knew even before he stepped trough the door.
With neither a word or further sign of acknowledgment otherwise Death took the few strides necessary to bring him to the object in question. He knew the imp would be watching him but he cared little of this. His property was taken from him and was in the hands of another. Another living being that lacked the common sense to show resect when it called for it.
A gloved hand reached out, fingers curling carefully around the handle.
[ To be fair, Mr. Gold rarely showed respect to anyone. There was hardly a point in actually being offended by it. From Queens, to Kings, to other magical beings? Mr. Gold hardly cared about how he would offend them. There were a certain few, of course, but none of them were in the shop at that very moment.
He watched with mild interest. Once the stranger had the scythe in his grasp, Mr. Gold stood to his full height and gripped onto his cane. What was interesting about this exchange was the reaction the stranger had to his scythe. Oh, it was very obvious he was some archetype of a grim reaper. Even a child could see that. ]
[ There signs of obvious care as he lifted it from it's place on the wall, turning it over in his gloved his hands as he examined every inch of the weapon. It looked very old and worn as it always had due to countless usage. However, there was time taken in maintaining the blade and handle that he could tell just by studying it closely. At the very least it was good to see that one could show respect for another one's property.
Death, satisfied with the condition of his weapon as well as to having it back in his possession, slipped the handle of the aged weapon into the pocket of his coat. The curved blade was still visible, poking through the top of it, but it mattered little to the horseman.
Turning to Mr. Gold --no, Rumpelstiltskin-- he nodded his head just a fraction to the man --ah, correction, imp. ]
You have my thanks.
[ Because while so many seemed to lack proper etiquette, he knew how to make an example of such, while the moments for that were so rare and few for him. It was a little unnerving to be grateful to someone
( ... )
[ Now there was no need to play with semantics. Imp or man, Mr. Gold or Rumpelstiltskin, he was both. A man and the Dark One. No doubt that this stranger had already figured out who Mr. Gold truly was. Which meant there was no point in playing the game that he usually played. ]
Of course. [ He then made a gesture to the man himself. ] However, I can't just let you walk out with your item. I have a very strict set of rules concerning the items of my shop.
Of course. A payment is what you require, isn't it?
[ Cool. Calm. Collected. Uncaring. Little games such as this existed only to pass time. But the Horseman had little to no intention to play said game at this time. There was much, much more important matters for him to attend to. ]
Let us say you get to keep your life and we'll call it even.
[ It was a simple request. Or at least, to one who would not know better. One who did not understand the power of a name.
But his name was one that every living being knew. At most one could try to bind him to them, but te only ones that knew of this secret knew better than to try again. If they did, well, their lives would be forfeited before they could even dare to finish the first line of the spell.
The hand holding his hand drummed against the knob. ]
[ That impish grin spread over his face. Of course. Death. So simple and yet perfect. At least his world had given him the honors of naming him properly. Then, Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. ]
And you no doubt know my name. [ Despite the cane, he managed one of his rather extravagant bows. ] Now that introductions are in order, I believe you have some work to do with your tool.
[ Of course he knew the man's name. All of the troublesome living organisms had one. That didn't mean he always acknowledged them by it outside of 'amoeba' or 'monkey'. And he knew that he was one that found away to avoid a reaper in his world. He looked old, but the horseman knew he was older than he appeared.
Just not as old as Death himself though. A long ways off from that. ]
War makes for a busy business. [ Even without the entity here, in being, the ideals of wars and fights continued on. And with every battle came a body count. Given how this city worked the reapers that had followed him to this world were always on the clock. Ready to gather, collect, and sort. ]
[ All this time, he knew that it was there, within that little shop. It wasn't going anywhere so while he was unnerved that it was taken from him, he did not seek it out. It was safe. It was not in danger of being taken. The only ones who would even recognize it would know better than to try to take it too. And he could easily do his job without it of course. It was not absolutely imperative that he go to collect the scythe.
Not until now that is.
As the twinkling sound of the bell chimed when the door opened, a set of footsteps punctuated by the sharp tap of a cane could be heard soon after. The collar of his long black coat was turned up, a white scarf wrapped loosely around Death's neck. A gloved hand reached up to dust snow from his shoulders as his gaze roamed the interior of the pawn shop. His expression betrayed nothing of what was going through his mind. Merely the calm, blank look of an uninterested gentleman. ]
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Imagine the amusement that he had when a man in black with a white scarf walked into his shop. He could tell it belonged to him. There was a certain aura that came from the scythe that matched the stranger perfectly. That was one of the glorious things about having magic. ]
What you're looking for can be found there. [ He pointed to the wall with his index finger, his thumb pointing out, a rather impish smile on his face. ]
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With neither a word or further sign of acknowledgment otherwise Death took the few strides necessary to bring him to the object in question. He knew the imp would be watching him but he cared little of this. His property was taken from him and was in the hands of another. Another living being that lacked the common sense to show resect when it called for it.
A gloved hand reached out, fingers curling carefully around the handle.
It felt at home within his grasp. ]
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He watched with mild interest. Once the stranger had the scythe in his grasp, Mr. Gold stood to his full height and gripped onto his cane. What was interesting about this exchange was the reaction the stranger had to his scythe. Oh, it was very obvious he was some archetype of a grim reaper. Even a child could see that. ]
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Death, satisfied with the condition of his weapon as well as to having it back in his possession, slipped the handle of the aged weapon into the pocket of his coat. The curved blade was still visible, poking through the top of it, but it mattered little to the horseman.
Turning to Mr. Gold --no, Rumpelstiltskin-- he nodded his head just a fraction to the man --ah, correction, imp. ]
You have my thanks.
[ Because while so many seemed to lack proper etiquette, he knew how to make an example of such, while the moments for that were so rare and few for him. It was a little unnerving to be grateful to someone ( ... )
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Of course. [ He then made a gesture to the man himself. ] However, I can't just let you walk out with your item. I have a very strict set of rules concerning the items of my shop.
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[ Cool. Calm. Collected. Uncaring. Little games such as this existed only to pass time. But the Horseman had little to no intention to play said game at this time. There was much, much more important matters for him to attend to. ]
Let us say you get to keep your life and we'll call it even.
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[ Rumpelstiltskin steps around the display cases and walks up to him. He keeps his distance of course, hands on top of his cane with a smile. ]
Besides, given your nature? We both know it's not that easy to kill me. [ He holds up his finger. ] The only thing I want from you is your name.
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[ It was a simple request. Or at least, to one who would not know better. One who did not understand the power of a name.
But his name was one that every living being knew. At most one could try to bind him to them, but te only ones that knew of this secret knew better than to try again. If they did, well, their lives would be forfeited before they could even dare to finish the first line of the spell.
The hand holding his hand drummed against the knob. ]
Death.
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And you no doubt know my name. [ Despite the cane, he managed one of his rather extravagant bows. ] Now that introductions are in order, I believe you have some work to do with your tool.
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Just not as old as Death himself though. A long ways off from that. ]
War makes for a busy business. [ Even without the entity here, in being, the ideals of wars and fights continued on. And with every battle came a body count. Given how this city worked the reapers that had followed him to this world were always on the clock. Ready to gather, collect, and sort. ]
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[ With a snap of his fingers, the door opens. ] I wouldn't want to keep you from your reaping.
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