[The room of Lifetimers. The incessant spill of sands are ever a thundering rush, as though the place were located beneath a massive waterfall.
His footsteps echo dully along the metal grating that makes up the floor, stalking between the shelves and shelves, rows upon rows of hourglasses.
Death pauses, lifting his head to a sound only he seems to hear, the noise like the subtle tension of a string on an instrument about to break. Those brilliant blue points set deep within the fathomless shadows of his skull flicker, and he turns to look along the shelves, staring hard at one in particular.
It's a brief spark, a flicker of violet that seems to explode within the sands, lines of heliotrope crackling through the grains before the light recedes as though it had never happened in the first place.
Blue eyes flare, then dull fractionally in their usual radiance. For a time, he stands and continues to eye the lifetimer almost distrustfully, a bony hand reaching out as a digit runs over the name engraved on its edge.]
...OH DEAR.
((OOC: Not transmitted on network. Response to
this.))