Disclaimer: I own nothing! It's all Tim Burton's! My imagination made me borrow these characters! It's not my fault! Well, okay it is, but they're not mine. Only my depiction of Azrael is mine.
Emily's POV
I was feeling bored one evening, so I decided to pay a visit to the Ball and Socket Pub to pass the time. I wondered briefly if Bonejangles had taken the bartending shift before the pub came into view. Inside was about twenty, no, thirty people; about average for an average night.
Now, normally I know everyone who's a regular at the club, but there was something off tonight. It took me a few moments to discover the reason for the oddness: there was a newcomer. She was sitting on a barstool, her legs crossed delicately, a long black dress covering her from neck to toe. She had long ebony hair which seemed unaffected by a trip to the afterlife. In fact, she was peculiarly whole-looking for being dead: no skeletal appendages, no half-rotted flesh or clothing. Without knowing it at the time, I sensed a kind of air about the woman that made it seem as if she was not, nor had she ever been human. I would not ascertain until later that my subconscious suspicion had indeed been correct.
She was conversing with Bonejangles, who had apparently taken his shift behind the bar, about some type of music of which I had never heard of before.
Outside POV
The woman in black had a smile on her face as she talked with the skeletal bartender. The smile never left her lovely features even as the conversation lasted well over twenty or so minutes.
"I'm telling you," she said, softly hitting the bar with her fist, "rap and hip-hop are going to be the biggest things in music in the next century. You just wait until Tupac Shakur and Eminem join you all down here. You never know, BJ; you just might like them."
Bonejangles shook his head, cleaning a shot glass. "I don't know, babe. From what you're tellin' me it just sounds like a bunch o' noise."
The woman chuckled and lifted her glass to her lips. "Just wait another hundred or so years and you might change your mind." She took a dainty sip of the purple liquid, not affected by it at all.
Emily quietly sat down on the barstool beside the woman in black, having overheard the last bit of the discussion. Bonejangles and the stranger turned their attention to her. "Hey, Em," BJ greeted as he normally did. "I'd like you to meet…" His attention was suddenly taken by the bar patrons' cries of "NEW ARRIVAL!" Not wanting to miss welcoming a newcomer, he looked back to the two women and said, "Gotta go!" and off he went.
Emily looked to the woman and extended her blue-flesh hand in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss. My name is Emily."
The woman took her hand and gently shook it twice; she was still smiling sweetly. "Nice to meet you, Emily. My name's Azra."
"Oh! That's a beautiful name!" she responded sincerely.
"Really?" Azra seemed doubtful of her claim. "I think Emily is much more beautiful."
Emily grinned with mild embarrassment. "Thank you." There was a moment of peaceful silence surrounding the two women as the noise of the welcoming party continued in the background. Emily was the one to break the silence. "Forgive me for eavesdropping but, what are 'rap and hip-hop'? I couldn't help overhearing you and Bonejangles a moment ago."
Azra's smile grew wider. "As of now, they are nothing of great importance." Emily detected a slight accent in the other's voice, but she could not place it. "Let's just say that rap and hip-hop will make the music BJ plays seem like lullabies for children." Azra took another sip of her purple drink before speaking again. "You poor child. To be murdered by your own fiancée on the eve of your wedding." There was sadness in her voice, but the statement caused a different reaction in Emily.
She was taken by surprise at the other woman's bluntness. "I beg your pardon?"
"I meant no offense by it. I just hate to have to take care of such matters. They're always so sad."
"What do you mean 'take care of such matters'?" Emily asked.
Azra's expression became one of calculation, planning how to answer without giving much about herself away. "I guess you could say that I'm a record–keeper of sorts. It's my responsibility to take note of such things and try to help the victims."
Emily was about to ask another question when Bonejangles returned to his post. He looked between the two women with an apparent smile on his emaciated face. "New guy's gettin' used to the place now," he said happily. Noticing Azra's near-empty glass, he asked, "Want me ta getcha another, Az?"
"Nah, BJ," she answered. "I have an appointment with a fisherman in Bangkok in a few minutes. I really can't put it off any longer." She stood from the barstool, her dress not moving with the action. "Can I have my things please, BJ?"
The bartender/musician reached beneath the bar top and pulled out a black cloak, which Azra put on immediately. She held out her hand as if expecting something else. "Why do ya need this thing, Az? You never really use it," BJ said as his bony hand went back under the bar.
Azra gave him an indignant look as she gestured to her apparel. "Because it completes the look. Now gimme."
BJ placed a long staff, which was adorned with a wickedly curved blade at the top, in her hand. She started toward the exit, but turned back when BJ shouted, "See ya next year, Azra?"
She smiled again as she answered, "Maybe." Her dark eyes turned to Emily once more. "It really was a pleasure meeting you, Emily. Perhaps we will see each other again soon." As she turned away, she raised the cloak's hood over her head and disappeared out the door.
Emily's POV
I knew the staff should have tipped me off, but at the time, as I watched Azra leave, all I could do was ask Bonejangles who she was. "She's the one who delivers everyone up there"-he pointed up-"down here"-he pointed down.
"Azra," I mumbled to myself. Out loud I asked, "Is that short for something?"
The last thing Bonejangles would tell me about the woman was her full name: Azrael. And thus ended my meeting with Death.
Outside POV
In Bangkok, a fisherman lay on his bed in his modest shack, his wife kneeling by his side trying to keep her voice steady as she recited prayers reminding his soul not to lose its way on its journey to Heaven. A coughing fit came over the fisherman, making his body shake painfully. As his eyes opened again, he saw a tall, hooded figure clad in black and holding a scythe standing at his bedside opposite his wife. Strangely, he felt no fear of this dark figure; he felt nothing. His body no longer ached with age and sickness. He felt no guilt at leaving the world behind, only peace and comfort.
The figure smiled down at him as its hand reached out to rest gently on his shoulder. He rose from the bed to stand beside the comforting form. It put a slender arm around his shoulders, guiding him away from his grieving wife and his bed, on which lay his discarded shell. He was no longer confined by it, finally feeling free.
Without regret, he and the dark figure walked silently to his afterlife.
AN: I know the part at the end about Bangkok was a bit random and out there, but when I wrote this I had just finished watching Anna and the King and it stuck with me. Beautiful film, by the way! Not as good as The King and I, but still good.
As for Azrael's behavior and speech, I actually borrowed pieces of my own personality and one of my best friend's and mixed them together in a blender to come up with Azra's dialogue. I'm especially proud of the "Gimme!" she does.
Anyway, let me go now before I bore even more people.
