The glint in the corner became a glimmer, and began to emit a steadier light, until Charlie could no longer convince herself to ignore it. She closed her eyes and whispered, "Not right now, not yet, they're going to be here and I have to be ready for them, Not YOU, not yet—"
"Celeste."
The name shocked like cold water, forcing her to look up with a gasp. In spite of herself, she stared, open-mouthed and gaping eyes, at the encroaching creature who now stood before her. "Are you for real?"
It was a woman, more than a head taller than Charlie, dressed in slivery scale mail shot through with orange-gold tints. Over the armor hung what might be a cape embroidered with black feathers interwoven with runes and sigils along their spines. The woman's face was impassive, beautiful and stern, and Charlie could see, partially hidden by blond hair and beginning somewhere above the woman's ears, the metal tips of silver wings.
"I assure you, I am very real, Celeste."
"Sorry-yeah-but-but don't you think that-" she gestured with both hands at the woman's form, top to bottom and back up, "is a bit too much? I appreciate the Boris Vallejo of it all, but-." She took a breath, tried again. "But I know what you are. You don't need to impress me with the heavy metal cover outfit."
The other glanced down, surveying her cloak and mail. "This visage and garb I have not assumed in an eon or more. I believed you, of all my charges, might appreciate the gesture." A corner of the woman's mouth tipped upwards.
"I'm flattered—really—I just wasn't expecting my reaper to be so—dramatic. Don't you guys go for the suit and tie look, usually? Because I have to say, the chain mail babe thing—"
"I was called Valkyrie ."
"Valkyrie. Right. Of course." Charlie sighed, "Because I get the only reaper in the fleet with a twisted sense of humor. Please could you just—tone it down… a bit? "
"Celeste. We truly do not have time for this prattle."
"No offense, but I think I have all the time in the world. Truly."
The woman's cloak shifted, a flash of light ruffling the embroidered feathers, and for a second Charlie thought the garment itself might rise around the reaper and envelop them both.
A shot of panic went through her. Can't leave yet, she thought. They're coming. She flickered away from the reaper, finding herself at the edge of the broken hotel room door. Gods, how she wanted to travel through it, away from that bathroom, away from the ridiculous figure in front of her, away—
"Very well, if you must continue to play games."
"It's what I do."
The Valkyrie vanished, and Charlie lost herself in the air.