Death's Pity
Count Olaf, or a very convincing copy, stood there right in front of the Baudelaires.
"Now, now…we all know that you shouldn't fear the Reaper…" the Copy Olaf said.
A crow suddenly alighted on his finger, staring up at him with its beady eyes.
"It knows…you know, It knows of a kindred spirit…" Said he.
The Baudelaires were as shocked as can be. Here they were, in the middle of the flat wasteland surrounding V.F.D. and they faced DEATH HIMSELF.
After a while, Klaus mustered up the courage to talk.
"Excuse me, sir…but you don't look like a specter with a scythe, or a specter for that matter…" said Klaus.
For the first time since his appearance, the figure before them smirked with disgust.
"Yes…I would've preferred that form, this one feels like a worm…like a disgusting, weak…worm" said Death.
"I don't understand…" murmured Violet.
"I do…" said Klaus.
Death smiled Count Olaf's twisted grin, and it greatly unsettled the Baudelaires…and unsettled here means "disturbed greatly by a Count Olaf claiming to be Death."
"You do? Well by all means, Klaus…Tell us."
Klaus drew in a deep breath, and began…
"Your form varies upon the perception of those you meet, whether it's a ghoul in a cloak, or a man with a long scythe…"
"Yes…It depends…" he murmured.
"Onto business then…" the man said with that twisted grin.
All of a sudden, the crow gave a loud, noisy caw.
"Hey! There it is!!!" said a voice.
No…the Baudelaires thought, a group of voices…
It seemed to be the entire village of V.F.D., giving chase to one bird.