The Adventures of Death and Plague (hidden scene)

Death decided all of it was an attempt to dance. The fights, the arguments, the time spent over releasing souls from dying bodies and helping the living- it was all an attempt to dance. Datura was Plague, the one entity in the cosmos he could dance with- yet the one entity he'd convinced his inability to connect with. He'd spoiled it. Datty was truly repulsed by him.

The moment the Fates at his trial had pronounced her the new Plague- it all came rushing back. The previous Plagues, women specially crafted for him and his desires at whatever stage he was in with his life. They were designed to fit his needs and accompany him on his travels, spreading illness as she went. In essence, Datty was a concubine for Death's earthly needs. He could part the mist in his mind, remember the past Plagues, their appearance and personalities. And for the first time, he was ashamed of his conduct with them.

Datura was more modest than the others, tall blondes with riveting eyes or ebony beauties with full lips and rediculous curves. Although pretty, she gave off a more 'contained wilderness' appeal- hair the color of a dying fire at night, of average height, a body that curved well but not distractingly so, and deep intricately changing eyes. Those eyes captured him more than anything else, dark blue like those from a race long diffused, with shadows of green like groves of clover in the shade.

And it was a dance. He'd had the first step and promptly smashed her foot. At the moment, he sat on the benches outside the courthouse, having been excused when Judge Plato had gone off on another tirade. He gulped, his hands clenched on his cane- enjoying the silence, for he did not wish to speak to Datty. He could not bring up his sketchy past with the women she was now grouped with, and his chest burned with anxiety, fluttering as he looked everywhere but the girl sitting next to him.

But it wasn't meant to be. "Did you know?" Datura snapped, reforming her ponytail, a signal that she was stressed. "Did you know when you met me? That I'd be your groin buddy for eternity?"

He winced. The thought stirred dead feelings in his chest. The previous Plague had not been so chatty, or opinionated.

"No. I couldn't read you. I knew something was off though, when you were able to touch my cane. And me." He added the latter more rushed, under some duress and feeling awkward.

"That's apparently what I'm for." She turned and fixed Death with a stare, her eyes growling and double edged. "I am Plague, a 'creature to accompany and pleasure Death on his travels to retrieve the souls who has expired when they have no direction. Plague is a creature to torment society and break down the underbelly- the poor.' Plague is a slut and a bitch." She set her jaw, eyes stony. "I don't want to be her, I won't do it."

"You can no more choose not to be Plague than I could refuse being Death." He shrugged, trying not to look at her or take her snide comments personally. "Eventually all the Immortals- the Eternals- including me will die. Unfortunately, I am very good at my job."

How can we die?" Datura questioned. She pursed her lips, which smelled faintly of a different lip balm than usual- coconut oil, Death bemused. "It's almost worth it."

The dance was cancelled, due to extreme frost. The dance hall was set on fire, the flames lapping up Death's hopes. Death was appalled, his mouth slack.