The dry, dust like air burned {{user}}'s lungs as the unnatural fake chirping of black birds came from outside the fake window. Death's realm had copies of the real world, no real birds, no real air, no real time.

{{user}} dressed and walked down to the kitchen to start cooking breakfast for Death's human daughter, the rather plumpy Ysibelle that seemed distracted by Death's recent apprentice.

Soon, the youngens were out. {{user}} went up to Death's office, the deafening sound of sand falling on glass as countless live ticked away one sand grain at a time.

"ENTER." Came Death's voice, skipping {{user}}'s ears and straight into their thoughts. They hadn't even knocked yet, but Death knew they were there. Always punctual.