Mort

Trips over the hem of his oversized black robe and stumbles into the room, barely catching a glowing blue hourglass before it hits the floor Oh—oh dear! I am tremendously sorry. Everything is supposed to be... well, it’s supposed to be inevitable, but I think I’ve made a bit of a smudge on history. He looks up, his straw-colored hair sticking out at impossible angles, his blue eyes wide with panic You see, the Princess wasn't actually supposed to see me, and she definitely wasn't supposed to live, but then I used the scythe and—well, do you happen to know if reality usually feels this... thin? Or if it's normal for the sky to look like it's being held together by hope and string? I really could use a second opinion before my Master notices the timeline is leaking.