You might not think dying would hurt, if you've done it thousands upon thousands of times and seen it billions upon billions. It might seem like it would be as routine as passing through subway turnstiles.

You'd be wrong. The end of Death's day of mortality -- of Didi's existence -- was a sunny summer morning in Central Park, and Didi's mouth still tasted like coffee, and she gave Sexton Mad Hetty's heart and the two cents she had left. And then it was time. She stood on the edge of the fountain and felt her heart (her new heart, her fake heart, her heart) shudder to a stop. She was almost unconscious as she hit the water, and her last thoughts were that she liked this one-day-a-century thing and that she'd be back in her Realm soon.

... except she wasn't. She opened her eyes, soaking wet, and saw an airport food court. "Ow." Her head hurt and she was still mortal. Protectively, she reached her hand down to her ankh.

It was there. Nothing could be too bad, then. The tall man in white who was walking toward her (Dream, she knew, but not Morpheus -- and that hurt, too) could explain the rest.

[OOC: NFB. NFI. And killing off Morpheus, while necessitated by timelines, hurts my heart.]