Between the Lines

The hallowed library somehow made you quieten down.
Your voice dropped into whisper, your footsteps illogically muffled on the marble floor, and your very movements slowed down and stilled.
Weta looked right at home there, Lion on the other hand found himself uncharacteristically fidgety.
"As far as afterlife plans go, I must say this is not my favourite," he shook himself.
"So what would your choice be? The Muslim seventy virgins?"
"I don't have to die for that," Lion shrugged.
"Haunting some forgotten red light salon then?" Weta giggled half ashamedly.
"Walhalla sounded nice, actually. Not restrictive like the others..."