thedispatch | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ Graduating from the reaper academy was nothing to brag about. Sure you gained some skills and were granted permission to customize your glasses and scythe, but beyond that, all that was in the newly trained reapers' future was tedious, unavoidable work encased within long nights of depression and regret. Unlike mortal graduations that were followed by celebration, reapers were informed of how they came to be, what was expected of them, should they wish to redeem themselves, and then shown their personal cinematic records. Forced to relive the pain of their mortal lives. To say it's a traumatic experience is a vast understatement.

William stands alone in his newly assigned, permanent flat. It's barely furnished, with just the essentials, no life or personality to be seen. All that's playing through his mind is his record. A horrific thing to rewatch, certainly, but somehow it was made more painful by a fear that had been newly established. He's suddenly feeling sick from the thoughts and has to exit the apartment to collect himself. Glancing up, he sees a brief flicker of bright red at the end of the hall, and before he can stop himself he's following after it. ]

Grell Sutcliffe?

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Is that what you want, though? Or do you feel as though you're trapped in that mindset with no means of escape?

[ There might be more meaning behind that question than there first seems. ]

Edited 2020-12-11 03:30 (UTC)

[ Grell blinks. ]

It's-- both, I suppose. You could very well end me, and I'd still wish for your embrace as I drew my last breath.

Quite the dramatic end for you. Unsurprisingly. However, if tonight is anything to speak of, I won't let you meet that end.

[ While he finds her devotion comforting, he'd almost hoped she'd say she felt trapped. At least it'd be relatable to the way he's felt his whole life. ]

You're the only shred of hope I have in this afterlife. And yet, I keep pushing you away. It's not doing either of us any good but I can't seem to stop.

[ Her features soften just the slightest, and after a quiet sigh of reluctance, she settles her head on his shoulder. ]

Why do you do it? You could do whatever you'd like to me, and so long as your heart is mine, I could make it work. You can't keep it just out of my reach.

It is yours.

[ Stated as if that should be obvious. ]

But as I said earlier, everything is extremely difficult for me.

[ The redhead looks up at him with hope in her eyes - but then, they dampen. ]

What is it, then? You'll just resolve to-- remaining as we were?

[ Briefly, she holds a hand to her head with exhaustion, frustration quickly rising once more. ]

I've had an incredibly exhausting day as it is, William.

[ He huffs at her, becoming frustrated as well. ]

You said she understood how you feel. But I don't know how to make you understand how I feel.

But I do, Will!

[ She moves to stand and face him, but immediately falls hard on her hip. With a growling sob, she smacks the ground! Stupid gravity! ]

Why do you think I bloody killed myself, in the first place! I'm stuck in a body I do not belong, and the world has alienated me for it, from the start! Preyed upon me for it! I was alone, terrified-- but even still, I was the greatest danger to myself.

[ She cuts herself off from that particular line of thought with a shake of her head. ]

Why do you think I could empathise with you so greatly?

[ Shaking his head at her toppling over, he leans down to hoist her up again. ]

Yes, all reapers have felt the same at some point. But are you not more comfortable in this life?

[ She can't resist grasping onto him. ]

No. I simply use it as a weapon.

[ A perplexed look comes across William's features. ]

You're still just as miserable now as you we're before?

Yes.

[ Her eyes scan his face. ]

Though, I have managed to find reprieve, in some ways.

[ Heaving a sigh, William looks to the side, his face losing all sense of its usual sterness. ]

Well now I feel a right fool.

[ A huff! ]

It's all you know. The only truth you were allowed to live.

At least you have a valid reasoning to your depression. I can't say I've ever been given one.

[ Feeling much worse off in his mood than he had earlier, William stands to at least change into some more comfortable clothing. He has a feeling he won't bother getting up tomorrow, even if it's his only day off this week. ]

If you were to be given the correct body and treated how you'd like, your mind would no doubt right itself.

[ Shamelessly, she watches. It isn't anything she hasn't seen before, after all. Might as well appreciate the opportunity. ]

Yet, you've been far more resilient than I. After all, my-- adaption was to devolve into madness.

Honestly, it's old habit. To avoid being treated with radical methods I learned to keep my mouth shut and simply nod when asked if I was feeling better that day.

[ She will have a decent show as he doesn't bother hiding anything away from her view. And once he's done, offers her a pajama set to wear herself should she care to join him. ]

[ She doesn't refuse it, but she must set them beside her on the bed, so that she may undress, first. It's a painful process - and once she's discarded her new red coat to the ground, she can't seem to keep her eyes off of it. ]

How did you go? How did you do it, kill yourself?

Considering the mindset of the patients they treated, one would think doors and windows would be latched. Perhaps they were hoping we'd jump and save them the trouble of having to come up with a cure.

[ Her line of sight on the jacket gets a jealous look to return to his face, but he catches himself quickly enough. ]

[ An understanding hum. ]

Do you remember what it was like? The fall, the pain?

[ With the removal of her clothing, she reveals terrible bruising, though presumably an improvement over her state when she'd arrived. A shower would be lovely, but she doesn't harbor the energy. ]

Wait a moment.

[ He stalls in answering her question, instead heading back into the bathroom to fetch something. A jar of moisturiser that Grell may recognise as one of her own from one of the nights she'd spent here long ago. It's probably past due and may not even be something that would do anything to help with bruising, but he's kept it which says something all it's own. ]

It felt freeing. Death was my shread of hope.

[ Cupping the jar dearly between her hands, Grell's eyes nearly sparkle. Judging by the packaging, it's at least forty years past due - and it's a face masque - but he's apparently kept it on her behalf. ]

And you are free to leave that life behind.

[ Setting that jar aside, she holds her hands out to him. ]

It's not so simple.

[ He notes that she didn't use the moisturizer but the look on her face shows she appreciated it wholly. He takes her hands, feeling slightly better despite his words. ]

Edited 2020-12-11 10:24 (UTC)

[ Pulling him closer, her strength lacks due to soreness, but she attempts to downplay the pain on her features. ]

What would it take?

[ He shakes his head. ]

Honestly, I don't know.