thedispatch | (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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[ Head on his shoulder, and a hand upon his chest, Grell shamelessly hums with content. ]

I suppose you are my weakness. [ Yet, she smiles as she peers up at him! ] Though, hearing that-- it's quite nice. I suppose I've always assumed that this was a distraction from the ineffable.

Edited 2020-12-14 01:00 (UTC)

If I recall correctly, our first night together I told you I didnt want you to be nothing more than a distraction.

[ It was so long ago, he's surprised he remembers it so clearly. ]

[ A hum, for she remembers it, too. ]

Yes, well. All considered, I thought that might have been how everything fell into place.