the woman.

[untodeath]

[ She had always said that she was going to do it, but it took Grelle Sutcliffe just about two-hundred and fifty years to make good upon that oath.

The process was as complicated as they come, but everything simply had to be perfect. Genuine as one could get, with some cosmetic enhancements to round everything out— more literally than one might think.

It was said that scientific advancements in the spiritual realm preceded those in the physical by roughly seventy-five years, and despite how little she claims to know of it, the reaper followed it all quite closely. Genetic engineering had advanced so much that one could have organs - or entire limbs - lab-grown for replacement. It then became possible to alter the cellular makeup or such appendages, for aesthetic purposes, or even, their sex. Finally, sexual organ transplants were possible.

Equipped, as it were, Grelle also wished to soften her facial features and give her body the proper curves to rebalance her naturally masculine frame. Having it all done at once was the most excruciating thing she’s had to endure this far, but it was necessary, with how stingy management is at granting leave!

That said, she’s returned to office, though it won’t be until the end of the week that her medical release approves her return to field work.

But, first thing’s first; she must report to her supervisor. ]

How I’ve missed you❣️

[ Despite being out for nearly a month with very little contact, and an entirely new physique, the redheaded reaper has burst into his office as though nothing were out of the ordinary! ]

Comments

[dead_serious]

[ And yet, she'll be walking into an empty office! Though, it's obvious by the amount of files on his desk that William is on the clock today, he's not currently at his desk. And with the only other staple of the room, his coffee mug, missing as well, it's a safe bet on where he might be.

Was taking this precise moment to refill his mug, his attempt to further prolong the reunion with Grelle? Perhaps. But he hasn't admitted that to himself, nor will he ever, if his stubbornness has anything to say about it. This entire ordeal has put him in a sour mood since Grelle first turned in her request for leave. The matter was beyond that of a simple day off, so he had no say in its approval. And something about that seemed to bother him, though, for the death of him, he couldn't seem to figure out just what it was. Which just seemed to prolong the bad mood through the entirety of her absence.

Today, though, is the first day in a month that there's been a scheduled shift printed under her name. Seeing it there has had William subconsciously tapping his foot beneath his desk for the past few hours. And now that motion has transferred to the rhythmic drumming of his thumb against the rim of his mug while the coffee percolator softly hums. This may be the first time he's ever found himself feeling nervous. ]