The next afterlife

[dead_serious]

[ In hindsight, it was obvious. Reapers worked tirelessly, for centuries, trying to reach that one final goal - to be forgiven. For most, the feat of learning the value of life was impossible. The depression that lingered with them after they took their own lives was only compounded by their roles as death gods. So many joyous lives cut short, the lucky mortal's record almost mocking the unfortunate reapers as they watched the panels flip past their eyes. Most would forget they even had a chance to be forgiven, drowning in the enteral job set before them.

But, on rare occurrences, a reaper would find themselves before a jury, summoned away from their desks overflowing with paperwork on scheduled deaths. That is where William stands now. And perhaps even more surprising, is the other who stands beside him - Grell Sutcliffe. William had hardly believed himself capable of forgiveness, but the redhead...she'd looked at the mortal realm and laughed, hardly caring (and often finding it amusing) if she was the listed cause of death for some of those unfortunate people. How she is here, as well, is beyond him.

The committee has decided the both of you have come to an understanding on how valuable life truly is.

The woman at the centre of the row of judges addresses them both. William's brow creases, but he refrains from asking the obvious question of why, lest he ruin their chances at eternal peace.

Now that that matter is dealt with, we will move on to assessing your sins as a mortal.

William's expression quickly shifts to honest surprise, his eyes widening and blinking in confusion. The term 'forgiven' had been a misnomer since the beginning. How had he been so naive to think all their wrong doings while they'd been alive would be waved off as if they'd meant nothing? Swallowing heavily, he gives a brief side glance to Grell. For the first time, in this afterlife, he is scared. ]

Comments

[untodeath]

[ Grell is much less subtle in her confusion; her upturned brows are deeply furrowed, upper lip plucked to reveal some of those saw-like teeth. Surely, she must be misunderstanding them, in some way. ] 

Wh— what?!

[ She immediately whips her head to look William’s way. Witnessing the fear in his eyes make her own widen, the gravity of the situation weighing her heart down into her stomach.

Unfortunately, that makes her act out all the more; suspended, upturned palms turn into fists. ] 

Surely, you must be joking! Why—

[ SILENCE! 

The sudden booming voice echos throughout the chamber, making Grell flinch back. 

You, Grell Sutcliffe, have accumulated a record of grievances so long, that we would be addressing them well into the next decade. 

To demonstrate, the head of council picks up the redheaded reaper’s packet, and its density rivals a bible. She slams it down on the podium, and proceeds to read the first page. 

Grell Sutcliffe: Born to Nathanael Lambourne and Grace Sutcliffe. Greater London, of London, England. March 21, 1772. Deceased: May 11, 1779. Beachy Head of East Sussex, England. Death by suicide, footnote reads as drowning... 

A pause, as she leans back in her chair and points to a large, blank screen hanging on the wall behind the jury.

I will ask you to direct your attention overhead. 

As the lights dim, the nostalgic sound of a movie projector whirs to life. Immediately, the color drains from Grell’s face. In front of this entire panel - and William - she’ll be forced to watch her cinematic record... ]