thedispatch | The next afterlife

[ 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. ]

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Stand. And put your arms behind your back.

[ As he says so, the first of their customers walk into the room. A couple, it seems, as they sit beside one another, eyeing the reapers with intrigue. One whispers to the other, pointing to what William can only assume is the marking on their backs.

He ignores the two after that, seeing as he has a task to tend to. And who would William T. Spears be if he didn't take his job seriously? Though, it occurs to him as he uncoils the rope, that he has zero experience with binding someone up. It causes him to pause, shifting the rope between his hand, trying to mentally work it out before he starts and makes a mess of things. He only realizes how long he's been dwelling on it when an impatient "Get on with it, eh!" is heard from the audience.

William looks up, not pleased in the slightest at being heckled. Leaving Grell to linger there beside the bed, he walks to the edge of the stage and tosses the rope at the new voyeur's feet.]

Sutcliff. [ He address her without taking his cold glare off the man. ] Get over here. This man will be tying you up for me, since he can't seem to wait a bleedin' moment longer.

[ Doing as she is told, the ex-reaper is nibbling at her lip with anticipation once more. Yes, she catches sight of their onlookers, but the superb actress that she is, she pays the audience no mind.

Except, things begin to drag along. There’s quite a bit of fumbling and tugging; clearly, he’s having some trouble. Her expression slacks with a huff, prompting her to glance over her shoulder.

And then, that. ]

What— are you serious? [ Incredulously, she closes the distance between herself and the spectator, a hand planted firmly on her hip, eyes scanning over the man. She gets uncomfortably close, a wry sneer baring her teeth. ] This nothing?

[ Not giving Grell a moment longer to snarl at the man, he forces her down to her knees. ]

Arms behind you. Do not make me repeat myself again.

[ That last command isn't just directed towards Grell, of course. The man looks back to the others in the room, almost as if he needs their permission to get physically involved in the show. I thought we weren't supposed to... William cuts him off. ]

I am the one directing this show. Not any of them. So, if you would like to see an ex-reaper bound and spanked, I suggest you get on with it. Honestly.

[ The perverted little imp seems rather eager now. Perhaps at William's forcefulness, perhaps that he gets to take part rather than just watching. Either way, Grell will feel the rope sliding against her skin.
Starting at the wrists, the rope braids her arms together, nice and snug. What's left of the cording circles under her arms before looping around her neck to create a snug collar and leash.

Impressed with the man's work (and fully committing how it was done to his memory) William dismisses him and rounds back to brush Grell's hair from her face. ]

And you called me jealous earlier. Honestly, I believe I rather like watching another man restrain you.

[ Grell hisses between her teeth when her knees hit the stage. But, oddly enough, that pacifies her! With a tick of her tongue, she averts her eyes, but relents. She stubbornly resists smiling at William’s commanding and oddly specific instructions, but ultimately fails.

By the time he rounds back, she’s already gazing up at him lovingly. Lashes fluttering at his touch, she nuzzles into his palm just so. ]

Is that right? Do I mean that little to you~? [ It's playfully asked, as she knows that he must realize how utterly obsessed she is with him. Simply, no one could ever match up. ]

Right now, you are nothing more than a mere toy.

[ He pulls his hand from her face, in favor of grasping her new leash. A sharp yank is his silent order to follow him towards the center of the stage. A provided chair is pulled forward and William points for her to perch upon it. ]

[ The redhead's heated sigh is cut short, as her body is jerked forward. While getting up, her tongue dashes between her lips. ]

By all means, play to your heart's content.

[ And perch she does. Somehow, she can't guess what he'll do next! And to think, William considers himself boring. ]

[ The chair, being more of a bar stool, is spun to showcase every angle of her to their audience. Once he's finished showing off his plaything, a firm slap will be felt against her ass. No longer having his black leather gloves, instead a grazing of his new talons will be felt afterwards.

A few more audience members arrive as the show starts, and with that first slap sounding so inviting, they're quick to take a seat! ]

The next afterlife

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