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Purgatory was a strange place; so sorrowful and melancholic it was. And in it's own way, it was like a living being, constantly changing and evolving. Colors were a thing nonexistent in Purgatory, as everything was illuminated in bright shades of white. Shades likely unable to be discerned by the human eye.The sharp darkness of what humans called "Purgatory" directly contrasted the vibrant liveliness of the human world and it brought the slightest sense of yearning to even the sternest of Reapers. A faint sense of melancholy that resonated to their debatably human origins.
Hal was not exempt from this plaguing feeling of melancholy, more often times than not yearning to be back at the human world. To drown himself in the effervescent noises and dynamic colors. It called to him like a siren did to a sailor, slowly luring him to his own demise.
Perhaps it was the issue of being formless, or maybe it was the dilemma of lacking a human chassis, however Hal never really ventured into the human world.
The shadowy walls of the Purgatory wrapped around him and chained him down. It whispered of punishments that had to be carried out, threats that remained unspoken. No Reaper was to leave the Purgatory. Not unless it was to do their job and collect souls. Perhaps that was why most Reapers seemed so sinister. So eager to end human life, if it allowed them to get just one more glance of the intoxicating world the humans lived in.
---
His first assignment was a vibrant girl intoxicated on the riches of life.
Everything about her was purple. A soft lavender shade that whispered of mystery and warmth. She spoke with a hazy smile and slurred lines, her head always so far up in the clouds. The simplest things in life were, often times, the ones so horridly misunderstood. Speaking tones swathed in gentle lilacs, she taught him compassion and incessant respect for the human race. Eyes so full of wonder, she saw things that no one else could see. Defining qualities that redeemed even the most reprehensible of men. Yet at night she would whittle away, dancing in spirits that eased her aching soul. Singing of her sorrows and lamenting her losses. So fragile she was, crushed under the expectant gazes of the ones she held so dearly to her heart.
Until one day the porcelain armor she'd encased around herself shattered and she drowned. Drowned in her inability to take action. Drowned in bitter sweet toxins she drank every night in placement of the comfort she'd never received. Plunged straight into the sweet abyss of death, washed over by the malevolent tides of disillusioned reality.
It was something about the human nature that made people so entranced by the promise of death. The imminent end to the game that no one asked to be part of. But perhaps, Hal noted, that was the appeal of such games. To take the adversities obstructing one's way and craft it into something beautiful. Into something capable of deluding one's reality; something adept enough to paint falsified scenes of comfort.
He reached for her through hazy veils of white, pulling her up and out of danger. She greeted him like an old friend and filled the air with that beautiful mauve laugh of hers. A violent seizure of sorrow filled him as he guided her, sorry that her end had come so soon. Head shaking and eyes bright, she told him to rest as ease and left in a shower of melancholic purple.
---
The second assignment he received was colored in the dark verdure of the forest life.
He was brash, loud. Both ignorant and oblivious. He saw the world through narrow lenses and preached words of ineffectual value. He taught Hal the meaning of anger and frustration. Challenged him of his sentience and pushed him to alienation. Green was the color of this boy. As green as the envy Hal felt when he saw the boy. A blistering green that crept up to him and strangled him in cycles of self loathing.
Green as the color of Spring bringing refreshing new beginnings.
He showed Hal a whole new way of looking at humanity, dripping with naivety and incompetence. Many days were spent racing through foliage and pushing the limits of life. His blundering steps chanced lucky, clearing a path only suitable for him to take. Sheltered. That's what the boy who spoke in hues of green was. Sheltered, Hal noted, but incredibly lucky. Lucky enough to evade the harsh realities of life. He took illusions and dreams to a whole new level, painting the cruel world in dazzling shades of viridian and chartreuse.
But even the best of men were destined to met the end of their path. Clumsy feet struck wrong and the boy fell. He crashed into the sharp realities of the world and impaled himself on the brutal sword of society. And the world did not treat this boy kindly. It pounced like a starving cat seeing meat for the first time in eons, tearing him apart. It ripped him to shreds until all that was left was a shattered and whimpering mess. Lady Luck turned upon this boy and no longer was he bestowed with the extraordinary gift of oblivion.
Hal regarded him with a sick satisfaction, reeling him out of his world of delusions and slamming him into reality. He begged for mercy, his words melting into horrendous puddles of malachite. But mercy eluded him like an omen. He'd destroyed Hal's views on humanity, and in turn he would destroy him. Break him into pieces until even the judges would be rendered unable to make sense of him.
He sent the green boy off with hissed warnings and bared fangs. He did not regret his death in the slightest.
---
Refreshing blue was the hue that washed over the third assignment.
She was far from perfect, but she tried her best to compete with the ever changing demands of the world. The words that fell from her lips were as blue as the sky, so filled with hope and confidence. Her life was sweet and filled with amusements. She rebuilt his opinion of the human nature and taught him methods of amusement to carry himself with through the world of cruel commentators.
Like all humans, she was subject to greed. Greed, he'd note, or perhaps indignation. Festering in her was the undeniable lust to wander. To soar free in the vast oceans of the world.
Eager she was, but logical she remained. And that, to some degree, was the trait he found most admirable in her.
The life of an heiress was not one easily to adapt to. Luckily for her, she was well adapted to the necessities the world demanded. She was blue, the color of royalty. The color of remorse. And like all royalty, there were remorseful measures taken to ensure that her safety was well kept. The man parading as her paternal figure did a relatively decent job of protecting her. Hal could tell that the parental unit that cared for her held a special place in her cerulean heart. That, perhaps, was the strong bond of family.
Yet, even in his best efforts, the male could not prevent her from meeting her demise.
There was something about human life that fascinated Hal. It was so short, yet in such limited time it made so many things occur. The fear of death was prominent in the most of humans, yet some pushed beyond unease to achieve things of greater value. Humans were so fragile, so easy to break. But they were, invariably, stubborn and they refused to go down without a fight.
It was a solemn morning when the hounds were released upon the lovely girl of blue. Harsh critiques slashed her. Words balled into fists collided with her alert eyes. But she fought. She fought with all her heart and all her faith, defending her beliefs. Battles cries tinted in azure hues echoed into the crisp morning air. Defiant roars and brash decisions made on the whim. It was a battle that stretched out long into weeks.
Until, alas, her faint cries were smothered by the heavy chains of society.
Hal came to her reverently, head dipped in a solemn gesture as he helped her up. Her eyes were so filled with regret and acquiescence, brimming with unfinished promises. Quiet were her laments as he led her away. She took comfort in the unsolicited company he provided until, finally, she ascended to her throne and bid him farewell.
---
His last assignment was his demise.
He was beautiful. A bold, daring streak of amber that defied the standards of society. A dash of tangerine in an otherwise bland world of grey. Everything about him was shrouded in mystery and ambiguity. Pretty lies wrapped around dark truths. His eyes were filled with amber griefs and stubborn independence. He breathed life into the the most mechanical of things, both figuratively and literally speaking. Words that left his mouth were scarce. Hal found himself addicted to the sunset hues of his voice that graced him with inane commentary.
With him, Hal found, everything took an exciting new turn. And for the briefest of moments, he could have claimed that he was infatuated with the living contradiction of a human.
Unwittingly, he taught him the meaning of love. The extreme fondness for a mere human that made him linger in his home. Exchanged barrages of witty comments that filled Hal with the briefest feelings of life. He was intoxicated on his sharp orange rebukes, always seeking for more. To drown in the vibrant tendencies of the orange boy.
He burnt himself out prolonging the life of the boy. He defied the forces that sought to end his lovers life. An easy wave of the hand and it brought him back to full health. In some aspect, Hal was clinging desperately to him. Unwilling to lose him to the definite confines of death.
It was easy for the beautiful boy to take him for granted. He'd grown use to the instructive tone of Hal that kept him away from danger. Yet, unbeknownst to him, the consequences were beginning to take a toll. The Purgatory, in all it's righteous fury, demanded the soul of the boy. It seethed and writhed, reaching ethereal hand out to try and grasp the boy Hal had been so furiously protecting.
All good things had to come to an end.
Punishment for delaying the boy's end was quick to find him. And the boy, the foolish foolish boy that chained himself down with self loathing welcomed death with open arms. He plunged head first into the intricate traps of the Purgatory. There was no hesitation as he did. The sweet siren call of death beckoned him to his demise. Like he did to Hal. It was selfish of him to try to save the boy who so obviously wished to die.
---
In his misgivings, the Purgatory enlisted his punishment. It wrapped it's shadowy arms around him and choked him. Threw him down until he shattered in more way than one. Tormented him with black lies and burning words.
Reapers were not built to feel emotions. They were not built to love. Reapers were beings doomed to eternal suffering, never to taste the warmth of the human world. Hal knew this, and yet he still fell. He fell into colors of blue and green. Into hues of purple and orange. He drowned in the vivacious stream of human life, until he, himself, became too human.
The Purgatory was a strange place; so sorrowful and melancholic it was. And in it's own way, it was like a living being, constantly changing and evolving. It lashed out in anger, taking and creating life.
Hal was not exempt from the fury of the Purgatory. As it tore into him and ripped him into disintegrating pieces, Hal breathed hues of blood red into the air. He touched the dismal walls of white with splashes of red, painting the first echoes of color into the Purgatory. A violent, streaking red that demanded attention.
Red, the color of the blood from the humans he'd killed.
Red, the color of strength and joy.
Red, the color of fury and indignation.
Red, the color of determination and courage.
Red, the color of passionate love and lust.
Red, the color of freedom and death.