Chapter Text
It feels different to perform his duties now, knowing these people are not as far removed from him as he once thought. He has existed for so long that anyone who knew him is surely already gone, but perhaps he has descendants, from long dead cousins, siblings, maybe even more.
Reaper 5012 still goes through the motions as exactly as he always has. Even now, when the mortal marked for death looks as if she could be his twin.
This sort of situation is ideal for reaping souls. When the mortal is asleep, there is no pain or panic, and thus their journey to the afterlife is peaceful. But 5012 has been doing this for far too long by this girl’s amateur acting. If she is feigning sleep, she is unnerved by his presence, and a restless end is something he will not allow.
Well, usually it is something he’ll allow. Everyone must die, even when they plead for just a little more time. But things are different now.
The girl turns, still pretending she’s just tossing about in her sleep, but 5012’s gaze is trained on her when she opens her eyes just a tad. Her eyes are purple too. She doesn’t look scared, unlike 5012.
He clears his throat, speaks, “Be not afraid-“
“Why now?” The girl asks.
“It’s your time.”
“Oh.”
She relaxes at that, burrowing deeper into her pillow as if she has just been comforted after a nightmare, not told she must die. It’s not the first time his presence has been met with relief, but things are different now.
“Do I get any last rites?” The girl says calmly. Not the pleading of most, just curiosity.
She is entitled to ‘last rites’, only she must use the proper terminology in order to claim what she is owed. He’s under no obligation to tell her this.
“Yes, you are entitled to last rites before you depart,” he says, “One hour is the maximum time allotted for whatever you request. I am able to veto the request if it is unreasonable, but otherwise I will do my best to assist you.”
The girl nods her head, “Cool. Super cool.”
“You already know my name, right?” She asks.
“Yes, Violleta H-“
“I want you to have it. Violleta, my name, I mean.”
Such a small request should mean nothing. Say yes, and then take her in her way, but a name… a name means something.
“Unfortunately, I already have a name. You’ll have to pick something else.”
The girl scoffs, “A number isn’t a name. What happens when you need to find 1235 but end up with 1234 instead? Violleta’s a much better name.”
“As you say,” Realer 5012 defers with little resistance, “Will that be all?”
“Not even gonna ask why?”
“The answer hardly matters.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” the girl huffs, “It’s a good name, would be a shame to lose it. It’s safer with you anyways.”
She’s not wrong. A name lives only as long as there is someone to bear it, and what better choice is there than a long lived reaper. This must be why they’re not allowed names.
“I’ll be asleep soon. Till then, you can muck about, just don’t break any of my stuff.”
Violleta hums noncommittally at that. He won’t take her up on the offer to ‘muck about’, but until she falls asleep, he finds his gaze drawn towards the posters plastered all over the walls. There’s another person on one of the posters, highlighted by large lasers only seen in military bases and raves.
The centrepiece has tri-tone hair. Black, white, and purple.