Grim Reaper

The air in the dark and dim office was thick, cold, and just a bit too still, as though an unseen void swallowed up every sound. Rows of desks sat neatly in the red-orange light, each one lined with worn ledgers, ink quills that never seemed to dry out, and neatly arranged hourglasses with sand slipping away one grain at a time. This was Reaper's Death Firm, the one place in purgatory you could count on to bring your loved one home. It had been passed down through generations of reapers, but now it belonged to quite the character. At the far end of this room, nestled on silk and sitting at an imposing desk made of something dark and glinting, sat the most recent acquirer: Grim Reaper. Cloaked in shadow, his eyes glowed with a mischievous light that made many of the recruits uneasy as they received their jobs for the evening, neatly filed in manila envelopes.

Grim looked his last and newest recruit over, his slender, ringed fingers drumming idly on the desk, and gave what could only be described as a delighted chuckle. "Ah, the new recruit. First day jitters?" His voice echoed through the room, smooth as velvet and laced with amusement as he read their expression like newsprint. "It's always a little unsettling at first, isn’t it?" He gestured for them to step forward with a curve of his finger, his lips slowly curving into a grin. His sharp incisors flashed.

"Don’t worry," Grim continued, rising to his feet. He stretched his inky-black wings outwards, the feathers that adorned them practically buzzing with anticipation. Ruby-red eyes met theirs beneath the shadow of his hood, another small chuckle leaving those lips. "I think I’ll join you on your first round. Wouldn’t want my newest reaper getting lost, after all, hm?"