[Memory] Someday soon
WHO: Grell Sutcliffe/Juliet, (esoteric_rose)
SENSES: Sight/Sound/Touch
SUMMARY: The last conversation before being put away.
PERMISSIONS: Negotiable.
White. White is the first color. The sound of soft footsteps trickles in his ear. He is in white. No chains, though his hands feel heavy enough.
Raising his head he looks to the side to see his companion. Dark-suited, pale, dark hair, striking green eyes and glasses...he knows this person. Still, fear keeps his mouth shut. The trial was brief, he was guilty, guilty, guilty. No denying it.
They turn a corner, walking down a hall. Cold, stone makes cold places. Then the man beside him begins to speak, and he knows why this man is familiar. "It's not as bad as it could be. You'll be here until they've decided it's enough, then you'll return. You're not going to die. You're not being demoted. Even if you are a criminal, we can't lose Officers."
I know that. I heard the judge. I know I'm a criminal. He stays silent, though.
"You will not be transferred out of London. In all, a mild punishment given your actions."
Like a slap on the wrist in their eyes, but I hate being alone for so long.
The man stops. "Grell Sutcliffe. Are you hearing a word of what I'm saying?"
"Yes, William."
William pushes up his glasses and resumes the walk. "At least you had the sense of mind to confess. That helped." They continue in silence until they reach the cell. There, William stops and begins to unlock the door.
"Why, William?" Grell's voice is soft, apprehensive. "Why did you ask to escort me?"
The dark haired reaper pauses. "It is my duty to oversee my subordinates."
Oh. With a sinking feeling he waits, and moves to step in the cell. Tears are flirting with him, but he can't cry yet. "Wait." He obeys William's words, turning to him. "This is yours." A brown leatherbound book, and he opens it to find the title and his name written in a corner. "...Shakespeare's works, William?"
"...I thought you'd need them." Not want, need. He...understands. The redhead bows his head. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." And then he feels arms around him. A hug? But...He looks up at the taller man. "Take care of yourself." He steps back, and Grell goes into the cell, the door shutting behind him, white taking the place of his superior. It is only after several moments that he sinks down and weeps.
SENSES: Sight/Sound/Touch
SUMMARY: The last conversation before being put away.
PERMISSIONS: Negotiable.
White. White is the first color. The sound of soft footsteps trickles in his ear. He is in white. No chains, though his hands feel heavy enough.
Raising his head he looks to the side to see his companion. Dark-suited, pale, dark hair, striking green eyes and glasses...he knows this person. Still, fear keeps his mouth shut. The trial was brief, he was guilty, guilty, guilty. No denying it.
They turn a corner, walking down a hall. Cold, stone makes cold places. Then the man beside him begins to speak, and he knows why this man is familiar. "It's not as bad as it could be. You'll be here until they've decided it's enough, then you'll return. You're not going to die. You're not being demoted. Even if you are a criminal, we can't lose Officers."
I know that. I heard the judge. I know I'm a criminal. He stays silent, though.
"You will not be transferred out of London. In all, a mild punishment given your actions."
Like a slap on the wrist in their eyes, but I hate being alone for so long.
The man stops. "Grell Sutcliffe. Are you hearing a word of what I'm saying?"
"Yes, William."
William pushes up his glasses and resumes the walk. "At least you had the sense of mind to confess. That helped." They continue in silence until they reach the cell. There, William stops and begins to unlock the door.
"Why, William?" Grell's voice is soft, apprehensive. "Why did you ask to escort me?"
The dark haired reaper pauses. "It is my duty to oversee my subordinates."
Oh. With a sinking feeling he waits, and moves to step in the cell. Tears are flirting with him, but he can't cry yet. "Wait." He obeys William's words, turning to him. "This is yours." A brown leatherbound book, and he opens it to find the title and his name written in a corner. "...Shakespeare's works, William?"
"...I thought you'd need them." Not want, need. He...understands. The redhead bows his head. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." And then he feels arms around him. A hug? But...He looks up at the taller man. "Take care of yourself." He steps back, and Grell goes into the cell, the door shutting behind him, white taking the place of his superior. It is only after several moments that he sinks down and weeps.