So all the little warriors are off to their battlefields, are they? Unfortunate the Malnosso don't allow spectators. I'm sure it would be quite the sight to see.
No, not dead lad--lady--......you. Very much alive, in fact. Not a god, either, although that would be quite interesting. Think of it as contract work for the powers that be, picking up souls what're lost at sea.
Another lad got the job in the end, name of William Turner.
Hmmmmm~? Is that so? What an interesting life you lead, Mr. Pirate.
I suppose Mr. Turner is doing us a service though. Quite difficult to get those lost at sea, you know. Gives us any number of headaches trying to file them away when we haven't a record to file.
Sometimes they have the gall to turn up living anyway. Such a bother.
Name's Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. And yes, that whelp Turner is likely doing a fair bit of good in the world, damn him.
...
You don't reap them until they're properly dead, right? There's no "oh there's a shiny soul! Bother, he's still alive! Better pluck it now while it's fresh" about you, is there?
Ah, yes. I remember you. The dirty one. Captain Sparrow. Such a rogue and oh so handsome when properly washed.
[A pause.]
Officially? No. We have a List we stick to, and the upper management is quite strict about it. No Off List reaping allowed and all that. Everyone has their proper time and place to die and we wait it out until the poor bloke or lady drops dead. Or gets killed. Or run over by a carriage. Whatever the case may be.
Right! This. This, I do not understand. You? Death god. Shouldn't a sodding death god have the wherewithal and whathaveyou to bust through the bloody barrier and do whatever he...she....thing....whatever? Whatever you want?
[He shudders a bit at "ripped from this mortal plane." Because that sounds uncomfortable, damn it.]
She and yes, I should. If it weren't for whatever it is these people do to us when we arrive. I should be able to just kill you all and kill them and go on my merry little way, but unfortunately, I'm being prevented.
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Lady--lad---thing---LADY. Right. Spill it, then, milady.
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And if you truly must know, I'm a reaper. Of souls.
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Bugger. This might come as a shock, reaper, but I was up for that job at one point not long ago.
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Unless....you aren't one of those dead but not people, are you? Oh, they are so dreadfully confusing to me.
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Another lad got the job in the end, name of William Turner.
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I suppose Mr. Turner is doing us a service though. Quite difficult to get those lost at sea, you know. Gives us any number of headaches trying to file them away when we haven't a record to file.
Sometimes they have the gall to turn up living anyway. Such a bother.
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...
You don't reap them until they're properly dead, right? There's no "oh there's a shiny soul! Bother, he's still alive! Better pluck it now while it's fresh" about you, is there?
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[A pause.]
Officially? No. We have a List we stick to, and the upper management is quite strict about it. No Off List reaping allowed and all that. Everyone has their proper time and place to die and we wait it out until the poor bloke or lady drops dead. Or gets killed. Or run over by a carriage. Whatever the case may be.
Unofficially? Well....
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[A bit of an uncomfortable pause. Handsome?]
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I do try my best to stay with regulations, you see, but...they're so... restricting. It takes all the fun out of the job, you know?
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[Trying VERY hard to sound casual about this.]
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And sadly I am not on the field this time. It does leave me so....bored. It's never good to have a death god bored. [SIGH.]
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[He shudders a bit at "ripped from this mortal plane." Because that sounds uncomfortable, damn it.]
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Terribly frustrating.
Isn't that just horrible of them?
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[What]
I do like not being killed, though. Lovely thing, not to be killed.
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