- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, Magical, Fandom(depending), Romance(depending)
There is no escaping death. No matter how much you try, your time always comes when it comes, and there is no way around it. People are meant to die, they know this as soon as they are born, for all life must eventually end. True you continue to live in an afterlife, whatever it is that the person believe it is, but your life on Earth must come to an end. Otherwise everything would fall apart if life was suddenly eternal, and there was no fear of the skeletal figure in a dark cloak, carrying a menacing scythe that reaps away the souls it hungers.
At least that's the way Jasper thought about it, but being the Reaper of Souls will do that to a person, dulling their mind to such simple thinking. Death was his life, it was all he knew, all his work day in and day out. He was Death, the balance between the living and the dying, the taker of the souls and ending their life. Jasper never really thought about the lives he took. Why should he? They were dead now.
People die every day, and he is simply there to take their souls, souls that now wandered aimlessly around without the shell to house them. In case it wasn't clear, Jasper was the Grim Reaper, the dreaded dark being that everyone feared to see. But he was not the skinless skeleton that people would think he was, nor did he wear the dark cloak or carry a large scythe, or walked with hell's fire trailing behind him. He was a simple young man, with deathly pale skin and pitch black hair, with eyes that seemed to flare like fire the longer you stared into him. Okay, so he wasn't exactly simple, just a human being that probably stood out of the crowd.
But this was only a disguise to hide his true form, for right now he needed to walk among the living, and do so without being recognized. There might be those who when they look at him get a sense of dread, but never will they discover who he was, just a looming figure who kept to himself. He walked in this form even now, heading down the street with his hands in his pockets, those burning eyes focused ahead. There was a special target he was after now, to ensure that her death was secured, a death that will happen in three days after a week. His boss made it perfectly clear that he wanted this girl's soul, and that was just what he was going to do.
He found the location he was looking for, seeing the sign dangling from the innocent building off by itself down the road, the scent of coffee getting stronger the closer he got. He paused on the sidewalk, waiting for the road to clear of cars so that he may cross, not that he was afraid to get hit. It might hurt, but he wouldn't die, just a bit roughed up. However not many people would approve of seeing someone get right back up after getting hit by a speeding car, simply dusting off before walking again. That would draw way too much attention and cause an uproar. Once the road was clear he ran across the street and made his way towards the building, opening the door and heard the light 'ding' of the bell, signaling his entrance. He made his way over to the line, waiting patiently as his eyes drifted over to the clock.
Almost time... She'll be here soon.
At least that's the way Jasper thought about it, but being the Reaper of Souls will do that to a person, dulling their mind to such simple thinking. Death was his life, it was all he knew, all his work day in and day out. He was Death, the balance between the living and the dying, the taker of the souls and ending their life. Jasper never really thought about the lives he took. Why should he? They were dead now.
People die every day, and he is simply there to take their souls, souls that now wandered aimlessly around without the shell to house them. In case it wasn't clear, Jasper was the Grim Reaper, the dreaded dark being that everyone feared to see. But he was not the skinless skeleton that people would think he was, nor did he wear the dark cloak or carry a large scythe, or walked with hell's fire trailing behind him. He was a simple young man, with deathly pale skin and pitch black hair, with eyes that seemed to flare like fire the longer you stared into him. Okay, so he wasn't exactly simple, just a human being that probably stood out of the crowd.
But this was only a disguise to hide his true form, for right now he needed to walk among the living, and do so without being recognized. There might be those who when they look at him get a sense of dread, but never will they discover who he was, just a looming figure who kept to himself. He walked in this form even now, heading down the street with his hands in his pockets, those burning eyes focused ahead. There was a special target he was after now, to ensure that her death was secured, a death that will happen in three days after a week. His boss made it perfectly clear that he wanted this girl's soul, and that was just what he was going to do.
He found the location he was looking for, seeing the sign dangling from the innocent building off by itself down the road, the scent of coffee getting stronger the closer he got. He paused on the sidewalk, waiting for the road to clear of cars so that he may cross, not that he was afraid to get hit. It might hurt, but he wouldn't die, just a bit roughed up. However not many people would approve of seeing someone get right back up after getting hit by a speeding car, simply dusting off before walking again. That would draw way too much attention and cause an uproar. Once the road was clear he ran across the street and made his way towards the building, opening the door and heard the light 'ding' of the bell, signaling his entrance. He made his way over to the line, waiting patiently as his eyes drifted over to the clock.
Almost time... She'll be here soon.