It was harmless, really. At least, Aku hoped it would be, as she stomped down the darkened corridors of the moving castle. Dying had not been on her list of things to do last years, but, like most things in her life, it went wrong right at the start. Of course she died. Her small, skinny form sent flying by a car, landing in a slowly growing pool of blood, her blond hair splayed around her head and her blue eyes slowly fading out. And, she had ended up here. Souls like hers, not sure how special, were brought here, to oversee that death went smoothly, since the grim reaper could be a real slacker. Aku didn’t like this. Sure, the other lost souls here were nice, but being forced to go to sad scene after sad scene was almost unbearable, not to mention whoever was calling the shots didn’t bother showing their face. Only Kaidan knew what she (or he (or possibly it) looked like, and the easy going dragon/man wasn’t telling. Aku snorted and stuffed her hands into her pockets, kicking at offending rocks in her way. The last mission was to a funeral, which Death, as usual, didn’t bother to show up. A young woman had been laid to rest. The worst part was, Aku had seen to small children, no more then three, crying their eyes out. She had nearly broken down. She couldn’t do these jobs with normal innocent people dying for stupid, pointless, reasons.
“Someone’s in a bad mood.” Raymond commented; falling into step beside her, short silver hair bouncing right at her shoulder, blue eyes open just a crack, six scars under each eye gave it the appearance of a devious looking fox, peeking out from under her hair. Aku grumbled something about snot-nosed brats who couldn’t do a thing for them selves, while Raymond just sighed and shook her head, “Not everyone grew up like you,” she answered an unspoken question, “Not everyone can win that underground fight club when they’re seven.” Aku ignored that comment, knowing it was a lie. When she was seven, she was being used as a piñata by her “mom”. She won the fight club when she was eight. Raymond shrugged again, “Oh, well. If you’re that angry, go beat up Cho. He was sleeping in the blue room last time I saw him.” With that, the silver haired girl turned away, going down another corridor, heading toward the front entrance. Aku’s shoulders slumped as she fought back a sigh of gloom. Not matter she thought, she was stuck here. Cleaning out places because Death was slacking off, again, and again, stuck watching sad funerals that people didn’t deserve. Someone bumped into her when she realized she had stopped moving. She looked over her shoulder, and up, her small height was something Chester found out not to mention the hard way, and looked up to see Naztalia looking down on her with a slightly worried look on his face,
Naztalia, as far as she knew, was on of the oldest souls here, but he still looked like he was eighteen or something. Kind, brown eyes looked out from light cinnamon skin, which were cover with angular, tribal tattoos, but the space around his face and the space in the center of his chest were clear of the black ink. Aku resisted the temptation to act like a real thirteen year old, not one who grew up in a post apocalyptic world, and definitely in need of comfort. “Are you alright?” He asked gently, using a finger to tip her chin up, “You look down.” Aku swallowed her tears that welled up in her eyes, pulling her head away, “I’m fine, that leader of ours is just pushing us too hard. Can’t that stupid reaper do something himself?”
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