Yeah. It wasn't bad. In my world, purgatory's an endless stretch of nature, full of all the other morally unremarkable people who've died. They just wander around and talk about their lives. There's nothing else to do... but nothing else you have to do, either.
For me, that was unbearable. The longer I stayed there, simply existing with no structure or purpose, the deeper I sank into melancholy. The thought of that being all there'd ever be, for the unfathomable span of eternity--I couldn't do it. I need reasons to do things. I need direction.
I'd learned from the others in purgatory that we couldn't get into heaven from there, but that it was connected to the first circle of hell. Those damned souls couldn't get through to us and escape their sentences, but who was to say I couldn't cross over to their level?
So I decided to try. Because I knew, without a doubt, that my only remaining link to the purposes I'd had when I was alive... that the person I needed to see would be in hell.
[ Damn, that's edgy. She is actually muttering this word for word, actually, as she jots that down. ]
I mean, I get it. Sometimes even I get tired and want to just nap for a hot second, but I'd lose my mind if what waited for me after death was just endless wandering in a field of flowers or whatever.
So, did they just let you into hell or did you actually have to prove you were some kind of asshole?
It's not the kind of thing I could prove. At least, not to Satan. If you're a sinner, he knows. I died without doing anything particularly bad, so he let me know there was no place in hell for me.
But my case intrigued him. He found it amusing, that a non-sinner like me wanted to trade places with someone in his domain. So he made me an offer: as long as I'm completing my duties for him as a Reaper, that person can serve my lighter sentence instead of their own.
After walking all that way for something like that, I agreed. So. That's my story, I guess.
And you've been a Reaper since. I guess you're good at your job?
[ It's a lot to process, but she's learned to roll with a lot, after everything. One thing to be said for Brook, he's apparently dedicated to his convictions. ]
...It's not like I have a particular talent or interest in killing. Like I said, I've messed up a few times over the years. It's just that sending me back to a boring existence in purgatory wouldn't entertain Satan as much as keeping me on as a Reaper did.
[Again, silence. His gaze wanders out the bookstore window.]
I dunno. For most of it, I wasn't happy or sad. I just was. And that was fine. Whether it's "worth" anything... [Brook forces a shrug.] I don't even know where to start measuring something like that.
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For me, that was unbearable. The longer I stayed there, simply existing with no structure or purpose, the deeper I sank into melancholy. The thought of that being all there'd ever be, for the unfathomable span of eternity--I couldn't do it. I need reasons to do things. I need direction.
I'd learned from the others in purgatory that we couldn't get into heaven from there, but that it was connected to the first circle of hell. Those damned souls couldn't get through to us and escape their sentences, but who was to say I couldn't cross over to their level?
So I decided to try. Because I knew, without a doubt, that my only remaining link to the purposes I'd had when I was alive... that the person I needed to see would be in hell.
[DUN DUNNNNN.]
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I mean, I get it. Sometimes even I get tired and want to just nap for a hot second, but I'd lose my mind if what waited for me after death was just endless wandering in a field of flowers or whatever.
So, did they just let you into hell or did you actually have to prove you were some kind of asshole?
no subject
It's not the kind of thing I could prove. At least, not to Satan. If you're a sinner, he knows. I died without doing anything particularly bad, so he let me know there was no place in hell for me.
But my case intrigued him. He found it amusing, that a non-sinner like me wanted to trade places with someone in his domain. So he made me an offer: as long as I'm completing my duties for him as a Reaper, that person can serve my lighter sentence instead of their own.
After walking all that way for something like that, I agreed. So. That's my story, I guess.
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And you've been a Reaper since. I guess you're good at your job?
[ It's a lot to process, but she's learned to roll with a lot, after everything. One thing to be said for Brook, he's apparently dedicated to his convictions. ]
no subject
...It's not like I have a particular talent or interest in killing. Like I said, I've messed up a few times over the years. It's just that sending me back to a boring existence in purgatory wouldn't entertain Satan as much as keeping me on as a Reaper did.
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[ She heaves a sigh. She doesn't really take any joy in killing, either. ]
Is it worth it? Now that you've been stuck doing it for a while.
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I dunno. For most of it, I wasn't happy or sad. I just was. And that was fine. Whether it's "worth" anything... [Brook forces a shrug.] I don't even know where to start measuring something like that.
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[ And she waves a scarred hand at one of the shelves. ]
The ones on the left are blank, so take your pick.
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Thanks.
[Important question: Do they come in pink?]
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And she will let him take as long as he wants to pick one out. ]