So I got bored and decided to do something with an old OC of mine. Enjoy~

"Ah, Derrick Matthews."

A scythe was raised into the air, the blade glinting as a stream of moonlight hit it through the opened window. It slashed through the air, causing a soft whistling from its cutting through the air. There was a dull ripping sound, as well a sound of liquid splattering on the linoleum flooring.

"Hmm...46 years old, poisoned by his wife. How sad." A voice murmured in the darkness.

Even though it was dark, there was enough light streaming through the window to reveal the scene of a simple kitchen of a home. The body of a man laid sprawled out on the ground, his face twisted into one of panic and fear. Around his neck were claw marks, as if he were desperate to try to breathe. No doubt it was because of the poison the woman had used on him. On the side of him, a chair had fallen over which showed that he had fallen out of it. His wife had spiked the now could food on the table with it and was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps creating an alibi for herself.

"Truly sad." The voice said again before the silhouetted figure pulled out a book. It opened right to the page with a picture of the dead man on the left hand side. Of course, it was an image from his better days. The book listed the dates of his birth as well as his death, the way of his death, and other facts of the now dead man. Soon the page was stamped with a 'Collected' symbol.

"Soul collected. I guess I'm done for the night." The book was closed and the figure made its way out of the door.

Stepping out into the dimly lit cobblestone street, the figure showed to be that of a young woman. She looked to be only around 20, her hair silver blond that curled at the edges and grew down to her shoulder blades with her bangs parted on either side of her face. Her eyes were a bright yellow-green, still being able to be seen even in the dark. Settled on the bridge of her nose was a pair of round, thin rimmed glasses, the left lens having a small crack running along the outside of the glass.

For a young lady, her outfit was one that definitely was unlike the normal clothing for women of the time. The coat she wore was sleeveless, trailing down to her ankles and black in color, the trim a dark red. The shirt she wore beneath it was sleeveless as well, the pattern being black and white stripped with a black ribbon tied around the collar. She wore a black skirt that stopped at her thighs and wore a pair of red boots that came up to her knees, the toes and heels of the boots black. Around her waist was a chain belt, the decoration of a skull with ruby eyes hung from it. A trinket left to her by her unknown father...

For a moment, she stood there outside the home, closing the door behind her and balancing the scythe on her shoulder. Her hands, slipped in black leather gloves, gripped at the handle of the scythe. She took a deep breath and let out a sigh, a could of mist hanging in the air for a moment before disappearing instantly. Stuff like this wasn't uncommon and she was used to it, it was her job and there was no room to feel bad for humans. But it always made her wonder, when it came to cases like this, what would make lovers turn on one another in such a way that death was the only way it could be solved.

It was, truthfully, stupid. But, then again, most humans were stupid.

When she heard the clicking sound of heels, she quickly went to hide, to avoid being seen. She stood pressed up against the side of an alleyway, leaning out only slightly to get the glimpse of a woman as she came up to the home she had just been at. The woman looked around quickly, as if to investigate if anyone would see her returning. Quickly, she opened the door and walked in. Just a few moments later, a scream was let out by the same woman. To signify she had just found the body of her husband, or as her alibi would say.

"Well, my work here is done." The girl murmured, turning down the alleyway but leaping up onto the rooftops as people's lights began to turn on to see what the commotion was.

After her soul collecting, the girl made sure to give over her soul collecting reports to William before leaving off on her own, as she usually did. The others never liked to have her around for too long, but kept their mouths shut when it came to business.

For now, she walked down a road that led to an elegant home of that of an aristocrat. For her, it was what she called home, even if her reasons for being there were not that of family. She had nowhere that should call a home. It was more like just a place to stay. But it was a place nonetheless and the woman who owned the home was kind. Moreso than any other people she had known.

She made her way through the gate and into the home, being silent as she did so. She had put the lady of the home to bed not long before she had left and didn't want to wake her.

"Merle, have you returned?" The voice made her jump and she realized that a woman was sitting near the entry way, a book opened up in her lap.

"Madame Cinderford? What are you doing up so late?" The girl asked, making her way to the woman.

The woman laughed, grinning in the direction of the girl. "I couldn't sleep. I thought a book would help."

Merle sighed softly as she came to her. "Come, let's get you to bed."

Vida Cinderford. An aristocrat whom Merle had met years before. The woman to whom she had become a maid to. She was at a young age of 27, taking over a business after the death of her husband. Which normally wasn't to hard a feat, however, for a blind woman, Vida handled it very well. She was a beautiful woman as well. Her auburn hair was cut short to her neck and despite being blind, her eyes were a bright violet. But one could tell the thing she lacked if they were to look at her pupils. Rather, she would normally wear something as a designer ribbon to tie around her eyes. A mystery was always something to enjoy, as Vida would put it.

Merle removed the braille book from her lap and set it aside, Vida 'looking' up at her and smiling. "Was the job hard tonight?" She asked curiously.

The woman was the only human who knew Merle as both her maid as well as the other job she had. Perhaps the only person she trusted to have such information. "Not truly. Just the normal, Madam." She explained, helping her to her feet and leading her back towards her room. Vida held to Merle's arm and allowed the girl to lead her.

"I'm not so sure on that. If I had to deal with dead people all day long, it would never get old. It must be difficult for you."

Merle nearly stopped and smiled at the thought. Difficult? No, it was what kept her alive. It's what made her look down on all the others that despised her existence. It's what made her know she was meant to be.

"No madame. It isn't difficult at all. It's just the duty of a Grim Reaper."