please review!
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Daril came back with news of the shinigami king's decision that very night.
"He says we can't break the xxxvi rule, but we can be allowed two notes. One for us personally and one to drop in the human's world. YOU know what happens to humans who use the death note. They go here when they die, and mutate. That's how the shinigami king thinks we can re populate this place," she announced.
There was silence from them for a few moments. Errikan could scarcely hold in a cry of joy. He had wanted to get out of the bleak shinigami world for at least a year now and he noticed Ryuk's grin grow, if possible, wider. The nearly 8-foot tall male shinigami towered over the six-foot Erikkan but Erikkan wasn't in the least bit cowwed.
Months ago, he had gone in search of the shinigami Ryuk, hoping to get the location of the human world portal out of him. He had even brought an apple with him, since nearly every shinigami knew they were a vice of his.
Instead of revealing the location of the portal, the sneaky bastard just told him the story of Light Yagami, the human Ryuk had last posessed.
Well, now he would get to go down himself and damn Ryuk's story to MU.
Without hesitation, Errikan made his way to the northern part of the shinigami realm, to the shinigami king.
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Down in the human world, in the Manchester area of England, Great Britain, a young woman was packing up and leaving from her work as a convenient store night clerk.
She worked the night shifts alone and wore tan pants and a dark blue shirt with a name tag. The whole ensamble took away from her appearance, in her opinion. She had medium length dark auburn hair that flipped and flew with ease, whether she moved her head or got caught in the wind. Her hair was the only care she gave to her overall appearance. She was thin but curvy, with full hips, large, honey-brown eyes and big, ugly feet of which she was proud.
Her name was Dominique Lim. She wasn't oriental, despite her last name; it was just the name of the family who had adopted her as a child.
She locked up the regiters and waited for the morning shift person to come in before she went to the bathrooms and changed. She typically wore either knee-length plaid kilts laden with safety pins or, more often than not, long, baggy black pants with every manner of stitching, skulls or chains on them. She wore her hair down, where it fanned out an framed her face like a lion's mane. She knew she was pretty, she didn't need anyone to tell her that. It was just not high up on her list of things to care about.
It was late. All she cared about at that moment was getting home (she lived above a bar and grill in a rundown apartment with soundproofed floor and walls) and going to bed.
She had no idea what tomorrow held in store for her, or that it would change her world for the rest of her life.
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I would have loved to make this longer but Im exhausted. Im going to bed.