Mother wants me to go to Heart Palace today, in order for me to attain a career for myself. She taught me simple things: cleaning, working, and embroidery. She has high hopes that I will be sending some income for her and the rest of the family. My name is unimportant, lest a higher power grants me a face.
We were part of the old folk, the people who made most of the population, the Faceless. I really don't care whether or not I have a Role; I am who I am and that is that. However, my big brother, he wants something more than to follow the everyday whims of our superiors. My big brother, well, he's part of the resistance in the Country of Hearts.
Slowly, but surely, my big brother has been amassing a militia to take over the kingdom. They are going to fail I know it. For one thing, my brother is not good with strategy and the like. Another thing, it's a MILITIA. The last time I checked militias are just a group of people with meager weapons. Guess what. The Queen of Hearts has an army loyal to her, prime minister ready to behead the miscreants responsible for disrupting the life of the Queen, and they had the Knight of Hearts. I don't know about you, but I heard tales of his sword being the swiftest thing in all of Wonderland and the only that surpassed his weapon was his mercilessness. Is it just me, or would my brother and his militia get creamed like flies?
Unlike me, Mother, Father, and my little sister support him in his endeavors. Yet, I am a bit apathetic about the matter. Why would I care about getting myself a role? What's the point of rising against the might of the Role Holders? The only that would transpire after the whole shebang would be death and replacement. In my opinion, target the weaker Holders first; namely, the Mortician.
Alas, my 'moody disposition' of the failing matter was considered 'unpatriotic.' So, I was shot in order to out some sense in my brain. I may have been born without a face, but I at least had a brain and sense. Nevertheless, when I came back home to resume my duties as not a role holder, I was forced into servitude because of my mother. My mother was the only one to greet me wholeheartedly, but that was because of the financial crisis that had overcome most of the Faceless.
You see, because of the uprisings here in Heart Country, all the Role Holders decided to lengthen our work hours and decrease our pay. In other words, my fellow people were beyond the point of becoming just meek underlings that our higher-ups made us out to be. Which led me to this situation that was bestowed upon me. Because I am a young fit woman, barely out of her girlhood, my mother set me off with only the clothes on my back to gain work at the dreaded castle.
As I walk into the dark forests that surrounded all the territories, I knew I was going to be worked to death, shot at, or beheaded. Either way, we were all bound to die at the hands of our own people or of the Role Holder's. The only thing that mattered was when a person came back, and even then…
Wearing a suit, briefcase filled with the necessary files, and dorky glasses place jauntily on his nose, it signaled the desertion of his former office and onto the special case promised to him. Needless to say, with good looks and eagerness to succeed, Ronald knew of the grave task he was going to undertake. In other words, his new job would further his career for his superiors to celebrate.
"My Ronny! Please tell me how you feel today!" Clutching a camera in one hand a sheaf of papers in the other, Mr. Sutcliffe looked ready to become a reporter.
"Miss Grell, please, no pictures. I have my hair all done up with pomade and—"
"Seems like yesterday when the wee lad asked why he needed spectacles," Eric reminisced as he nursed a beer bottle.
"Eric," Ronald groaned as he tried not to think of his awakening after his murder. It was a horrible way to die, and he wasn't ashamed of his origins, but did the elder have to remind him from where he came?
"Asking the darned question in the pool of his own blood and when he couldn't see a foot from his face!" Laughing jovially, he assisted the redhead in preserving the moment.
"Best leave now before they fling liquor at your suit," Allen stage whispered. Unlike the other two Reapers, the brunette took Ronald's task seriously, as if he were the one investigating the abnormality.
"That's not a bad idea, eh?" Making as if to throw the glass battle, Grell unfortunately interrupted him.
"Don't you dare ruin my little boy's big boy's suit! He is-"
"You better not invite anyone to group dates without me!" With a startled cry, all three heads jerked up to meet the rookie's joking visage. "What? I can't miss out on the fun when I'm out there in the world with an uncomfortable suit on, right?"
Wailing slightly, the neurotic redhead flung his wiry arms around the blonde's as salty tears escaped his vibrant green eyes. "Ronny, you have to dress to impress! Mama Grell loved you, even if Papa Will isn't here!"
"Gosh, Miss Grell," as the teen rolled his eyes, "You would think that I spilled booze on my dress shirt."
"Did you—!"
Laughing slightly, as he slammed the door after himself, the dual haired death god briskly walked down the street. It was time to reconnoiter the perimeter of the crime.
"So, one joke and you'll provide me with your valuable information, yes?" A man masked in the shadows of the mortuary spoke with deep confidence, a sly tone masking his true intentions.
"Hehehe, first rate for my treasure trove delights. If its less than what I desire, a pair of scissors." Hidden emerald eyes gazed thoughtfully at the man before him. Ways on how to trick idly polluting his mind.
"I'm going to ignore that jibe for now, but I agree. Now why did-"
"Excuse us sir, but we had the appointment prior to yours." Two pairs of gleaming red eyes glowed in the gloomy expanses of the shop. "Or face the misfortune of meeting our mistress."