August's update is one day early today, becuase I'm going on vacation for a month! As such, September's will also be delayed by about a week. Don't worry though; I still intend to update consistantly! I've hit a bit of writer's block concerning the fifth chapter, but I'm working through it. Hopefully. It's more a challange of getting what I want down on paper the right way I want it too. Of well.
This chapter is Eve's first day of school! Reaper school! I made is as interesting as I could but no promises!
Rough awakenings are something that Eve is quite used to. Whether it is sound of dying screams of slaughter, or the heavy steps of someone foolish enough to attempt kidnapping her, or her sister excitedly shaking her to get up because there is some miracle happening outside like a triple rainbow or unicorn migration, although she tries hard not to think about the latter one, she has just as well suffered every kind rude, abrupt, and slash or unkind awakening anyone can really have experienced.
So imagine her surprise when she awakens to… the smell of baking. Cookies of all things? Of all of the things she does not expect, this takes the cake. Cookies. Oh, never mind it. But in spite of this, it makes sense. He ran out last night, if I recall.
… where exactly is that smell coming from? No matter which way she looks, Eve cannot see any entrance to a kitchen of any kind, but the scent of baking sugar stills hangs in the air and clings to the inside of her mouth. Rising from the lid of her coffin-bed, where she had ended up finding more comfortable than the interior of the casket itself, something she did not find odd as she was quite used to sleeping on hard surfaces, the girl scans the ceiling, walls, and floor for some doorway to a room that is not occupied by coffins and dead people.
The floor? No. The trapdoor she had used in previous years is gone, and despite looking in all of the other coffins lying on the floor and even knocking on the cold stone beneath her feet to find some secret panel, there is nothing unusual about it. Well, aside from the jar with a whole heart inside it…
The ceiling? Another no. There is nothing there aside from a chandelier, laden with unlit candles.
The walls, however, are another story entirely. Along with even more coffins, some thin and carved pieces of wood, and a shelf in the back, there are plenty of knick-knacks for Eve to shuffle through while continuing to sniff out where Undertaker can be. It is not until she gets to the bookshelf that the thought occurs to her that there may be a passageway that can be revealed with the removal of a well chosen book. I doubt it… but knowing Undertaker, it would be the exact thing he would do. And he probably decorates wherever he is the same way as here, too. She examines the titles. From 'Advanced Human Anatomy' to 'A Study of the Unstable Nature of Freaks', every one of them is about some equally morbidly fascinating subject, and completely typical for a mortician to own. Except the latter. That one… is just strange.
Not able to decide which book to pick, Eve ends up pulling each and every one of them out one at a time. To her surprise, or maybe not, or maybe so… her theory actually works, and the shelf eventually slides aside to reveal a staircase that yes, is dark and gloomy and dimly lit only by candles fixed into the walls, despite the morning sun shining outside. As this happens, Eve simply stands there with an incredibly annoyed expression for a while, before she then decides to just go up the stairs and find the funeral director already.
"Undertaker?" The girl pops her head through the nearest door, where the scent of baked treats is the strongest.
The man in question looks at Eve, his eyes for once uncovered. He waves in a spidery sort of way. "Good morning, my lady! Care for a cookie? I just baked a cake, too!"
She looks at him, then down at the cookies, then at the cake that is sitting on the counter, then back. And then down and down and up once more, just to be sure. "You are baking cookies." Eve states redundantly, as if Undertaker had just said almost the exact same thing not twenty seconds earlier, while staring at man in front of her. Hard.
"Mm hmmm." He does not give a coherent answer, for he is now happily munching on a newly-birthed cookie as he is doing this.
"You... Wear an apron whenever you do so?"
"Mmmmmm hmm." She takes this for a yes.
"And it is pink."
"Mmmm."
"And frilly."
"Hm."
"...and it comes with a matching cap."
At this, he finishes his morbid, sugary treat and swallows audibly. "But of course." He chirps in cheerful response. "I can't go bake cookies with all this hair in the way, now can I?" His eyes are hooded in a look of lazy seductiveness, but the effect is completely ruined by all the light pink and lacy fabric his is wearing, not to mention the strange backwards bonnet he has strapped to his head to sweep the normally present silver fringe out of his face.
"And it is also frilly." Anyone else would have started to laugh or burst into tears by this point of the conversation.
"And pink, isn't it lovely?" He holds up the skirts of the bright fabric and bows in a curtsy. Although the outfit somehow suits him slightly, Eve has to admit with great reluctance, the amount of WRONG the whole thing is simply blows everything out of proportion.
"..." She is at a loss for words, except, "I really don't know how to respond to that."
"Ah, that aside, how did you sleep, my lady?" Eve watches as Undertaker starts to strip off the apron and bonnet-thing, much to her relief, and then wags a cookie in front of her face, still warm.
She eyes the treat, but does not eat it, instead opting to yawn, covering her mouth with the back of a hand. "Not very well."
"Neeeerrrvoooous?"
"No." Eve has not been nervous for anything in a long time. "It has more to do with all the tea and cookies I have been consuming, I think. You put far more sugar in them than if recommended."
"Is that sooo?"
"Yes." Is the answer.
" I rather like sweet things, though." The mortician muses while biting off the end of a bone. "They are far more likeable than bitter ones, don't you think?"
Eve is trying to concentrate on a witty retort, but is experiencing a rare moment of failure as she finds herself unable to rip her thoughts away from Undertaker's… previous manner of dress, only managing to do so when a small noise from the floor below catches her attention. "Hmm? Someone knocked."
With fluid movements, she glides down the stairs and watches the door intently, followed by Undertaker, who does the same. Maybe scrutinizing everything that can possibly be a threat is a habit she may need to break, but for now, that is not stopping her from tensing and crouching behind a coffin in case the visitor turns out to be someone she needs to kill.
"Paranoid, aren't you?" Undertaker teases. "Don't worry; it's just the reaper Willy sent for you."
"I prefer the word 'cautious'." Eve replies. "It makes me look a great deal less insane."
Striding past Eve, the information-broker wraps his hand around the doorknob and pulls it open, slowly, so the squeaking of the hinges is especially pronounced.
It is Ronald Knox, hands in his pockets.
"Yo." He chirps.
"…Hello." The instant friendliness catchers Eve off guard, but she slips her knives away anyways.
…..
… what is this place?
Eve had never seen anything quite like it. Workers dressed in suits buzz about with various things to do, talking in small groups and all carrying some kind of bladed weapon. The premises is colorless, a stark white that contrasts with the black of the reapers' unifroms. The building she is in itself is tall, very tall,almost impossibly so, and Eve cannot help but wonder how long it would take her to fly to the roof from the ground floor.
And the aesthetics themselves are completely alien to her. Everything is neat and simple; the smoothness of the floors and desk surfaces, the way everyone's clothing looks, and sight of a massive group of people lumped together and engaged in the same activity betray notions from a completely different time. Drinking it in, Eve's eyes dart about as she takes a mental picture of everything she sees, while simultaneously listening in on Ronald's lecture.
"This is the London Division's Grim Reaper Association." The blond-black haired reaper says, in a casual tone with his arms stretched behind his head, as he glances behind him to give Eve a reassuring grin and wink. She does not change her bored looking expression, so Ronald just turns back around and keeps talking. "Our main job is to reap souls, after judging whether or not the target deserves to die. Most of the time, they do, because the only humans we spare are ones whose actions can totally alter mankind. We have a bunch of branches, like Management, General Affairs, and other stuff, but the particular branch you've been put in is the Dispatch branch. You're in training right now, which starts at 8 o'clock sharp, so try not to be late."
"We already are."
"...What?" Ronald turns around, his smile frozen.
Eve points to a clock on the wall. "It is five minutes past eight. We are late. At least, I am. Was this excused earlier because of commuting?"
His cool essentially broken, the reaper opens his mouth, closes it immediately after, but then speaks again as he grabs Eve's wrist with an apologetic smile. "Come with me."
He seems to have difficulty arriving on time to important occasions.
At this point, the two have passed by the large open rooms of people working and entered via several staircases a labyrinth of hallways with plain looking doors lining the side, distinguishable only by a number plastered on the front. When they reach a particular door, labeled '444', the blond opens it and holds it so for Eve to enter, saying, "Ladies first."
"Thank you. " Eve's response is quiet, but still hard, as she walks through without a second glance.
She had entered a lecture style room; William is standing in the front, giving a speech that had been earlier summarized for Eve by Ronald, and going into detail especially how the learning system works, being broken into the three parts of practical, writing, and ethics. Arranged in a semi-circle enclosing him are two rows of desks, attached both to their respective chairs and to another desk, making them duos. The second row is elevated on something like a staircase, designed to fit rows of desks.
Being as quiet as she usually is, William either does not hear her enter, or is pretending that he does not, so Eve simply picks the nearest unoccupied desk to sit in. It is on the far left side of the second row, and is also the only empty one, aside from its own conjoined twin.
He is still giving introductory speeches, Eve notes on William's words, which have since shifted to the dangers of demons. So in terms of the learning, I should not be too far behind. The rest of the students are quite young as well…probably about my age in physical appearance.
Let me see… they are all wearing glasses. All but two are male. All but one is dressed to what I assume is a dress code.
Three of them are very passive in nature, while five are aggressive and may cause me trouble.
All of them are writing something, mostly about the content of Mr. Spears' lecture.
Those are odd pens... not very sharp compared to a quill, but thicker and sturdier looking. If you plunged it into an artery...
Eve then realizes she had been thinking strategies to kill people again, and decides to try not to.
Finished with analyzing the kids themselves, she looks down at the paper and stick thing on her desk. The others are using the stick thing, a pen of some kind, to write words on the paper, but for the life of her, Eve cannot figure out how to turn it on. Perhaps hers is broken. I will have to make do with listening for now, then.
"The three days will be an introduction to the practical, written, and ethical aspect of reaping respectively." William ends the lecture an hour later. "After which we will go into detail for each unit in preparation for your final exam. As for the rest of today, we will continue learning about the matter of demons, angels, and interference from other supernatural beings, as the subject does not fall into any of those three categories but is still an important part of the reaper's job. Are there any questions?"
A few people raise their hands, while the rest either look as if they have nothing to worry about or like they have absolutely no idea where their mind was the past sixty minutes. Raking his eyes over the crowd, William decides to call on Eve first and say, "Miss Britford?"
Sixteen students do not react while four look at the girl and wonder exactly where she had appeared from. "Yes, sir," she replies, holding up the thing she thinks is a pen. "What is this called and how do you use it?"
…..
("-And she didn't even know how to use the pen!" One of the two other girls in the class, an older-sounding one, snickers to the boys surrounding her seat.
The aforementioned stranger is referring to how William had to walk up to Eve, take her pen, and twist the top half to reveal the nib, handing it back to her, though not before telling her to come see him at the end of the lessons.
"She has, like, a lot of catching up to do if she wants to be even with me."
"Are you sure about that, Brandi? She could have just transferred from another division or something." One the boys mentions.
"Without even being here for any of the preliminaries? Please." Brandi scoffs. "You're looking at the girl who aced the tests she didn't even show up at. The rank of first in class. Is. Mine.")
("So, how long do we have until the final examination?" This question is coming from a boy, whose tone is laden with confusion.
His seat partner answers, "Ah… three months, I think. One for each unit and then we have a month for the examination itself. I dunno. They said they might shorten it. The time, I mean."
"What! Why?" The first boy is flustered right now. "It's already hard enough as it is! Are they trying to get us to fail?"
"Well, the division is short on staff… not to mention apparently we have a lot of good people here."
"Right, right. Three girls this time; apparently that's a record. Don't they usually go into General Affairs or something like that?"
"Think so.")
All of the pupils are currently having a lunch break, in which, Eve garners, they are allowed to relax and eat a lunch which can be bought from a cafeteria, using an allowance supposedly given to them at the end of each learning day. Unfortunately for Eve, who has neither a lunch nor any kind of money, there is nothing to do but sit in her seat and subconsciously eavesdrop on the conversation of everyone in the room while writing her notes down on paper.
"Hi!"
That is, there is until someone tugs on her sleeve and continues with no intention of stopping until Eve decides to engage the person in conversation.
The one on her right is the last of the three girls in the entire group of nineteen. The girl is petite, long-haired, and is the only one be-decked in red that Eve has seen since coming to the reaping department, from her childish shiny shoes to the bow at the back of her neck to the straight-bang hairstyle on her head, which is a powdery shade of red that Eve cannot tell is natural or not. Her expression is friendly, a big difference from the Eve's, which has been emotionless the entire time.
"Hi!" She says again. "The name's Felicia Rorn, what's yours?"
Eve is not one to participate in conversations very much, but if it stops Felicia from bothering her, she supposes, there would not be much harm in doing so. "Evangeline Sonata Brittford." She answers, and then turns away again to her notes, in a subtle way telling the redhead that she does not want to talk.
Said redhead does not get the hint by a long shot, and her one question morphs into a barrage, a very, very, loud one, that spews out of her mouth and right into Eve's ear. "That's such a pretty name!" She gushes. "Were you a noble lady once? I heard that lots of noble people have really fancy names with lots of syllables. What's with your eyes? There anything wrong with them? Did you find it hard to pass the preliminaries? Are you a genius like Brandi is? How does it feel to be one of three girls in the class? Don't you think it's strange? That there are only three of us, I mean. Hey, what do you think of our mentors? Do you like William? What about Grell-sempai? Have you met her yet? Do you like her too? I think she's the coolest, she's like a big sister!"
"…" Eve, in response, pauses and groans inwardly. What have I done? She thinks, regretting ever answering the very persistent girl. "Yes, nothing, no, no, yes, I do not care, I do not care, nothing in particular, I do not care, I do not care, yes, no." She responds in quick succession, her tone similar to that of a robot.
"Eh? Why not? Grell-sempai's awesome!"
Sempai? Although the word confuses her, it is not imperative to the discussion, so Eve ignores the foreign word and answers. "Probably because the first time we met, he impaled me with his death scythe and then left me."
Eve does not know why, but Felicia's jaw drops wide, to an almost impossibly cartoonish extent, at her choice of words. "What are you saying?" The redhead is dropping her voice to a low whisper, talking behind her hand. "Don't tell me you…. You… you know!"
"…I am saying," Since the Lolita laden girl seems to be slow at understanding things; Eve decides to talk slower and to use actions to explain things to her. "That he took his death scythe, shoved it into my stomach, and then left me there to die." As she says this, her hands hold an imaginary sword and plunge it into her stomach, before ripping it out with far more realism than a fake blade has business having.
"Um… oh. That's… different to what… I thought you were… talking… about… Hey, speak of the devil! Demon! Death god! Whatever! Grell-Sempai, you're back!" Felicia's clumsy response is cut off as she instantly perks up upon seeing another redhead pass through the door.
To Felicia's undying happiness and Eve's ever-living horror, the raven-haired reaper in training will later be told that Grell is in fact in suspension and therefore had been forced into co-mentoring the new death gods along with William, even though he has the tendencies to delay his arrival by several, several, hours. And flirt with the many male trainees in the class. And threaten some of the others.
For now, however, she will just look in the general direction of the red-decked reapers, look away, and lay her head down to become harder to see. She does not feel like trifling with such troublesome people, especially one is such as Grell Sutcliff.
…..
By the time the lessons are over, Eve has learned and memorized various ways to identify (white wings and glowing red irises with slit pupils respectively), dispatch (with the use of a death scythe), and properly treat (with indifference, as always, until they try to interfere with a reaping) the various angels and demons that death gods can encounter.
(It so happens that the particular demon she first had met was in fact a rather weak one- one that messily sampled the first available dish he saw. This is just as well, as not knowing at the time how to kill demons meant that if Ronald had not shown up when he had, Eve could have been killed. )
By the time the lessons are over, though, she also knows that it is time to see William as asked, so she stops thinking about the matter. "You wanted to see me, sir?" The not-dead reaper in training asks as she walks up to the desk in the front of the room.
William finishes writing a sentence on the notes in front of him, adjusts his glasses with his hand, and closes his file before addressing Eve. "Yes. It is time for some housekeeping." His tone is just as cold and unwelcoming as when she had first met her, as Eve herself, in fact, but at the very least the teacher is not threatening to kill her this time around. "You are to come with me." Standing up and tucking his file under his arm, he grabs his scythe and walks out, and Eve takes this as a sign to follow.
They walk to the end of the hallway, down two flights of stairs, past two closed double doors with no label on them, and through the entirety the Administrative department until they reach a large open space with a great many tables and machines sitting on top that are being looked at, or maybe through, by a reaper on both sides. Once again, Eve cannot fathom how such things work, but once again, no, she does not really care. So long as I am not told to operate such a thing without training, I should be fine. So Instead of ogling the peculiar machinery, she concentrates on William's words. "It is mandatory for all reapers to wear glasses, and for reapers in training to carry basic death scythes. As such, please come with Miss Carter here to have your eyes examined for your first pairs of glasses." Her superior introduces a middle-aged woman with cat-eye glasses and kind eyes.
"Hello, Miss Britford." The taller woman gives a friendly smile that Eve does not return. "Mr. Spears has already filled me in on your situation, please take a seat and we'll get started."
…..
"Because of the nature of the glasses themselves, you will not receive them for a week or so. The same goes for your room, as the paperwork has yet to be completed. I apologize for the delay, but you will have to seek other arrangements until then. For now, you will be issued a starter scythe." William tells Eve, checking off something in his now open-again file folder. After a long, arduous hour of having she does not know what being measured by various instruments, and being told to stick her head into various things, Eve, along with William, have thankfully left the Glasses Department behind, and they are walking briskly to wherever they are going next.
Ah, if I yet to receive board, I will have to stay at the Undertaker's then… paying this back will not be pleasant. Eve thinks to herself.
In front of another generic looking door with the number '997' engraved on it, William finally stops, turns on his heel, and addresses the girl once more. "Since you were not present for the preliminary lessons please remember that this is where starter scythes for reapers in training are stored. You will be given this scythe to work with until you pass your final exam, after which you will receive your own personal death scythe. Until then, no customizations are allowed. Also, you have what is identified as a magical weapon in your possession?"
Magical weapon? "That… is not how it is usually referred to, but yes." She does not know what William is getting at; the name is rather ridiculous sounding if you would ask her, but Eve guesses that the superior is talking about her scythe.
"Alright then. Please hand it over."
Eve obeys immediately and without hesitation, pulling her weapon out of thing air from behind her back and giving it to the superior, but says, "May I ask why?"
"It will have to be confiscated indefinitely. Non-death scythe weapons of that nature are not allowed by the higher ups. Irregulars," The man answers stiffly, "Must be dealt with, and with the highest caution. This includes you."
"I see. I understand, then." Eve says with no feeling, as William puts her scythe away and withdraws what looks like a smaller version of it: a starter scythe.
It is roughly the same shape, the girl takes the scythe, and promptly turns in over in her hands, automatically comparing it to her now previous weapon on instinct. But is also smaller, with a wider blade. I will be able to use it the same way, but in a much smaller range. The number of people I will be able to fight at one time will decrease, too. This will be sufficient- for now.
"And this if your pay for the day." The supervisor is handing her something else again, and Eve wonders how many things is he capable of holding at a time, before taking it: a plain white envelope. She looks inside, and sees several papery notes with numbers on them, a far cry from the gold pieces she is used to with currency.
Well, just another thing for Undertaker to explain to me. And another thing for me to pay him for… even though he refuses the Queen's coins, as he puts it. I wonder if he accepts paper notes, then…
…..
"Hey! Fancy seeing you here!" Eve is standing at the foot of the duo doors she had passed by before, pondering several thoughts in her head with her hand at her mouth until she hears a semi-familiar voice call to her and she shifts her eyes momentarily to see Ronald, his blond… black-haired… whatever the word for it is called face lit up with a confident friendliness. "All of the other trainees usually spend their free time elsewhere… what are you doing in front of the library doors?"
She… needs to explain herself, apparently. "I am debating whether it is alright for me to enter these doors. This is where the books are kept, are they not?"
"Um, yes, but what would you need with those?" Ronald notices the intense stare Eve is giving the library doors and stands beside her, leaning down so his eyes are the same height as hers to look that them, trying to see if there is some kind of unknown picture drawn on them that the girl is looking at by staring reaaalllly hard. He fails.
"I need to borrow some."
"…" The blond is confused. "No offense, but you're waaaaaay to early to be looking that the record books."
"Not the record books. Other ones. Are any kept here?"
"Oh!" A light bulb lights up his eyes. "That's the other library; it's a few floors up. I can show you, if you like."
Eve is a little wary of Ronald's eagerness to help, but she accepts his aid anyways with an "Okay." and follows the reaper to the 'other library'.
…..
The 'other library' in question is, as Ronald shows Eve, smaller than the records library, but still rather spacious. It has a warmer atmosphere than the rest of the building she has seen, featuring carpet floors instead of cold stone tiles and a warmer color palette than the usual icy blue and white.
"And this is it!" The reaper holds open the door again, smiling charmingly. "It's got novels, textbooks, anything you need to keep yourself busy for a few hundred years. Though personally, I'm not too sure if you'd want to do that; there's so many par-"
"Can I ask you something, Mr. Knox?" Eve is immediately looking through the books so Ronald cannot see her face.
"Yeah?"
"What is your ulterior motive here?"
"… what?" The blonde repeats the question for a second time that day.
She is referring to the fact that he had bothered to actually guide her not only to the reaper realm, but to this library as well, all while grinning as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him. If she knows anything about the kindness of others, it is that they never display it without some kind of reward for them, especially for strangers they have never met. They simply did not.
And the fact that Ronald is currently disproving her makes for the most unsettling thing of all.
"Are you hiding something?" This time, the suspicion in her voice is impossible to misunderstand.
"Ah, well," There is hesitation, embarrassment, and other unimportant feelings in his words. "Spears-sempai explained to me about your whole 'special case' thing going on, and because I'm one of the few people who know, the association's trying to keep it a secret by involving as few people as possible." Ronald explains. "So if I help you out and keep you out of trouble, I get to duck loads of the overtime I've racked up! And that means more free time, see?"
"Ah, so that is it."
"You know," The reaper keeps talking even as Eve gives the pretense of ignoring him by selecting and borrowing a series of very hefty, dusty, volumes, with the exception of one thin paperback. "I forgot to tell you this morning, but every week we all like to go out and have a group date when the workload's the lightest, and today happens to be it, would you like to come? I can introduce to everyone else, and we could get to know each other…"
"No thank you." Eve shoots him down immediately. She hoists the now checked out, enormous stack of books onto her head and starts to leave. "I am busy tonight."
"…with what?" The girl can understand Ronald's tone; it is the first day of lessons. There is nothing to be really occupied with.
In answer, Eve quietly makes a noise between 'ah' and 'ugh', which comes out of her mouth sounding like "Uahgh." She twitches just a little bit, the tower of bound paper mimicking her movements. "I have catching up to do. And a debt to pay." She responds dejectedly.
…..
Giggles.
Titters.
Chortles.
Snickers.
And every other kind of reaction- except laughter.
Eve has been sitting on a coffin, reading all kinds of humorous stories and jokes for Undertaker from the one book on the subject she was able to find in the library, for three hours straight. The man has given her responses in the form of giggles, titters, chortles, and snickers, and every other kind of reaction- except laughter.
Just barely, just barely, she feels the slightest bit of anger, if it is in fact anger, and not the urge to strangle anyone or set anything on fire, because it could very well be one of the other options too.
"What." She commences asking, as she indulges in something that a person with a more creative vocabulary can describe as 'head-coffin', punctuating each pause with another clash of skull and wood, "Will it take. To get you. To laugh?" Her voice is more muffled and unreadable than usual, but the funeral director seems to derive all the more amusement from the fact.
"Ehhhhhhh, more than that, I know for sure." Undertaker answers snidely, mirroring Eve's own response from she cannot bother to remember how long before. This subtle jab gets a giggle, from the mortician of course, as he enjoys his own horrible joke, but still no full-blown laughter.
With half of her face mashed against the carved surface of her seat, the girl watches Undertaker do this with the uncovered half of her face and scowls a partial scowl, the left corner of her mouth drawn back with a "Tch." She lifts her head from the casket, rubbing the shape of a swirl that has now imprinted itself on her skin, which causes the Undertaker to snicker and titter at the same time. (At this rate, Eve will have to start making up words to even begin to describe the noises he is making.) "In the end, it is not so much my sense of wit and humor that makes you like this, but my own humiliation." She complains under her breath. "How much more of a fool do I have to make of myself?"
"It's because you're so terrible at telling jokes." The silver-haired man says bluntly. His hands wrap around the worn out text in Eve's lap and snatch it out of her grip with an almost audible 'yoink'. He leafs through the pages, sifting through the words with but a glance. "But your own natural, well, reactions to everything are just so funny! I don't think I've ever met someone who acted so incredibly awkward around people. After all, who doesn't know how to use a pen?"
"That is hardly my fault." Eve huffs in defense. "I have only ever used quill pens to this day. How was I supposed to know other varieties-" she is about to say "existed?" But stops as her face is attacked by a flying projectile known as the common book. "Eh- What is this?" She peels the thing off of her face to see it is open to pages further back towards the end. Upon reading the actual words, however, her answer is unfortunately answered, and she almost squeals as she sets the book pages down on her lap. "What-"
"Because you're currently my guest~" Comes the explanation. "And since I'm starting to feel very sorry for you, I'll give you a discount for today." The mortician is having trouble saying this with a straight face, as his face twitches and it becomes obvious that he is struggling to hold in his mirth. "If you read this," here, he points at a certain… passage. "I'll accept it, whether I laugh or not. How about that?"
After an awkward turtle of a pause, Eve finally sputters, "Why would you have me read such a… an… inappropriate thing? Have you no taste?" She is starting to feel weird. Not dead-person-personality weird, not what-in-blazing-hell-am-I-doing weird, just plain WEIRD.
"And here IIIIIIIII thought you would have no qualm about doing such a thing- you seem so uncaaaarring lately. I thought this particular ditty would sound especially funny coming out of your mouth, given how you've been behaving. Sometimes contradictions-" He grins wider here. "Are the most fun things of all."
"… I admit my reactions to, well, everything in general have been stunted as of late." The girl retorts, looking over the obscene ditty in front of her. "But that does not mean I am a machine. I have likes and dislikes. I have standards. And my standards," Now it is Eve's turn to present (read: shove) the book to the mortician's face, "Are completely against such a thing."
"Ah, but you are getting behind on your debt, aren't you, my lady? This is a good chance I wouldn't pass up if I were you~"
With a sigh that morphed halfway into a horrified shiver, Eve silently acknowledges that Undertaker is completely right. So, mustering up her courage, and taking the collection of jokes from the man, she hides herself using it and reads out in a monochromatic tone:
"There once was a woman in Q,
Who filled her vagina with glue.
And she said with a grin,
'If they pay to get in,
Then they'll pay to get out of it, too.'"
Undertaker watches as the girl reads out the dirty limerick with absolutely no feeling in her voice, but alongside tightening fingers and trembling hands, and look at him with cold eyes over the leather backing of the text. The sheer absurdity of the scenario in front of him is enough to make his mouth twitch upwards.
And then crack open.
And then spurt forth the biggest laugh Eve has heard from him, no, heard ever in her life.
"AHAHAHAHAHAAHAH! HAHAHAHA! HAHA!" He falls off the coffin and starts to roll on the floor, hitting it with one hand, clutching his stomach with the other. "She did that with her… HAHA! And you said it with a straight face… HAHAHA… the entire time I… HAHAH!" He manages to say, before dissolving into laughter again. "HAHAHAHAHAHA! HA!"
Eve looks at the mortician from above, her face looking directly at his from above. She has had quite enough of this absurdity. "I am glad you find such joy from my misery." She does not sound very glad at all. "Then this will suffice, yes?"
"Yes, yes, of course, my lady! Heh…"
Satisfied that Undertaker is as well, Eve decides, as she reaches for another book, this one much bigger and titled "The Discussion of the Ethics of Reaping Human Prodigies" that it is time to read about more important things than jokes.
It has occured to me that the way Eve is now, she is a very boring person. Serious, non-chalant, she's almost like William exactly! In an effort to keep this story interesting, I have tried doing so by making all kinds of unfortunate stuff happen to her. Don't worry, I'll torture her into being a much more interesting person later on, but for now make do with laughing at her suffering like Undertaker.
Wooooow. If I ever met my OC's in real life, this chick would kill me.