Send me "alt!" and I'll introduce you to a character I've rped in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else! [ Accepting ]
[ 📝 ] :: Crisp clean white sheets of paper lie atop his desk neatly, as freshly penned ink gracefully etched upon each piece, dry and mar the blank canvas with prose of each human soul collected and archived in the grim reaper data base. Documents, intently transcribed; descriptions of the collection process and how the withered human who once breathed life further decayed in their last fruitful moments of their life.
The mortal life; once vibrant, abstract, profound– thus decay to dust, to ash, to falter as a shell housing a soul no more. This was the job of a shinigami; the path one of unearthly being must take to bring about his own salvation in death. There was to be no feeling involved in the job; one does as they are instructed by those on high, and completes so by the rules. It was their duty as death bringers; the chariot to the end, the guide to the afterlife. In the hope that one day, shinigami can to find peace within their own death.
A purgatorial penance, the shinigami kind must serve. As they brought about their demise in mortal life by their own hand; and to atone for their sin, they must work their way to salvation.
Which is why the supervisor took his occupation so seriously. He longed for peaceful rest, for tranquil departure and entrance into eternal sleep. His soul was somber, placated with little hope and remorse for the living. With his hardened exterior and cold calloused demeanor, he would not allow others to hinder his work. He was strict, easy to whip those lethargic and uninspired into shape within the collections department to ensure his penance be served in good standing and haste.
As a gloved hand gracefully grips a writing pen, dances about the a strewn paperwork that is in need of his review and signature of approval, his other gently pushes his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. The door to his office clicks as it opens, and the shinigami does not grant the newfound guest in a glance of greeting.
Instead, he remains within his work, his sharp tone resonating the stagnant stillness as he speaks.
❮❮ ❛Honestly, it is rather rude of you to enter into my quarters without proper announcement. A simple knock of the door would have been acceptable.❜ ❯❯
He dots the end of the sentence he had been writing on paper, trailing two toned chartreuse eyes in unnerving diligence toward the one who stand amidst the door way. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, a grit of his teeth in disgust when finding that the unwanted guest was none other than Ms. Grell Sutcliff; the bumbling wretch pest of collections. This woman, this perverse wicked wench; her presence remained of great pain to him. And as she stand before him now, he could begin to feel the blood within him boil and his foul mood rise. What was it that she wanted? In monotonous tone of voice, he speaks.
❮ ❮ ❛Then again, how could I expect such courtesy from a pest such as you, Sutcliff. Your manner could be of comparison to that of a hound, however. In due time, you could be trained. Think of this as training lesson number one, Sutcliff. Exit my office now and close the door behind you. If what you need to bother me with is of great importance, then I suggest you knock during your second chance.❜ ❯ ❯
The supervisor waves his left hand as if to shoo her away, returning back to his work as he does so.
❮ ❮ ❛Go on, exit. Needn’t you waste my time further.❜ ❯ ❯
Character: William T. Spears from Kuroshitsuji
Roleplayed: In the past. I had a blog for him about 2 years ago on Tumblr and deleted it like a few months after I made it omg;;
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