Hetaween Day 2: Grim Reaper
Rating: T
Warnings: Minor Character Death
Word count: 4.2K
Pairing: Reaper! Ukraine x Human! England
@hetaween-event
Also on Ao3
Sight
Olya didn't remember her last name. There wasn't really a need for them where she was, traveling between the living and the dead. The scythe was really for traveling dimensions, a light tap was all she needed to collect souls. She had a fanny pack to put them in, decorated with skull stickers. She customized it herself, not that anyone around ever appreciated it anyway. Humans were frightened upon noticing her, and usually it meant they would be dead soon, and it didn't leave much in the way of conversation.
Reapers were often moved around because collecting souls in one place became an endless slog, there was no way to collect each and every soul, there was no way to be done, sort of speak. A change of scenery boosted morale or so she'd been told.
Olya stepped through the portal onto the asphalt of the new place she would reap souls. Cloudy skies were overhead, and people filed past her, the dates above their heads and the day clocks ticking, as minutes counted down hours, too far into the future to be of any relevance to her now.
Their eyes would always see through her, never truly at her until…
A pause, slight, pupils shrinking, eyes widening, a quick turn on their heels.
Olya checked the date above their head, today, clock nearing zero, mere minutes. She waded through the crowd effortlessly as she neared her target, brown eyes, brown skin, high puff ball bouncing as the smaller figure sped up in pace.
Heavy steps along the pavement, the faster she got there the more time she had. The woman crossed a street, not bothering to check if they had the right of way, Oyla hurried, neared closer.
There was a loud sound, the horn of a car, and a bright light.
“Watch out!” She screamed.
Tires screeched, but the car still slammed into the woman. They were knocked onto the pavement, flung a few feet and Olya approached them, the clock now at zero.
With a rather sad sigh she kneeled down, scooping out her soul and slipping it into her fanny pack. A man stepped out of the car, tan brown skin, hair brushed over to one side, and a thick mustache, crows feet around his eyes.
He rushed to the woman's side, frantic, although Olya knew it was already too late.
~~~~
She'd spent an hour here, perched on this woman's couch as she was busy knitting.
“It's coming along quite nicely,” The woman said.
“I agree! Is that going to be a scarf?” Olya asked.
The woman continued to knit and her clock counted down. Her wrinkled pale fingers graceful as they wrapped the yarn around each needle..
Olya touched the yarn of what looked to be the ending of a scarf. Its fibers, sticking up slightly.
The woman did not stop her task.
It was rather late, and she knew she would have more to do. She just liked to stop in sometimes and sit with some humans who died at home. They didn't notice her until the last few moments, but sometimes it felt like she belonged somewhere.
The clock was winding down, minutes, seconds, and then they locked eyes. The woman clutched her chest.
Silent, frantic, panicked. Her needles rolled onto the floor.
Zero.
Olya collected the older woman’s soul. Making sure to close the door after herself.
Sleep soul collecting was the easiest, a quick visit, and no contact, no fear, just peaceful rest.
~~~~
Raindrops slid down the bridge of her nose, to land on her lips; they tasted salty, with a hint of dew. Gathering on the tips of her eyelashes, vision swirling, she blinked. Her black hooded fabric weighed heavy on her shoulders.
Umbrellas were up, although none to shade for herself. She'd forgotten to carry one, the rain being quite unexpected.
A man stood idly by at the bus stop, checking his watch. He wasn't going to make it wherever he planned to go. He absentmindedly tapped his foot in sync to the music he was playing through his headphones, a walkman clipped to his belt.
Olya looked up at the rather dreary sky.
Footsteps squished against the wet sidewalk as she and the man were approached by a fair skinned blond haired man. The man she was following had dark brown skin, hair cut short to his head, and looked to be around the same age as the man who had approached them.
“You're not here for me are you?”
Maybe they knew each other.
But the man paid him no attention, still tapping his foot to his music, and so she was forced to meet the blond’s gaze.
He was shorter than her, tilting his umbrella back to look up at her, she realized he had asked her a question.
She licked her lips, and glanced at the date and time above his head: not today, far from it actually.
“No!”
Death herself, startled by a little human, the other reapers would laugh at her.
The man’s face flooded with relief, “Good.”
Olya’s insides were buzzing with excitement. This man could see her, they could talk, he wasn't afraid of her. How was this possible?
“You're getting quite soaked there. Or does it not bother you? I'm not sure what affects reapers or not…”
“Silly me,I forgot to bring one.” She wasn't thinking much of it.
The man held his umbrella to her.
“Oh no! I couldn't take yours! You'll get all wet.”
She waved her hands in dismissal. To which the blonde haired man grabbed one of her hands and placed the handle within it.
The bus pulled up, the man she was following perked up, and he made his way to the open door. She was forced to follow him if she wanted to collect his soul.
The blonde haired man didn't move, giving her a wave as she fumbled with putting the umbrella away before she scurried onto the bus.
~~~~~
The umbrella, now decorated with waterproof sunflower stickers, shielded her from downpours. Humans couldn't see it now, until they saw her, but she hoped to run into the man who gave it to her again.
Alas there weren't any near death people at the bus stop. She sighed and continued on to Regent's Park, the rain finally letting up. She sat on a bench next to a woman
The woman was eating an apple before she started choking. She looked to Olya, pointing to her throat, panicking, unable to speak to get anyone else's attention. Olya frowned, counting the freckles speckled across her face.
Lightly she wiped away the tears staining her cheeks, and brushed her copper colored hair from her lifeless green eyes.
She unzipped her pouch and collected her soul. The woman’s hand going limp, releasing the apple which dropped onto the ground and rolled lightly before hitting the tip of a pair of loafers.
“Hmm, right here on the bench. Quite eerie. But you've seen this a lot haven't you?”
Olya looked up, startled to see the blond haired man standing over the bench. She noticed he had freckles across his cheeks and vivid emerald green eyes.
His eyes flickered from the dead woman to her.
“Oh, it's not something I think I could ever get used to.”
“Really?”
“The mundane activities, seemingly harmless, and yet here I am.” Olya let out a sardonic laugh, “I don't like being unable to help.”
The man gave her a look of pity, a slight quirk of his lips,“Hmm…well I'll be off, it'll look suspicious talking over a dead body like this.”
“W-wait! Look!”
She felt silly for wanting to show him the umbrella now but she didn't know when she'd see him again.
He furrowed his rather bushy eyebrows, “How decorative, I'm glad you've made it your own. I really must go, cheers.”
Olya watched as he walked past, pace hurried just as another person approached the bench and leaned down to check the dead woman's pulse.
~~~~
Olya was determined to find out more about the little human who could see her. What was his name? She could search for this information in the underworld, but since she could talk to him, Olya thought it would be a fun challenge to obtain this information conversationally.
Olya was behind a woman, picking out an orange at the local farmer’s market. Then she saw the man, a few stalls down, picking out a cucumber.
She scanned dates and luckily there was someone next to him, an older man, doing the same thing.
“Hello!”
“Now you must be here for me.” He said, voice lowered. The elderly man couldn't hear him.
“I wouldn't be excited to see you then.”
The man scoffed, “I find that hard to believe.”
“Well it's true.”
“What do I owe the pleasure, Miss Reaper, if not my own demise?”
“I have a name, Olya.” Olya clasped her hands together with a definitive nod.
The man blinked, “Oh, well, I’m Arthur. Nice to meet you.”
“Sir, are you going to buy that cucumber?” The man at the booth placed a hand on his hip.
Arthur's cheeks were flushed pink. He still made the purchase and walked past the booth. The elderly man was still perusing the vegetables.
Although, technically she was supposed to follow humans close to their deaths, she had the ability to walk freely. Although she would get a warning upon missing soul collections.
She tore away from him to catch up to Arthur, who had the cucumber clutched tightly to his chest.
“You were lying earlier. I am going to die soon, aren't I?”
“No! I-I just wanted to talk.”
“The harbinger of death wants to talk to me outside of work hours. I'm flattered.” He smirked.
“How are you not frightened?”
“Oh I am, terribly so. You know when I'm going to die, and I can't tell if it's my sight or it's time. I’m used to seeing all kinds of spirits, and have been since I was young.” He sped up his walking pace, shoulders hiked up to his ears.
“I will let you know if it's time.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he dropped them, slowing his pace to a stop.
“I appreciate that.”
~~~~
She followed Arthur home: a rather small townhome, squished next to one that had a little red car out front.
“Sit wherever you’d like. I'll make us a cuppa, you drink tea yeah?”
She sat on his rounded floral patterned couch, it was rather old and lived in. Something she would have had in her past life.
She had left her scythe by the door. His washing machine and dryer were also in the kitchen area. He opened the dryer to take out a blanket. He approached, laying it on the arm of the couch.
“If you get cold. I just like to have them here to save on fiddling with the heat. Electric prices are always going up.” He rolled his eyes.
She has seen people freeze to death from the cold, outside, but she didn't think it was appropriate to mention it now. She smiled.
Arthur went back into the kitchen. She watched him as he turned on his electric kettle and washed the cucumber he purchased.
“Have you always been around?” He asked.
“Oh no, I'm new to the area. They rotate us around to keep us working. Maximum efficiency."
“Even fantastical beings have to succumb to corporate bureaucratic bullshite, how disappointing.”
Olya let out a snort, as he started slicing the cucumber.
“It’s not so bad. I get to see all sorts of people and experience all sorts of weather. It was so warm in Rio de Janeiro.”
“I can imagine. A stark contrast to the rather dreary weather here.”
“Its not all bad, it's nice for staying indoors.”
“For someone associated with death you're rather optimistic.”
“Not all reapers are the same. You shouldn't stereotype.” Arthur avoided her gaze as he was now spreading butter on bread. “But …I've never met a reaper who didn't enjoy what they do. Some play up the theatrics, others take their job very seriously.”
“I'm assuming you're not very fond of your job.”
“No…it's not that. I don't like being feared. Very few people are happy to see me.”
He delicately placed the cucumber slices on the bread before the kettle whistled.
Silence settled between them.
Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. No rebuttal, no reassurance, even he couldn't deny that he would be upset under normal circumstances.
He was still human afterall.
He brought out two teacups from an upper cupboard and fixed their tea, asking how much sugar she wanted and she motioned “a little.”
“Careful, it's hot.” She met his eyes and he frowned. “Force of habit.”
Olya smiled, taking the cup and placing it down on the coffee table in front of her. She un-fastened her cloak and folded it neatly beside her. She didn't want it to get dirty.
Arthur sat in an arm chair just to her left, “I didn't know you looked so…”
“Beautiful?”
“Human.”
She was wearing a button up shirt, overalls, and boots. Olya reached for a little sandwich on the platter he placed between them. He had even cut the crusts off, how quaint.
“I used to be.”Olya looked back at him, his gaze having shifted away from her, to absentmindedly pick at a loose thread on the sweater he was wearing.
“That's a surprise.”
“I don't know the specifics. Starving I think, dead one moment, I woke up again the next. I was given a cloak and a scythe, and told to collect souls before being pushed out into the cold. It was strange to be in the same place again…where I had been.”
“That sounds very cruel. You were sent out there just like that?”
“Hmm I had a mentor who liked theatrics. Wanted to see me struggle a bit before he was actually of any help.” Olya blew her tea. “Or maybe he was late…” Olya furrowed her eyebrows. It had been a while ago since she was paired up with Francisco.
Liên ran a rather tight ship and Francisco was more easy going, he showed her how beautiful death could be.
The cucumber sandwich was surprisingly good, a cute little snack she's never had before.
As she sipped her tea she caught Arthur looking at her multiple times, gaze flickering to something else.
“It's good, this tea.”
“O-oh. Right, yes. I take pride in making a good cuppa.” He gave her a haughty smile.
Olya found him very peculiar.
And soon it was getting late and Arthur said he had work in the morning.
“What do you do?”
“I sell maps, atlases, and travel brochures at a shop in Notting Hill.”
“Maybe I'll stop by, someone might be on the brink of death in your shop.” Olya smiled.
Arthur's eyes widened, “I hope not!”
Olya shrugged, “Who knows? It'll be a fun surprise. Have a goodnight.” She grabbed her scythe and made her way out the door.
“You don't even know where it is.”
Olya paused, “You're right. Well…maybe I'll get lucky.”
“Wait, hold on a moment.”
He left briefly, she heard a bit of rustling before he returned with what looked like a map.
“Here, now you could properly give me a heart attack.” He handed it to her, trying to appear standoffish.
She grinned, taking the map. “Thank you.”
How thoughtful of him to circle where his shop is.
~~~~~
Olya went back to reaping souls like normal for maybe a week or so before she got bored, and wanted to see Arthur again. She skimmed through the records kept in the underworld and found Arthur's home phone number.
Olya stepped into a red phone booth, taking out a slip of paper, and dialed the digits.
She felt a bit giddy, hearing the phone ring, it clicked.
“Hello, Kirkland residence, Arthur speaking, who is this?”
Olya swallowed her giggles, before she let out a breath, “You’re going to die in seven days.”
“What!? Who is this? Is this some kind of prank?”
Olya pulled the receiver away from her mouth to laugh.
“If this is some kind of sick joke I'm hanging up!”
“No! No, it's me, Olya!”
“Is this how I find out? Do you usually call people!?”
“No. I just wanted to scare you a little.”
“Mission accomplished, if that's all you wanted, I'll be hanging up.”
“Wait. Is your schedule open? I was thinking about stopping by.”
The line was silent for a moment, she couldn't hear anything, she wondered if he had hung up.
“Hmm…I'll have to shift some things around–”
“If you're busy–”
“I-It’s not important, I could postpone it…at least give me a bit of time to prepare for your arrival.”
“How much time do you need?”
~~~~~
Olya happily munched on a few shortbread cookies, or biscuits as Arthur called them, as she waited for her tea to cool.
They were sitting in the same spots as before, albeit she was wrapped in the blanket Arthur had brought out, her scythe by the door, and her cloak folded beside her.
Apparently Arthur had made these cookies himself.
“Do you usually bake?”
“Sometimes…not often. I don't have much in the way of company.”
“I don't see why not. You're very good company.”
“You don't have anyone else to compare. I'm sure that if you could talk to everyone else, I would be the last person on your list.”
Olya scrunched her mouth in a frown, “How could you say that? You've been nothing but sweet to me this entire time.”
“Seeing spirits doesn't get you many companions, it makes you an outcast, and a bit odd.” He furrowed his eyebrows.
“Well even still…I wouldn't rather be anywhere else right now.” She gave him a grin and met his gaze, when he had paused briefly and looked up from where he was embroidering what looked like initials onto a small pair of pink socks.
Then he quickly averted his gaze, cheeks as pink as those socks.
“Who are they for?” She pointed to said socks.
“My niece.” Arthur rolled his eyes, “My oldest brother's daughter.”
“You have siblings?”
“Yes, an annoying younger brother and two equally annoying older brothers.”
“They can be difficult sometimes, but at least you love each other right?”
Arthur made a disgruntled noise, scrunching up his nose.
“You wouldn't be embroidering initials on socks for your niece if not.” Olya smirked, “I had siblings too; I wonder how they’re doing now, I haven't had to bring them in so I'm assuming, just fine.”
Olya reached for her tea and took a sip, as they settled into comfortable silence.
~~~
Liên was not happy about her “slacking off” on her reaping duties and forced her on soul sorting duty. It was not as unpleasant as most reapers bemoaned it was. Leading souls across the river Styx in a boat was pretty calming, well when they weren't asking a million questions.
So she did that for a while, and then she was sent back to London.
Olya had to wait outside a little bit to find someone to follow who was going into the quaint little travel guide shop sandwiched next to a bookstore.
The door to the shop opened and a little bell chimed.
The person behind the counter, put down the book they had been reading to greet the young woman who had entered the shop.
Olya grinned as she met Arthur's gaze, he looked a little bit older, maybe more time had passed than she had assumed. To her it felt like maybe a week had gone by. They had no concept of the passage of time in the underworld.
Arthur's expression turned to fear as he glanced back at the woman, perusing the maps, some of London, some of the whole of the U.K., and others the entire world.
Her clock was rather short, maybe about thirty minutes or so. Olya didn't think she would spend the entirety of it in here.
“Miss, would you like to have a map on the house?”
The woman blinked, “Really? How generous, I'll take one and buy another.”
Arthur smiled at the woman and Olya took this moment to lean against the counter, while the woman looked through which one to get.
“How generous indeed, a dying woman’s last wish, a free map.”
“I just don't want her dying in here, in front of me.” Arthur whispered, his eyes still on the woman.
“Well time’s running out. Tick-tock, Mister Kirkland.”
Arthur's nails dug into the wood of the counter.
“How about you get both of them on the house? Maybe recommend the shop to your relatives and friends?”
“Is this some kind of promotion or are you…being forward?” Her cheeks were flushed a pale pink.
“I-I Pardon?” Olya could see the base of his neck flushed a darker pink.
Olya did think the woman was attractive, and she supposed if the woman wasn't dying soon she would tell him to go for it. His gaze cut to hers briefly, slight alarm in his eyes.
“I'm being silly,” she shook her head, “Of course not. But in that case I might buy three.”
Olya could see him clench his jaw, “Relax, are you not happy to see me?”
“I don't want people dying around me or in my shop.” He hissed.
“And yet you're comfortable being in the presence of Death, you can't have your cake and eat it too, Arthur.”
“You-!” The woman looked over, eyebrow raised,”You- you know that one is rather popular. Tourism to France is up these days.”
“This is a map of Italy.”
“Oh! I need to get my eyes checked,
The woman furrowed her eyebrows but went back to perusing.
“I think you're making things worse for yourself.” It was fun to tease him, to have him be a little on edge.
Arthur frowned, crossing his arms.
“I can't stay too long, they wouldn't allow me to come back for a while because I visited you so many times.” She continued, sadness in her tone.
“So this is punishment then?” He whispered.
“No, no. I'm just having a little fun. It wasn't your fault…I got a little carried away.”
His gaze dropped to his book on the counter, some sort of romance novel, judging by the two people on the cover.
“I thought maybe I wouldn't see you again for a long time. But I am happy…you're not here for me at least.”
“Me too.”
“Could you at least stop by my home again? I want to show you something, and then I won't keep you any longer.”
“Hmm, I don't know…I don't want to get in trouble again.” Olya tapped her chin.
“I-If not, that's–”
Olya grabbed his arm, “Of course I will.” She then gave his hand a pat, “I can handle my boss.”
She stood up, picking out a postcard just as the woman purchased a map and got her two free ones.
The woman kept sparing Arthur glances and yet he seemed not to notice, his focus elsewhere.
Olya followed her out the door, giving Arthur a thumbs up as he visibly exhaled.
He had about twenty minutes to spare.
~~~~
Arthur led her out back to where he had a flower garden, filled with beautiful red roses. But he also had very tall sunflowers.
“Sunflowers!”
Olya sniffled the flowers, and their smell reminded her of summer and warmth and smiles and laughter.
Reapers were never really showing each other kind gestures, they were more distant coworkers. You also couldn't really grow anything, you didn't need to, everything was magically conjured.
“You didn't have to grow these for me.”
“I didn't! I-I may have picked up some seeds and thought they were interesting. I wanted to liven my garden up a little.” He was coming back from being over by a small tool shed.
“They're beautiful.” Olya embraced him, hugged him maybe a bit too tightly.
Olya stepped back realizing she had slightly overstepped a boundary.
They weren't necessarily close, she'd just hugged him without asking. “Sorry. You're rather reserved aren't you?”
“I-It's fine really.” She could see blush redden his ears as he waved her off. He walked over to one, shears in hand, and proceeded to cut the flowers from their roots.
“Why are you cutting them down?”
He gathered them in a bundle and tied them together with a thin cord of cotton string. He handed them to her, cheeks flushed red, “For you to take with you.”
Olya took them, feeling as though her chest was too tight, as though her heart couldn't fit in her rib cage.
She clutched them to her chest, “You're making it quite hard for me to leave.” Her eyes felt wet.
“Maybe that was my intention.”
Olya frowned, “That's not very nice.” Arthur leaned up, brushing away the tears on her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “I didn't mean to let you see me like this. It's not very reaper-like to cry.”
“You're very unlike any reaper I've ever known, so you shouldn't worry about that.”
“I’m the only reaper you know.”
Arthur let out a snort, a short laugh, and Olya couldn't be too upset.
He couldn't quite reach her face, so she leaned down a little to meet him, as he pressed a soft kiss on her cheek.
“Farewell Olya, for now.”
Foolishly she glanced at his clock, the date slightly nearer. And she knew it would only get worse the longer she stayed.
