PapiTan

Decibitus

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~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI

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Amelia took a long moment to consider her situation. The people were enthused, which was good! Eliot was very unenthused, which was bad. In fact, she was beginning to suspect he might be quite upset with her. At least Aron had played into her scheme masterfully, clearly sharper than she'd given him credit for. Good, and refreshing, to have a partner on her same wavelength.

"...worry not, dear Eliot! I can explain." She grinned widely, hopping off the table and patting the poll box with a nod to her fellow reapers. "You see, the rail is not running, and so the newcomers are walking. We discovered this on our way to find Miss Death, who confirmed it to us, because we are your most resourceful team."

"And as I was saying, our dearest MD wishes to speak with the Necromancer, for he might have the knowledge to end this rail crisis ahead of time." Amelia shrugged. "She asked us to see if other reapers might agree, and so, democracy is the obvious solution. Though, for the record, I think we should refuse and take the FUN OPTION!"

Her voice raised, as to be heard at the end of that sentence. Reverse psychology required commitment. At least she knew the other two would know what she was doing.

"No. N-no! I am not involved in this!"

Aron hurried to his desk as soon as Amelie's shoes left them, assessing the damage and brushing off crusted mud from the deep creases of his documents. He looked to Eliot pleadingly.

"The boss just needs to meet the Necromancer to discuss the situation. I don't... I don't know what this is!" He flapped a wild gesture towards Amelie.

"Democracy is at its best when implemented suddenly, with passion." Amelia looked to Eliot, not even approaching apologetic. "She wanted our opinions: it's an urgent matter, and this was the fastest method."

There were a number of thoughts that Elliot had in that moment. It was hard to choose which thread to follow, so he chose to sigh instead. Mochi, on the other hand, took to pawing at the shoes of the reapers before him for entertainment while his assistant was busy with such a choice.

"Right. Can you... go back a few steps here?" So they'd found Miss Death... which was good. They hadn't brought her back, but that was another problem entirely. "Miss Death thinks the Necromancer will--you know what? I'll work my way up to that one. People are deciding to walk the rail? Who... How did you find that out? Are there more people trying to do this?"

"I dunno, it's what the kid at Uchi's place said. Hu...go...?" Aron crossed his arms, trying to scuttle away from Mochi. Argh, he still had those cookies in his pocket too. Now was not the time!

"I named him Hugo. It was a good name for him." Amelia nodded, before crouching down to pick up Mochi in both, very seriously addressing the dog as she held him up, "but yes. The strange blond child mentioned it, before he let us in to Uchi's shop. I would have found his real name, but there was free food. You understand, no, Mister Mayor?"

The mayor in question gave a 'wuff' and wagged his tail with gusto, his nose wriggling as he sniffed the air--no doubt trying to find the source of a particularly tantalizing scent.

His assistant, on the other hand, looked entirely like he might like to defenestrate himself.

"I... will have to ask Uchi about this er... 'Hugo' later, then. Nobody's tried walking the rail since Miss Death as far as I know. I can't imagine they'll be successful." He really, really wished that he could put off the next topic by about a thousand years, if possible. Eliot took a moment to carefully piece his next question together. "And... regarding the Necromancer. Does Miss Death really want to talk to him?"

There was a note of desperation not often found in the man's voice, one that carried all his dread at the answer he was entirely expecting.

Aron simply scratched the back of his head. His mouth twisted into a grimace instead of offering an answer.

"If they do speak, can I watch? I'll be quiet."

If one were perceptive, they might have seen the corner of Eliot's lips twitch. If one wasn't perceptive, they probably still would have seen the moment where a chill crawled down his spine, taking much of the color from his face with it.

He didn't want to admit it, but Miss Death might have been on the right path.

"Absolutely not." He really, really didn't want to admit it. "I mean, I--that's... maybe? This isn't--I mean, at least she wouldn't be alone?"

It wasn't like anyone could stop the woman if she really wanted to go. Whether he meant Amelia or Miss Death was hard to determine.

"Huh." Aron blinked. "Is that... kind of a 'yes'?"

The look on Eliot's face could only be described as a strained grimace.

"Frankly, I don't have the authority to stop Miss Death if she wants to do something. Or the power." The brunette tried very, very hard to ignore the fact that Mochi probably did have the authority he needed. "She's just being considerate in not doing it without asking."

Amelia looked far too happy about all of this, lifting Mochi a little higher in celebration before returning him to the floor. "And I can go too? This is why you're my second-favourite boss, Eliot! Can I bring Mochi?"

"No. Mochi's not going anywhere near the Depths," Eliot said while protectively nudging the corgi behind him with his leg at the thought. "And if--that's a major if--she ends up going, it will be with a full team of reapers on standby."

He frowned as a thought occurred to him.

"You know, after Uchi inevitably guts everyone involved like a fish for letting it happen first."

"Eh, we'll get better." Amelia shrugged off the possibility with remarkable ease, "so, are we still doing democracy? I have a very good speech lined up."

Aron looked to Eliot. "Please say no."

The man opened his mouth to speak, but his answer was drowned out by the sudden and thunderous sound of someone slamming into the doorframe, blonde hair flung fecklessly in the wake of the collision. The impact didn't so much as phase Sigrun--rather, the doorframe looked to have taken more damage than the girl herself.

"Bad news in Paris! Like, totes bad!" Sigrun pointed at the two reapers in the room. "You two! Arch! Now! Take stickers!"

She raised a hand to quiet Eliot's immediate objection.

"Ban doesn't matter right now, they need more reapers like, ten minutes ago!"

The grin that immediately spread across Amelia's face was borderline maniacal as she grabbed a sticker, "Siggy, if I had money, I would owe you a lot of drinks, but Eliot will have to cover it."

With a whoop of excitement that doubtless quelled everyone's fears, Amelia set off towards the Arch at a breakneck pace.

"Umm. Ahh." Aron's head whipped between Eliot and the after image of Amelia. "Thanks, Siggy, cute stickers, bye!"

He raced after the other reaper, though not before remembering to hurriedly toss the sleeve of cookies at Mochi's feet.

This day couldn't get any more frantic.

Decibitus

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~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI

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There were certain things that Elliot was getting used to while on the premises of Lucema Regini, most of which were things that he was entirely certain he shouldn’t be getting used to. Still, Miss Death had never been picky in her hires. Over the course of time, of course there would be a few odd reapers here or there, and of course the vocal few tended to stand out more than the silent majority.

And then there were the ones with such telltale signs of the problematic ones. Telltale signs like the sound of yelling in French and a number of desk jockeys or off-duty reapers starting to gather in a very specific location. That was most certainly a specific sign of a specific individual.

Elliot sighed before he could stop himself, pressing the fingers of one hand to his temple, applying enough pressure to pretend the mounting migraine wouldn’t come to pass. Mochi, however, gave an excited snuffle, paws tapping against the floor in response to the tension in the air.

“Okay. Okay.”

It was certainly not okay. It was so far from okay that Elliot almost wished Miss Death’s magic wasn’t at work, translating every word coming out of Amelia’s mouth as she stood on some commandeered desk.

“Amelia.”

She kept going.

”Amelia.”

What did she mean Miss Death wanted to speak with the Necromancer? And why was the alternative being offered somehow even less appealing?

“Amelia!”

At last, the woman looked in his direction, but before Elliot could open his mouth to speak, the situation got worse. Between the clamoring of the workers over the spectacle and the concerned whispers, there was the other one that had gone to find Miss Death. And he was right, things were already hectic without following Amelia’s advice. Hectic enough that--

“Wait, what?!”

But Elliot’s exclamation was lost to the crowd as a surge of noise rose in a cresting wave as tensions rose in conjunction with excitement. The situation was going to get out of hand—no, understatement, it was already out of hand. Sighing deeply to himself, Elliot buried his face in his hands for a moment, grudgingly acknowledging what he had to do next if he wanted to get any semblance of answers from a single damn person in the room.

“ ≪ QUIET DOWN. ≫” The Vertan words carried despite Elliot hardly speaking any louder than the commotion, largely because where they traveled, a forced silence followed. It was a short-lived spell, one that was well practiced but rarely used. The moment of quiet did its job in stunning the majority of the crowd into a speechless stupor. Which was fine. Enough. He just had to ask his question.

…

There were so many questions.

“Where exactly is Miss Death?” No, that wasn’t the one he really needed to know. He could figure from what was being said. “Wait, no, what in the world are you talking about raising the tension? And what do you mean people are walking the rail?”

Finding his anxieties growing with each word, Elliot pressed his hand to his temple again.

“I sent you to find Miss Death, how did that end up with this?”

---

@banjoanjo@Lasrever

Decibitus

With my ass finally posting that collab/update-ish combo wombo, the mod prod counter starts again!
Because I was particularly slow with this set, anything that was done past the prior timer will count for this period, but y'all have been pretty good at keeping up even without the prods, so this is really just a formality lol

The next mod prod is scheduled for March 24, 2023. As usual, we will try to push it as late as possible, but depending on availability, the prod may occur sooner.

Decibitus

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~???? | DECIBITUS | LIGENA FATI

---

There was, undoubtedly, an appropriate way to approach this. Keeping one's head under the radar was an intelligent approach to most things, particularly as they concerned prisons one had little business going into, at least if television had taught Amelia anything worthwhile.

She was very aware of the sense of unease that hung over the Depths, of the spectre of final death that haunted the building. Execution. A gun to the head, or some such, and gone. Her hand hovered over her revolver for a moment, and she smiled to herself. She was no killer, but something about this place and the dangers within was... enticing. If anything, that unease made her more eager to approach.

More interesting than such thoughts, though, was the figure out front. Amelia was always happy to see the boss, and whistled to get her attention and distract her before she could go in. As ever, it didn't seem to occur to her that her approach to Miss Death might actually be the odd one.

"We've been looking for you everywhere!" Amelia grinned, displaying nowhere near the levels of formality, respect, or fear that were warranted, "what's been going on, MD? Important business? Unimportant business? Business your most charming and talented reaper can help with?"

Aron, strategically positioned behind Amelia, stuck his head out with a furtive motion. He coughed. "Hi."

If Miss Death was surprised, it failed to show on her face as she turned to face her reapers. Granted, that was the norm for the pink-haired woman, but that certainly didn't make things better.

"Ah. Hello. To both of you." Miss Death gave a small nod of her head to acknowledge the reapers' presence. "I lack the knowledge to say if my business is important. But circumstances make it irrelevant for now. It may behoove me to request your insights on the matter."

A pause as she seemed to process the rest of Amelia's words, and the woman tilted her head slightly to one side.

"Is my presence required somewhere? Observing the cells can be delayed."

"Eliot was looking for the usual run-down of new arrivals..." Amelia mulled it over for a moment before continuing, "so yes, but I don't think it's that urgent. He'll not be happy if we come back without you, though, so mind if we stick around? I'm sure we'll have some insights. Maybe even good ones!"

"I mean..." Aron's brain was revving as desperately as it could. "I dunno how valuable our opinions would be. Neither of us have been to jail before apparently."

"Apparent-- can you at least try to sound like you believe that?"

"Honesty has its value," Miss Death said. "Experience in imprisonment is irrelevent, though. My concerns are with thoughts of ones who lived."

She paused, a hand brought to her chin in thought for a moment, her stare lingering on something unseen again. Then, she shut her eyes and turned back to the prison's entrance.

"If you wish accompany me, I will not stop you. There will be no issues."

Without giving much time for response, the pink-haired woman stepped through the entrance of the prison.

"At least you know I've got good thoughts, MD." Amelia sighed wistfully, watching her turn away from them before grabbing Aron's sleeve and beginning to follow her in, hoping to drag him along. "Come on, new buddy. I'll pay you back... somehow."

"I'm gonna say it now, I also don't take IOUs," he grumbled. Considering that his only other option was arguing with his co-worker right in front of the boss, Aron glumly allowed himself to be led in. Maybe with Miss Death around, Amelia would be a little more manageable. And who knows, maybe ghost prisons were not significantly worse than normal prisons!

Woe be it to Aron that ghost prisons--abandoned ghost prisons--were significantly worse than normal prisons in many ways. After all, it was a prison where the only end result was, ostensibly, death.

And "death" hung heavy in the air, oppressive in its weight despite the distinct lack of any signs of it.

Miss Death's pace was steady as they passed empty cells. Of course they were outdated, far from the marvel of prisons in the modern day. Most cells showed no signs of having been inhabited in recent times, but the ones that did were starkly out of place. Only after passing a first few sets did the pink-haired woman glance back to her reapers, her steps coming to a slow halt.

"I have been told by others that this place is unnerving. Sorry. To make you come in like this."

Amelia had been looking towards one of the more recently-occupied cells, expression hard to read past some basic level of curiosity. At Miss Death's words, she glanced over to her, tilting her head. It was hard to know what exactly to say, sometimes, but she could try.

"You didn't make me, and I made him. If there were executions happening right now, the story might be different, but," she shrugged, trying her best to keep a brave face, "eh. I won't say I've seen worse, but I'd follow you through another level or two of creepy."

Although she couldn't speak for Aron, she did glance towards the man. "How about you? Holding up okay?"

Aron snapped out of a disassociative stare to regard Amelia with a flat look. She was trying to rub it in now, huh.

"Whatever. Could be worse."

The distant stare from Miss Death lingered again for a moment longer before turning to the nearest cell.

"...then we will go no further than the end of the hall." Quiet words, but firm in their assertion. "Any deeper is... worse. Even before it became empty."

The pink-haired woman looked forward again and continued her walk.

"But. There are no others to hear invasive thoughts in this place, if you have questions." She looked into another cell with the faintest traces of being lived in left behind, but didn't stop walking. "Questions like what you think of the necromancer far beneath our feet."

"Why is it he can't be killed? Unmade, whatever." Amelia wasn't the sort to beat around the bush. She raised a hand to forestall the obvious answer. "Yeah, I know, 'powerful necromancer', but that seems too simple. Plenty of damned powerful things and people have still ended, haven't they? What makes him different? It seems like there'd have to be a trick to it."

"Hm." Such was the first answer. A small, vocal utterance carrying the weight of more thoughts than should be contained in a single syllable. It led well into the next. "We do not know. The first attempt should not have failed."

Miss Death didn't stop walking, though she did adjust her position, slightly, to look at Amelia and Aron as opposed to the cells for a moment.

"Now they are too frightened to try again. I do not think they are wrong to be."

The thought of someone so dangerous and unkillable made Aron wince. "Did you come here for him? Or some other thing that'd make the guard super iffy?"

An uncertain pause came first.

"I did come for him. He has long asked for a direct meeting with me. Circumstances make that seem a good option." Miss Death's expression shifted to one of confusion, as best it could. "But I would not know if that would make the guard... 'iffy?'"

"It means uneasy. Worried. Like-- like Eliot after most of our conversations. So probably. He scares everyone," and so do you, though Amelia didn't say it, "and if he wants to meet with you... he gets something from it, no? Wouldn't make sense otherwise. There's a certain thrill to the idea of such a conversation, no doubt, but somehow I don't think that's why you'd be doing it, so... what are these circumstances, to make this meeting desirable now?"

"The rail's failure." Miss Death came to a stop as the end of the hallway came into view. "We are at a loss. He possesses ingenuity that could prove insightful. Others wish not to acknowledge that he far outstrips even my talents for this issue. I do not blame them."

"So... are you doing that now?" Aron asked. Hopefully not with the two of them in tow. "I didn't think you'd need, uh, permission."

"Would you not be bothered if one like me forced such actions?"

"Wait, that stuff bothers people?" Amelia frowned, as if on the verge of a realisation, then shrugged it off. "Eh. I wouldn't mind if you did."

Aron had to stop himself from drilling another flat stare at Amelia, answering the boss' question instead. "...It'll pass, I guess. This seems important."

"You are both too accepting." Miss Death shook her head lightly. "I have no desire to offer you to risk for a self-made whim. But. I believe you may be able to aid me in another way."

"I'll do it." Amelia spoke quickly, before pausing. "What is it, though?"

"If it's within our ability, yeah."

"See if other reapers might agree with the idea. Gaining permission may be easier if others were to suggest it." A pause. "If you cannot. I will find a way to handle it without involving anyone else."

"You need us to get people on board with it? Sure. How hard can it be? I'm a fantastic negotiator. One of my many talents." Amelia winked at her. "Better than making you handle it all on your own, right?"

"I..." The thought of Amelia inflicting one of her 'negotiations' on other innocent reapers made Aron shiver. "We'll get the word out. Definitely."

"You have my gratitude." Miss Death bowed her head, before her attention returned back down the hall she'd set as their limit. "Someone is here. It would be best for you to return outside. If you have more to ask, I will be out soon."

Amelia watched her turn away, and got halfway towards making another comment before a look of dawning realisation crossed her face. Shutting her mouth (for once) she nodded, turned on her heel, and moved to leave at a fairly rapid pace.

She figured Aron would follow her. For safety, if nothing else.

---

NOTES

Hider

• With this, the initial phase of this investigation has technically concluded.
• Players involved in this phase may choose how they wish to tackle the information they currently have--whether that is immediately starting with the task Miss Death has given them, waiting to chat it up with her again, or otherwise.
• If any part of the player plans require major NPC interaction, please ping @PapiTan for the time being!

@Lasrever@banjoanjo

Decibitus

Running a bit late with my update because I am a lame-o loser who gets distracted easily--

The next modprod is scheduled for March 7, 2023. As usual, it is scheduled for as late as possible in the day, but may be pushed to an earlier evening hour based on the availability of the GMs.

Decibitus

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~???? | DECIBITUS | LIGENA FATI

---

Rumors were always floating around Decibitus regarding the Depths, but there were few and far that ever approached the prison. After all, who wanted to be around the only place that people seemed to really die in the city? A place where people who were simply too vile in the grand scheme of things to be allowed to make their peace was hardly where the average person wanted to spend the day. It stood to reason that such a reputation was exactly why the immediate area was quiet, the lack of ambient sound making typical white noise almost deafening.

Or perhaps it was the knowledge that at some point, Ligena Fati must have been packed with villains and that the appearance of a single woman was enough to change that reality into something starkly different. Now it remained a labyrinth of empty cells for the sake of a single existence buried far out of sight and out of mind.

But what did that matter to a modern reaper? After all, it was often the veterans that took on the mantle of executioner.

Though whether such thoughts entered Amelia’s or Aron’s heads as they approached the remnant of a time long past was anyone’s guess, especially not when it appeared their target had yet to enter the prison properly. Instead, she seemed to be having a conversation with the guard–one that was easy to hear even from a distance despite Miss Death’s usual soft volume.

The familiar, pink-haired woman gazed at the current guard to the prison with an expression that looked better suited for a statue. Her gaze was equal parts unfaltering and unsettling, and for that, a shudder passed down the guard’s spine again. At least, that was what a combination of experience and logic told Miss Death as she politely chose to ignore the reaction. Apparently, as Uchi pointed out in their last meeting, people didn’t appreciate when she asked if she should retreat to a safer distance. She understood the direction, but the reasoning was harder to follow.

Then again, maybe they felt more inclined to hide it for her benefit.

She filed that particular thought away in the back of her head for later.

“Um, Miss Death, I get where you’re coming from, but I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” the guard stumbled over his words, small motions telling her more than his voice. Uncomfortable. Nervous. It was far from an unusual response. “And even if it’s you, I reaaaaally think that it’d be better if you got official clearance for it.”

“That is not going to happen. We are both aware of this truth.” Miss Death tilted her head slightly, her gaze looking somewhere beyond where the guard was standing. “His existence draws even greater dread than I. None wish to acknowledge this. I will not be granted my request.”

“Uhh…” The guard scratched the back of his head for a moment, looking like he needed someone to swoop in to save the day. “I, uhhh… I mean… Look, I don’t think I can just let you in.”

“Hm. Acceptable. I am asking for too much.”

“No! I mean, it’s–we’d both get in lots of trouble, and I–”

Miss Death raised a hand, the softening of her expression both uncanny and unnerving in the absence of any trace of a smile on her face.

“You need not worry. You are fulfilling your duty, and that is not something you must justify,” the woman stated. “Thank you for hearing my request. I hope next time you might sate your curiosity.”

The guard fidgeted uncomfortably as he gave a response that came off as more unintelligible than anything else, but Miss Death bowed her head to him nonetheless, as though oblivious to his distress.

“I will conduct my usual examination of the other cells before I leave.”

---

NOTES

Hider

• As usual, please feel free to write out anything leading up to the scene at hand.
• Miss Death is within line of sight–that also means both reapers are within her line of sight once she turns around.
• If you decide to try and play it stealthy, please let @PapiTan know so a value can be generated for any required checks!
• The guard will not chase anyone away, assuming nobody tries to bum rush directly into the prison in plain sight.
• Both Amelia and Aron should be aware that Miss Death absolutely has the position/authority to force the issue of her request.

@Lasrever@banjoanjo

Decibitus

For consistency, as usual, the modprod post will also be made in the ooc.

The next modprod is scheduled for February 23, 2023. As usual, it is scheduled for as late as possible in the day, but may be pushed to an earlier evening hour based on the availability of the GMs.

Decibitus

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~???? | DECIBITUS | MALUCH PRAETI

---

Mulch was uncharacteristically crowded, though it couldn’t be helped with how many people were entering Decibitus with no way out. Normally vacant streets were lined with those still in denial about their fates–or perhaps they were simply trying to find a way to ease the frustrations. Whether they were souls that were freshly deceased or ones that wanted nothing more than to move on was hard to tell. Makeshift shops were still open, small crowds gathering around the ones with substances that might raise some eyebrows. Others offered themselves in ways that one couldn’t back on Earth–or perhaps they could, if they weren’t looking out for themselves.

It was almost odd. Before its development, nobody cared much about the stretch of land that Maluch Praeti now occupied. Then, as half-finished buildings remained abandoned and weathered, people began to gather. Perhaps it was simply the allure of a place that was paid no mind that drew those who needed their services and wares to be ignored–not that the authorities would do more than a slap on the wrist for most.

“Bones for sale.”

“Fresh parts.”

“HPh.”

Signs littered the floor, a mixture of scents both vile and alluring hanging thick in the air. Had it been on Earth, surely people would have been more cautious about approaching, but somehow a sense of order remained. It was especially true of the route toward Uchi’s workshop. Compared to the outer edges or, for those brave enough, deeper areas of Mulch, Uchi’s workshop remained in a space that lacked the same sense of quiet made of furtive whispers that shouldn’t be overheard.

Today, however, it seemed that it traded the usual noise for an eerie emptiness, a mere handful of people present in the would-be alley. Some, of course, were out of place, clearly present because they didn’t know better. However, a boy leaned forward against a half-finished wall as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by the sight of an unlikely duo. For a moment he tilted his head, confusion evident on his face, before a wicked grin formed.

“Hey, hey! You guys here to try and pick up junk from the old nag’s shop?” The blonde swung his legs over the wall, landing in the duo’s path with a practiced motion before cocking his head toward the crude written sign hanging on Uchi’s door.

Work in progress.

“That guy doesn’t hear it when ya knock whenever that sign’s up, but I can pick the lock for a few solbits.” The cheeky grin only grew in size as the boy leaned back on his heels. “He’s had a stick up his ass ever since those guys said they were gonna try walking the rail, so he deserves it anyways.”

---

NOTES

• Feel free to write out any parts leading up through the moment as desired!

@banjoanjo@Lasrever

Decibitus

And with the update, the next modprod counter begins!

The next modprod is scheduled for February 15, 2023.

As usual, I will try to push the prod as late as possible, but it may be pushed to an earlier evening hour depending on the availability of the GMs.

Decibitus

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~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI

---

It didn’t take long for someone to enter the lobby, though the smile that crossed Elliot’s features–in the form of the slightest twitch of the corner of his mouth–wasn’t exactly what one could call “pleased” in any form of the word. He knew Amelia well. Too well, considering she was but one of the reapers employed at Lucema Regini. Even before his increasingly frequent visits to the building with the sudden failure of the Departure Rail, she had been…

‘A disaster in motion.’

Mochi, however, gave a yip of glee, even as he scrambled off to god-knew-where. That was probably for the better, though Elliot was certain that the little dog would demand his offering of cheese after his curiosity had been sated.

“Ah, yes, I can think of no better place for you to be than in a crowded, glass room suspended dozens of meters off the ground floor with an unpredictable outcome looming overhead,” the mayor’s assistant said with no shortage of sarcasm. He didn’t bother catching himself with it–Amelia had visited enough times with hopes of walking Mochi that he’d found the front of extreme civility wasn’t doing either of them favors. “But as luck would have it, you might be one of the few that can help at the moment.”

Glancing back toward the way he’d come, the brunette turned back to face Amelia with a small, helpless shrug of his shoulders.

“I came to ask Miss Death for her usual oversight on the yesterday’s arrivals to the city, but she seems to have slipped out of her office.” Which was odd, in and of itself. Miss Death wasn’t the type to leave her quarters and even less likely to do so without giving anyone forewarning. “You talk to her more than the typical reaper, right? Any chance she let slip that she had a meeting somewhere? Maybe with Uchi?”

Elsewhere, Mochi was haphazardly pawing up at Aron’s hand, his nose wriggling in the air to catch the scent of some sweet treat being held out. Though his head was turned to the reaper, the canine’s eyes kept darting back to his owner and Amelia, tail wagging and feet pattering on the floor with a sort of impatient apprehension usually reserved for young children waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve.

Then, a light of mischief that seemed far, far too human for any dog to attain came to life in the corgi’s eyes.

He dropped back to the floor with a soft tap.

“Worf! Worf worf!”

Then, a set of tiny, terrible teeth was at work, Mochi’s small-but-mighty frame tugging at any part of Aron’s shoe that he could latch onto to try and drag the much-larger reaper toward Elliot and Amelia. The force was hardly anything to write home about, but the dog’s excitement meant missed nips and an overeager snout ramming into Aron’s shin with each attempted yank.

After all, Amelia meant he was going to get cheese! And he could still get the cookies if he brought the snack man with him!

---

NOTES

• Feel free to ping @PapiTan for a collab to make conversational bits smoother!
• Sorry, Aron.

@banjoanjo@Lasrever