But still I am Lady☆Death

In contrast, Grell was far from naive. She’d passed through outrage at human nature before she’d even died, moved into jaded cynicism afterwards, and over the past century had taught herself to live somewhere between amused and apathetic. Only a few things could sincerely break through her façade now. Things like children and young lovers.

She wanted to know so much more about her. Everything fascinated her, but it wasn’t everyday she came across someone like her. “There are lovely things here–so much life.” She squinted her eyes in happiness, cheeks rosy. She still had the behavior of a human, as she was human a very short time ago.

“What about you? I don’t suppose your kind need to eat, do they?” Grell knew, of course, that reapers needed sleep and occasional food, and that demons didn’t sleep and only ate souls; but she knew far less about the needs of angels. Most sources she’d found claimed that angels could eat bread, but didn’t say if they needed to, much less whether they ate anything else.

“Yes… it is rough.” She glanced past Charity at the humans hurrying by–the men with their eyes pointed purposefully forward, the occasional woman forced to stay close to her male escort or else to keep her gaze lowered–and for a moment, she scowled bitterly. She had to drag her gaze away from the humans. “That never changes.”

“At least almost all people are good, right?” Her eyes sparkled, still so innocent and untouched by the hand of reality. She really enjoyed talking to her, as she seemed like a personality she could get along with with.

In contrast, Grell was far from naive. She’d passed through outrage at human nature before she’d even died, moved into jaded cynicism afterwards, and over the past century had taught herself to live somewhere between amused and apathetic. Only a few things could sincerely break through her façade now. Things like children and young lovers.

Hah–so this angel was ambitious. Grell understood that. She smiled again–this time more genuinely, her threatening teeth less prominent. “I’m hoping for a promotion myself. If you ever need any help while you’re here, feel free to ask for me. I’ve been in London longer than you. And us working ladies have to stick together, you know?” If this angel was here on official heavenly business, then she was no threat to the reapers. Fallen angels were trouble; but true angels and reapers all ultimately worked for the same boss. Helping each other would be mutually beneficial. “My name’s Grell Sutcliff. Yours?”

“Good to meet–you, Grell Sutcliff. Yes, us women need to stick together. It is rough out here for us in this world.” She had seen all the misogyny in the human realm against women, which wasn’t present in the Overworld. She desperately wanted to join the women’s suffrage for the right to vote…even if angels took no interest in human politics.

“Yes... it is rough.” She glanced past Charity at the humans hurrying by--the men with their eyes pointed purposefully forward, the occasional woman forced to stay close to her male escort or else to keep her gaze lowered--and for a moment, she scowled bitterly. She had to drag her gaze away from the humans. “That never changes.”

“I–like England. The people here are fun to look at.” Her words were broken down, but they had improved in the weeks she had been here. She was sent down to spy on the demonic activity occuring in a certain household in England. As it turned out, Charity was a terrible spy. She didn’t want to give away her true identity just yet, so she went for little detail. “I am from Jordan. I am here for…business.” This was not a lie.

Jordan, huh? Grell had never even heard of the place. Her knowledge of world geography was limited. (For all she knew, maybe “Jordan” was a neighborhood in heaven.) “Business. Sent by your boss?” She glanced pointedly upward, making clear that she knew exactly where her “boss” was located. “I’m usually in London on business, myself.”

“I was indeed sent by–a boss. I have a lot off bosses, but one day I want to be a boss…” Her eyes twinkled with youth, still having ambition.

Hah--so this angel was ambitious. Grell understood that. She smiled again–this time more genuinely, her threatening teeth less prominent. “I’m hoping for a promotion myself. If you ever need any help while you’re here, feel free to ask for me. I’ve been in London longer than you. And us working ladies have to stick together, you know?” If this angel was here on official heavenly business, then she was no threat to the reapers. Fallen angels were trouble; but true angels and reapers all ultimately worked for the same boss. Helping each other would be mutually beneficial. “My name’s Grell Sutcliff. Yours?”

Which was why, instead of continuing straight on to her next target after reaping the worker, she was roaming the empty halls of the castle, glowing green eyes searching eagerly for any sign of the royal specters.

The ghost’s eyes fluttered open again, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a flash of red down the hallway. He stood up, holding the skull close to himself, both for protection and in protection. He stood his ground, not wanting to get any further towards the stranger.

“Well, hello there,” she cooed. Based on his size, that was definitely a child. If he was one of the two ghosts Grell was looking for, that would make him Richard rather than Edward. He definitely was a ghost, though. They had a glow about them, and they smelled different from humans. “What’s your name~?”

“M-my name’s Richard… a-are you one of the mean workers who wanna take our house away?” the ghost questioned, knowing full well that Grell had other intentions.

So instead of doing what she knew she was supposed to do, she knelt down in front of the ghost, so she didn’t tower over him, and said, “No, I’m not one of the workers. My name’s Grell.”

“B-but your eyes… they’re scary…”

Grell wrapped up the uneaten portion of her bloody snack, and quietly trailed after the angel. If London was about to have angel trouble again, she should report it to Dispatch. If nothing else, William would be grateful of the head’s up before they were inundated in more overtime.

“May—May—I assist you?” Charity managed to say, her thick accent very hard to understand. She seemed to be following her. Hopefully, she was harmless.

Jordan, huh? Grell had never even heard of the place. Her knowledge of world geography was limited. (For all she knew, maybe "Jordan" was a neighborhood in heaven.) "Business. Sent by your boss?" She glanced pointedly upward, making clear that she knew exactly where her "boss" was located. "I'm usually in London on business, myself."

“I beg to differ. Being with you doesn’t sound better than anything else in this world.”

Which was why, instead of continuing straight on to her next target after reaping the worker, she was roaming the empty halls of the castle, glowing green eyes searching eagerly for any sign of the royal specters.

The ghost’s eyes fluttered open again, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a flash of red down the hallway. He stood up, holding the skull close to himself, both for protection and in protection. He stood his ground, not wanting to get any further towards the stranger.

“Well, hello there,” she cooed. Based on his size, that was definitely a child. If he was one of the two ghosts Grell was looking for, that would make him Richard rather than Edward. He definitely was a ghost, though. They had a glow about them, and they smelled different from humans. “What’s your name~?”

“M-my name’s Richard… a-are you one of the mean workers who wanna take our house away?” the ghost questioned, knowing full well that Grell had other intentions.

So instead of doing what she knew she was supposed to do, she knelt down in front of the ghost, so she didn't tower over him, and said, "No, I'm not one of the workers. My name's Grell."

Grell wrapped up the uneaten portion of her bloody snack, and quietly trailed after the angel. If London was about to have angel trouble again, she should report it to Dispatch. If nothing else, William would be grateful of the head’s up before they were inundated in more overtime.

“May—May—I assist you?” Charity managed to say, her thick accent very hard to understand. She seemed to be following her. Hopefully, she was harmless.

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((this is the frigging TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY, why is this even still an issue??)

“Why in the heavens am I sold to a shinigami?”

Pros: he can make people hurt you cry, perfect, charming looks, bakes cakes Cons: asshole-ism and eats your soul before you die

     SOLD.

Pros: he can make people hurt you cry, perfect, charming looks, bakes cakes Cons: asshole-ism and eats your soul before you die