pretty mundane, mostly the next chapter is called 'humbert pedro iii' and it's a hoot --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- trigger warnings: none --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - A LONG, WINDING ROAD The Stars were full and happy; of normal times, this would be perhaps the best thing possible, especially for the inhabitants of the Aether. But these times, certainly, were not the most normal. Helia clicked her pen twice, sighing with something of boredom. As long as she continued to forget the name of the person she was signing over halfway through the papers, the stupendous piles in front of her were not going to get smaller. All these people who never got their contracts - what a messy business. She had never seen this much work in her incredibly long life - even in the greatest massacres and wars, all the people just signed their papers and moved on, nothing to fill out, and all she had to do was scribble a bit on the bottom line. Bam - welcome to Hell! She didn’t understand why she had to meet with these people, either. If she was being honest, the best solution (alias the one that caused the least work on her part) was to just shove the papers over and say Hey, sign this! You have to. That usually worked. But her new sister had insisted, and even sort-of-family was still family. The God of Hell groaned and slid down in her chair. “Jenny,” she moaned, “I can’t do all this.” Now there was a woman sitting across from her, her pale face still with a hint of exasperation. She brushed a strand of black hair from her face, mixing it with the white. “You have to,” the new arrival said. “And honestly, out of all the mortal names?” Helia sniffed. “Well, I’m not going around calling you Sex Appeal. You look like a Jenny.” Jenny put her beautiful head in her hands. “Lust. It’s Lust.” “Exactly!” “How many have you done?” Pulling up a chair out of nowhere, Jenny sat down across from her, frowning and resting on her steepled fingers. Helia grimaced. "Is it very bad if the answer to that question is in the single digits?" Jenny stared for a second, then leaned back in her chair, defeated. “Honestly, Hele, you're a lost cause." “I can't be!" Helia said, panicked. “I've got a job! They can't fire me, right?" She fanned the contracts in her lap. “Can they?" Honestly, she was insufferable, Jenny thought to herself. Endearing as always, but insufferable. Though she was quite attractive, with pinkish lips somehow always twisted in confusion and fluorescent hair framing her face, Helia had rather large, unsettling eyes that seemed to stare straight into your soul - which, of course, they did. This was to be expected from the God of Hell, though, and the poor girl tried her hardest to make up for it by being friendly and warm to all she came across. Overall, she was a sweet God, perhaps the warmest of the sisters, and was adored by all working under her. This was one of the many reasons Jenny loved her so much, even when her stare chilled her soul - and when she was pouty, like now. “No, they definitely can't." The girl deflated, relaxing. “Thank whoever. I'd honestly started to think that I had forgotten some rule or another, and then I started to forget why I thought that -" She stopped, staring. “I'm rambling again, aren't I?" Jenny sat silently and gave her a look. “I've been trying to work on that, I promise!" Helia said, turning to give Jenny a beseeching gaze as she pretended to assess the papers, as she had done many times already in some force of procrastination. “Will you help me?" Now the Demon smiled, amused. “I wouldn’t even if I could.” Helia pouted. This sour expression didn’t last long, as always, turning swiftly to giggles. “Bye-bye, Jenny.” Jenny stood, pushing in the chair for visitors. “Bye, Hele.” And now she was gone, and there was work to be done. “Ack, what was her name? Ella? Evelyn? Emily?” (cont)
(cont) After what had been assessed to as her little tantrum by Beelzebub, who had apparently seen the entire thing and had promptly been kicked by Gabriel (wearing tap shoes, for an unknown reason), Emilia had laid there on the damp grass, shoes stomping around her and on her hair. She was too numb to process any of the people around her, the sounds hitting like buzzing around her ears. At some time she had attempted to sit up, but had been knocked right back down by a mixture of exhaustion and someone else’s shin. And then suddenly, she fell through the ground. She was standing up now, dizzy on her feet in the middle of a blank white space. It had the exact energy and make of a waiting room, though it didn’t quite look like one. “Like it?” came a vaguely familiar voice from behind her. “I hear minimalism is in style. But I haven’t quite had the chance to get feedback from actual humans." Emilia spun around, nearly falling over. It wasn’t a particularly fast spin, she just happened to be that unbalanced. A voice was put to a foggy face and she recognised the white-haired girl from the crowd by the barrier. She was sitting happily behind a white desk with her fingers laced and her legs crossed, a mountain of paper toppling over behind her. She ignored it casually, and a chair appeared on the opposing side of the desk. “Well?” she said, nodding at the chair. “Are you going to sit? I mean, if you’re going to just stand there and hold up the line, I’m fine with that, but everyone behind you might get a little annoyed.” Emilia flushed bright red and dashed up meekly, sitting down as fast as she could. She’d learned by this point not to question anything that happened to her, and just to go along with everyone else, as they all seemed to know exactly what they were doing and all ended up giving her that awful look that said well? Are you coming along? in some way or another. And she had to just hurry up and learn on the spot. The girl pulled out a packet and shuffled through it, biting her lip. “Well, seems like you lived a pretty sad life! You’ll fit right in.” She said this with a radiant smile on her face quite unfitting of the situation. “Um. Thank you,” Emilia responded. “Pretty simple, pretty simple,” she continued to herself. “Well, nothing big to sort out. Just go ahead and sign on the dotted line down there. Make sure to read the fine print.” No one ever read the fine print, but Helia always told them to. In the event that someone actually did, she had put in there that they were now free to go along to Heaven. But no one ever had. Emilia took the paper, skipped the fine print, and signed with the pen that was suddenly in her hand. And then she was really, truly dead. At least, according to the contract. Helia let out another dragging moan. More paperwork to do, then.
