Song: Get Scared~ Deepest Cut
Second Person POV:
Standing in the doorway, you looked about the shop and then straight back to the grey haired mortician. You needed to know why your arm was healed and what seemed so quickly at that. With his back turned you made your approach, realising he must be working on a body of some sort. As you quietly neared ever closer, as if not to startle the man, you peered inside the carefully gilded coffin. Then once your eyes laid upon the corpse; they widened. A single tear of fear, panic and hardened envy fell from one of your glassy green eyes. Falling deeper and deeper into the depths of years of sawdust, dust and grime. Consumed in the memory- you broke.
Memory:
Before you stood a beautiful girl with long flowing raven curls down to her waist. Her face was heavily made up and her steely blue eyes seemed to glimmer in the light. Everything about her screamed power and wealth, and there you were standing in front of her in tattered rags. Behind her was a group of girls, every one of them pointing and sneering in your direction. They were all wearing matching school uniform and the girl at the front made it very clear that she was 'in charge' to the others. But as you were new here you didn't quite get that, as well as how mean she really was behind the fake facade of a lingering smile and the welcoming scent of freshly baked bread.
It was the first time you had ever been to the bustling overcrowded Victorian city of London. Before that you'd been brought up by your parents in the country, before they left of course...and never came back. You'd figured if anywhere they would be here in London, so your little self ventured out into the big bad world; getting lost numerous times. But once you caught sight of the correct road to take, you found yourself well on the way to the item of your destination. Getting lost in the fantasy of finding your long lost parents you'd forgotten to maintain your attire and well-being. Not that to you it mattered very much of course, it was always personality over looks.
Being polite as always you outstretched your hand as a simple greeting, "Um, hi I'm (Y/N), I was just wondering i-" before you could finish your sentence you noticed two of the girls towards the back of the group laughing harder than the rest. Becoming puzzled and mildly interested you were about to ask what seemed to humour them so much. Yet again you were dismally cut short by one of the girls blurting out, then after the first girl had spoken the rest seemed to join in.
"Look at her, trying to talk to us like that."
"Who does she think she is?"
"I wonder if she's homeless..."
"I think she smells,"
"A girl like that doesn't deserve such nice eyes..."
"Hey peasant, what are you?"
Before your brain could even calculate the sheer horror of the slight situation, tears began to brim in the corners of your eyes. You didn't want to answer the last girl's question. They wouldn't understand. These people before you didn't know you. They hadn't spent time with you. So how could they judge you and call you such mean things? Surely it couldn't be your tired out appearance, could it?
About to open your mouth to reply, you saw a man in the corner of your vision. Turning your head in the direction of this new stranger you saw a man with a long black coat and equally long grey hair tied into a ponytail with a black ribbon. What really made your curiosity and wonder burn was the very clear death scythe resting against his right shoulder. He was watching you intently with an almost saddened look etched onto his flawless face, perhaps he knew the location of your parents and he could help you. Ready to leave and ask the strange man for help you felt a strong tug on your arm. Spinning your head back around you saw the pretty girl with black curls stare right into your eyes as if looking into your soul. "You didn't reply to us filth. What are you?" Her voice was low, almost threatening in some sense. You didn't like it; you didn't like it one bit.
Knowing you'd have to answer to get away soon, you counted your blessings and replied. "A shinigami." Immediately after that, the group from hell that was currently blocking you from much-needed information burst into laughter. Turning to leave, you saw the strange man had gone, taking all your high hopes with him. The black haired girl then spoke again through fits of cold cackling, "And what am I then?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A sudden snap brought you back to reality as the realization hit that you'd been standing in the same place for quite some time, tears cascading down your rosy cheeks. Through your blurred vision you made out a woman with long black curls and a heavily made up face laying at rest in one of Undertaker's works. Undertaker stepped forward embracing you in a warm hug.
" The seldom of my misery~"
Thanks for reading!! :) Please tell me what you think!!~ Have a nice day/night~ SukuraGirl31
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Gilded Coffins (Undertaker X reader)
Fanfiction(Y/n) was a girl who some might say was a little different. Life had treated her cruel. After the disappearance of her parents, she'd become desperate to know what happened to them. But due to her duty to reap the souls of the dead, the chance to fi...
