forum ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴜɴᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇ? || Fantasy/Survival OxO || CLOSED

Started Feb 24 by @Vitae_

tune

Same here! I'm excited to see Dominic in action ^^
Originally I was thinking just plain white! They're meant to be indistinguishable from each other, a faceless enemy, but also one could argue the masks are enough to accomplish that. So if you want to incorporate a design on his hoodie, or just in general for the Reapers, I say go for it!

Alright! Probably gonna go for something simple like a design of a scythe or something that correlates to that

That sounds sick! I'll work on getting a starter up soon. Can't guarantee it'll be tonight, but I'm going to try!

Cannot wait!!

_{Just noticed that i had forgotten a last name for Dom}

No worries! If he has a commoner background he technically doesn't need a last name. It wasn't super clear, but it sounded like maybe his family pushed him to train as a Reaper to improve their social standing (unless they were already well off and they just wanted more power).

The wind stirred. Dante tilted his head back, searching for a sliver of blue sky above, but all he saw was the looming gray of snow clouds.

‘A blessing and a curse,’ he thought, lips twitching into a small frown as he pulled the collar of his coat higher. It was one of those fancy ones, one he’d stolen from a daydreaming Holy with too much time on their hands. He loved it for the thickness of the fabric, but even more so for the high collar that hid the lower half of his face from sight. It even had a hood attached, which he relied upon liberally whenever he dared to brave the population. It was difficult to recognize someone when they were bundled up for the cold, after all.

Dante released a pent-up breath, rubbing his hands together and watching the vapor drift into nothingness. If that wasn’t philosophical, he wasn’t sure what was.

With that cheery thought in mind, he turned his attention to the glimpse of the street beyond the neighboring shack. This part of the outer ring was sparsely populated. Which was great for avoiding Reapers—not so great for filling one’s stomach.

He’d been procrastinating a trip to the middle ring for two days now, but as his stomach growled in complaint, he reluctantly accepted that he could put it off no more. Not without putting himself more at risk than he was comfortable with, that is.

Dante swept back his unruly bangs, then flipped up his hood and began to trudge forward in silence. His eyes passed over every stray traveler, making contact with another Marked he’d had the displeasure of meeting a few days prior. No slight on her company, mind you, just… The woman eyed him, and they both turned from each other without comment. Groups drew attention, they knew that. Besides, no point in getting attached to someone fated to die.

Most people didn’t survive as long as Dante had. Hell, even the Reapers had no idea how long he’d been running for.

—

Early on, Dante discovered a patch of wild mint growing on the edge of the forested territory. He soon after found that chewing on the leaves eased his nerves, and distantly he recalled the act of eating tricking the brain into believing it was safe. He was never truly safe, of course, but the action was strangely grounding nevertheless. As a bonus, it smelled nice. The same couldn’t be said for the majority of the lower ring.

And so he wandered, closer and closer to the middle ring, chewing on mint leaves all the while.

The transition from lower class to middle class wasn’t profound. Not initially, at least, as lots of the buildings were still worn and decaying this close to the border. The key difference lay in the number of people milling about, actually inhabiting the homes in the area. That, and the smoke rising from chimneys and outdoor cooking areas.

Dante scanned the streets, sticking to the densest streams of people and keeping alert for any flashes of white.

On the left side of the street, gouged over time by wagon wheels and muddy from yesterday’s rain, was a bakery. Dante was familiar with it, had visited it often before he was Marked, and even more so after—not that the owners would be particularly thrilled to discover that last part. More importantly, every morning just before the sun breached the walls of the city, a delivery boy set out on his routes.

Dante saw him now.

The Marked glanced once more at the streets, waiting until he was sure no one else was watching before making his way over to the fence to wait. As the boy wandered closer, Dante reached a hand into his coat pocket and produced a single coin.

He leveled his gaze with the delivery boy, who retrieved a single fresh loaf of bread in response. Dante flicked the coin in his direction as the boy tossed the loaf at him. Neither missed the catch.

Dante didn’t thank him, but he nodded ever so slightly in appreciation. The boy mirrored the nod but didn’t make eye contact. That’s what Dante liked about him; he never questioned the nature of their transactions. And he appreciated a good bribe.

As the boy continued down the street, Dante turned to find a private corner to fill his stomach. He didn’t like feeling this exposed, and he wasn’t about to lower his collar to eat in plain sight of the public.

Of course, the world never seemed to want Dante to have a moment of peace. The same moment he made to step around a broken down wagon, an emerging figure from the other side made him reel back. An emerging, white figure.

‘Shit!’

Dante ducked his head in an instant, feigning an apology for nearly running into the Reaper. Internally, his thoughts were racing. Had they seen him? His hood was up. He may still have a chance.

Stiffly, he gave the Reaper a wide berth and shuffled on at a measured pace. ‘Calm. Stay calm, Dante. If they stop, you run. Until then, just be calm.

The cool air blew at Dominic's face, sending a shiver down his spine. He had been walking down a street in the lower district of Ante Mortem, not really remembering why he was there in the first place. He looked around at the rotting buildings and gave a large sigh.

Truthfully, Dominic did not like being in there. There was a reeking stench that followed behind him for every turn the district had to offer and tension was always in the air. Even with these complaints Dominic pushed on.

He was a Reaper after all. Reapers were known for being everywhere in the lower district.

The one thing that truly had Dominic on edge was the bloodied uniform that he had to keep on. The way the red blotches of blood contrasted with the white was unsettling. But was a sign to all that opposed the Reapers and the Council of Grimm, so there was nothing that he could really do about it.

The only thing that Dominic tried his best to not get the blood on was the little emblem on his shoulder which resembled a skull with a scythe that appeared behind it. For some reason, he kept it clean like a trophy of honor.

Dominic had noticed that it was getting colder. The touch of the white ceramic mask that he was told to wear at all times as a Reaper tended to be cold to the touch. It would easily make a man flinch, yet at this point in time, it didn't bother him. It was almost like he had been desensitized towards it.

‘Oh, crap!’

For some reason, Dominic seemed to snap back into reality. He had been spacing out [which wasn't particularly a good idea]. It came to mind why he had actually been there at the time.

‘I need to patrol the areas around the borders, damn it!’

Dominic broke out into a calm run. His hands remained in his pockets as he ran. No reason to keep them out and make them colder than needed to be.

Reaching the border, Dominic decided to go from the fence and onward. It deemed to be a good way of getting a proper sweep of the area and in general was easier for Dominic. In the distance there was a broken down wagon that seemed like a good first place to look for anyone hiding.

He was almost clear! Dante made a conscious effort to relax his shoulders, to make it look, for all intents and purposes, like he was just another middle-ring resident on his way to work. His back was to the Reaper now, face entirely obscured, so as long as he didn't—

Thud.

Dante grunted, staggering to the side as his body was nearly thrown to the ground by the force of impact. The loaf of bread loosened in his hands, and an instant later it was gone. Stolen. He whipped around on instinct, just in time to see the skinny body of a teen slip into a nearby alley and disappear. He couldn't mourn the loss of his breakfast, didn't have the time to do much of anything because at that very moment, his eyes locked with the Reaper.

"Shit." He was running before the other person could even move.