Humbled ((Undertaker X Reader))

Epilogue

Dim shadows grew heavy with the mist and fog in the air. The muggy scent could have caught even the strongest in a chokehold.
After many hours of persistence, the rainstorm was beginning to calm itself, leaving only the softer droplets behind.

A figure sat hunched, chest barely moving with each quiet breath. They were covered in a dark jacket, still dripping from having sat in the rain for so long. To any normal person, one could have easily confused them for a statue. Even if looked upon closely, any hint of movement was impossible to catch. Only the slight breeze shifting their hair hinted they were indeed sentient.
Slowly, their eyes rose to the sky above, but no sign of the sun would be coming soon. The winter morning was being ever so stubborn, must such a thing be happening on such a bleak day?
No more time could be wasted, prolonging it would not be an option for much longer. They made no move to pick themselves up from the cemented ground, but closed their eyes to do what they had to do.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed before the darkness was finally lit with a gentle glow.
The warmth twisted around their body, wrapping them tightly with intent. Rolling across their arms and chest, it only softened when the glow brushed along their neck.
They exhaled as they brought a hand to it, allowing their cold fingertips to graze it as it moved,
"Don't be like that, won't you fight a little?" It was no fun if it didn't resist. These things usually didn't give themselves up so quickly. Still, they couldn't blame it. With an airy chuckle, they plucked it, preventing it from wiggling around any longer, "I'm a reaper, you know? A mortal soul isn't supposed to be happy with their soul collection. You're dead now."
Well, it wasn't entirely wrong but it wasn't the truth either. Saying those words merely made it easier.
Not easier on the soul; it wasn't as though it could hear. For themselves, mostly, if one must be honest.

Before their scythe could take the record, the tapping of heeled boots echoed through the dreary day, stopping the reaper's work. With a tighter grip on the record, their eyes flickered to the interruption coming closer who bore a proud smile,
"Oh well isn't this the most suspected surprise ever," The familiar face teased, "But I'm afraid I must be taking over from here, darling." The redhead cocked her head, letting her long hair flow.
Well, perhaps procrastination was a bit too dragged out. Really should've done it before the reapers arrived, but... Ah, oh well.
As they stood, the redhead pulled out a book to look over the listings,
"Hmm, yup, right here. Old age, that's a pretty rare one. She got lucky, didn't she? It's so nice when a life isn't cut short, isn't it, Undertaker?"

Rambling, rambling. This could be ignored.
The Undertaker's grip on the soul tightened, and in turn, the record wrapped along his arm, catching it in what could only appropriately be described as a death grip. At least it wasn't someone who took their job seriously, but Grelle was still too much of a hindrance.
After a moment of checking the logs, she shut the book again with a bit of a pout,
"Come now, you're going to be like that? You're cute, but you quit, I can't let you take that one. The association is already ignoring you having your scythe, which is essentially a miracle here."
It finally got a crack of a smile from the silver reaper, encouraging him to wave a hand dismissively,
"Hardly a miracle~ The association is too soft these days. But who can blame them, really? They'd have to fight me for it."
He received a few visitors trying to get it back already, and won the fight every time. At this point, they were choosing not to make it a problem. Wise on their end, even if it took them a while to catch on.
Grelle looked like she was going to say something, but hesitated and shook it off to change topics,
"I really don't want to fight you, a lady's hands shouldn't get dirty. I'll take good care of it. I liked her too, you know? She was a cute firecracker when she was younger."

He didn't want to fight for it either, it should have been his to keep. Her soul, it should stay with him, should it not? What was one little soul of a mortal when they had so many to be concerned over?
Rather than answering, The Undertaker ignored the redhead to continue fidgeting with the record that seemed to cling stubbornly. Usually, they would float without direction, some even fought, but hers...
Grelle's hand sat upon her hip as she watched the older reaper, eyes shifting from annoyance to thoughtfulness after a moment,
"You knew it was coming one day, she was mortal after all."
Such a conversation was boring to The Undertaker. Where were the laughter and smiles? He had no interest in engaging with such a solemn topic. And yet, Grelle continued talking,
"There wasn't anything all that special about her either. Pretty normal for a human, actually. Aside from being born with money, but that stuff only matters to other humans. Still, aren't you the legendary reaper? Why did you care so much?"
Oh dear, where would he even begin?
Even if he tried to explain it, the only one who would understand his feelings would be Undertaker himself. Mortal or immortal, it wouldn't matter.
Admittedly, there was an inkling of missed desires, especially when she began to grow old. A crashing wave of what-ifs, such as... What if she did what she had to do to join him as a reaper? What if he raised her record as he did with the living dead? It was tempting. Oh, it was ever so tempting, especially when it was right there in his hands, but it wouldn't be the same. That fiery spirit was unique to the life she lived.

The silence grew an uneasy friction, only interrupted by Grelle slowly moving forward. On instinct, his grip on the soul tightened, but that didn't falter the redhead from approaching and cocking her head curiously,
"It's rude to leave a damsel hanging, are you just ignoring me?"
Despite the attempts to resist the encounter shifting hostile, Grelle's grip around the chainsaw handle in her hold tightened, ready for things to go south at a moment's notice.
Perhaps with normal circumstances, the mortician wouldn't have minded fighting. He was confident he would win, even against the well-trained of the association, but today was not a day he cared to fight or even argue.
He considered trying to laugh, but not even a smile could crack his lips anymore. He couldn't bring himself to feel angry either, even when being pushed by the redhead on a day he was very much not in the mood for the encounter.
Everything down to his core was numbed, but accepting, in a curious way.
Grelle was right, he knew it would happen one day, there were many years to prepare. It would be a lie if he didn't consider asking her to join him in immortality, but it wouldn't be fair to push such an existence. Life was beautiful in that way, and ever so tragic as he had watched it wither away between his fingers time and time again.
The redhead's taunting push for a fight remained unanswered until even she grew frustrated and lowered her scythe once more with a bothered sigh,
"This is no fun, you won't even battle me for it?"

Still, The Undertaker kept is focus on the winding soul intent to cling to the reaper. After a long moment of the two simply watching the gentle glow, Grelle carefully started to approach. He couldn't resist tensing up, but her demeanor was slow and careful with a lowered guard, and green eyes focused on the soul. Once she was standing beside him, a toothy frown pulled at her lips,
"What made this one so special? She was born with noble blood and decided to live normally. Humans made weird choices all the time, that couldn't be all there was."
"Hmm...~" Ah, she really had no idea, and how could she? Grelle never held her, or watched her drift to sleep after a long day. She wasn't there when she cried or started to slow down as age began to take hold. When her hair turned grey and his skin still hadn't a wrinkle, their bond never faltered.

The soul brushed against his pale cheek and released the tight wrappings as it started to twist around the air like a snake, clearly showing impatience about being left without collection.
The Undertaker knew... He knew she was ready, but he wasn't. Not quite yet. It was selfish, but if she would be patient for just a moment more...
Amidst the swishing, he plucked the end of the soul and pulled it back down close to his chest.
The records played with each reel across the woman's life, showing the truth in the life she lived.