[49 / 11 / 22]
It all goes dark. Just like that, you're dead. Swirling blackness surrounds you, an inky vortex threatening to swallow the very fabric of your existence whole. It's an utterly terrifying feeling, as it permeates your soul and disintegrates every single little molecule of your being into nothingness. If there were one thing you would thank the cosmos itself for, it would be that this sensation is only a temporary one.
Dragged back into something resembling reality, your form finds itself inhabiting a smooth, pitch black chair. Your surroundings are dimly-lit and boundless, a void of sorts. Accompanying the chair is another, and in front of that a desk of fine, utterly flawless mahogany. Delicately carved steel legs hold up this behemoth of a surface, dotted with papers and files. Attending to all the work at hand is a neat, well-put-together man of about seven foot. His face is one of jagged proportions, prominent cheekbones jutting out to complement the discomforting expression that his mouth is providing. An aquiline nose and furrowed brow are equally unwelcoming, creating an altogether intimidating figure. At least he doesn't seem to be paying any attention to you at the minute. You shift around in your chair, hairs on your arms standing as you hesitate to glance from left to right. None of this can be within the realms of reality, you surmise. This is whatever comes after death... the afterlife.
Closing your eyes for a moment and readying yourself for uncomfortable conversation, you feel an infinitesimally slight bit more confident and open your mouth to speak. Before a single word is uttered, the head of the figure lifts up and looks right at you, or rather into you. A smirk spreads across that canvas of a face that he has, and his head tilts a little to the side.
"Feeling a bit confused, chum? I would, were it me in your place."
He stands, gangly arms stretching into the air as he yawns and limbers himself up. Stepping around the desk with smooth grace, he's now sat on the front side of it, leaning down to you. Your head upturned to face him, you gulp and are again interrupted before you can speak.
Dragged back into something resembling reality, your form finds itself inhabiting a smooth, pitch black chair. Your surroundings are dimly-lit and boundless, a void of sorts. Accompanying the chair is another, and in front of that a desk of fine, utterly flawless mahogany. Delicately carved steel legs hold up this behemoth of a surface, dotted with papers and files. Attending to all the work at hand is a neat, well-put-together man of about seven foot. His face is one of jagged proportions, prominent cheekbones jutting out to complement the discomforting expression that his mouth is providing. An aquiline nose and furrowed brow are equally unwelcoming, creating an altogether intimidating figure. At least he doesn't seem to be paying any attention to you at the minute. You shift around in your chair, hairs on your arms standing as you hesitate to glance from left to right. None of this can be within the realms of reality, you surmise. This is whatever comes after death... the afterlife.
Closing your eyes for a moment and readying yourself for uncomfortable conversation, you feel an infinitesimally slight bit more confident and open your mouth to speak. Before a single word is uttered, the head of the figure lifts up and looks right at you, or rather into you. A smirk spreads across that canvas of a face that he has, and his head tilts a little to the side.
"Feeling a bit confused, chum? I would, were it me in your place."
He stands, gangly arms stretching into the air as he yawns and limbers himself up. Stepping around the desk with smooth grace, he's now sat on the front side of it, leaning down to you. Your head upturned to face him, you gulp and are again interrupted before you can speak.
