Black was never her color, which was probably the biggest drawback of her new “part time job.” Ever since she spilled her blood on that stupid contract every outfit she put on would instantly turn black. She could explain away her new wardrobe, she was fourteen afterall, the prime age for an identity crisis and dying her hair jet-black went along with that explanation perfectly. Her skin however, the unnatural paleness, would be a little more difficult to blame on “going through a phase.”
Luckily her mom was about as observant of her as the residents of their living room’s fish tank. Furthermore, she had made the contract over the summer, so if anyone at school commented on how unnatural it was for her skintone to change so dramatically, well, she could just say she spent the entire summer holed up in her room playing video games. The explanation was outside of her character, but so was just about everything else about her now.
“Morrigan,” Noir said as he walked across her bed, his natural movements looking more like a prowl. He jumped over to the windowsill then sat on his haunches and looked at her. “Is it really necessary for you to attend this school?”
“Well, yeah,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror as she brushed her hair. She had no choice but to embrace the whole gothic lolitta thing, with the black and white thigh highs, black hoodie and gray plaid skirt. To be fair, the hoodie used to be pink, and the skirt red plaid. “I don’t know if you are aware, but in this world, this country at least, people my age are required to go to school.”
“You are a reaper, Morrigan. The laws of mortals do not apply to one such as you. Do you not understand this?”
“You can say that if you want, but the reality is if I stop going to school the police are eventually going to come knocking. Whether the laws of mortals apply to me or not, it's going to be a pain. Also, that would lead to questions about what I have been doing with my time and the reality is I’ve been out comitting murder on a daily basis. Pretty sure I more than doubled Jack the Ripper’s score by now.”
“The definition of murder is, the unlawful killing of one human being by another,” Noir said in his deep sophisticated voice. “You are no longer a human being, and even if you could be classified as such, the laws of mortals-”
“Do not apply to me, I get it…” she sighed and put her brush down. “I still need a place to live, and I still need to eat food. I know I can’t die but I still get hungry and reaping is hard on an empty stomach.”
“Then you should starve,” Noir said flatly, “It would be more efficient and eventually the hunger will leave you.”
“Thanks for the advice, but I’m going to pass on that for now.” She turned around and looked at the black cat, who was still sitting on the windowsill, staring at her. “And you can stop staring at me, it’s creepy.”
“As you wish,” he said, and turned his head away. Then turned it back to look at her again. “Tell me Morrigan, will you at least refrain from trying to develop any form of friendship with these mortals?”
She had no response for that. She knew that was something she could not argue with. She set her brush down next to her black gloves (they had been green when she bought them) and put them on. She had to wear these because if she were to touch someone with her bare hands, even by accident, they would die.
Noir’s long black tail swished as he spoke, “I can accept your desire for continuing to masquerade as human. I can even agree that there are certain benefits in doing such. Still, be sure you do not forget, you signed the contract, you are no longer human and no good can come from reapers growing bonds with humans.”
“I know that… of course I realize that,” she said and looked at herself in the mirror once again. Masquerading as a human… is that really what she was doing now? The problem was she still felt human. Granted, she had a rather peculiar part time job now, but she still felt like herself. Even if she no longer looked like herself.