Feng - Occupation Trial

The bean gave a sigh, running a hand through his hair and looking up at the clock on his office wall. The room was comfortable, specially designed to emulate the Chinese interiors he’d gotten used to during his time on Earth. The clock had ticked round while he’d been quietly working, and now it showed that it was nearing time for the next train to arrive at the station, which meant it was about time that he head to meet it. Neatly cleaning his quill and laying it beside his ink bottle, he blew gently on the last few letters and rolled up the scroll of parchment he had been working on, setting it aside and taking a moment to stretch out his arms and wings after a long few hours seated.

Standing up from the comfortable cushion he had settled upon a good while ago, he fanned out his tail a little and pulled on his robe from where it was hung beside the door. Each movement the Bagbean made was slow and careful, not rushed, but still somehow precise in his actions.

It wasn’t long before he was moving down the corridor, his tail and robes making a swishing noise against the floor. It was quiet here, more modern than his room but still with a timeless air. Large windows allowed the winged bean to gaze out at the dark land below. He was currently inside a tower, one of many dotted across the landscape. The earth here was dark, nearly navy in colour, and the surrounding area was dotted with a variety of smaller buildings, some chugging dark smoke into the sky. Only one really drew the bean’s gaze, a building at the edge of the ‘town’.

The building was reasonably large, decorated with little twinkling lights. From it, train tracks stretched out across the wasteland of empty soil, fading off into the distance. Soon enough, the Nightbound Express would be coming down those rails, coming to this cluster of civilisation at the edge of the next world: The End of the Line. This place was on the very cusp of the afterlife, and it was his and his Boss’ job to make sure those souls from the living world moved onwards to the afterlife.

Finally coming to the end of the corridor, the feathered Bagbean stepped out onto one of the tower’s balconies, spreading his wings as wide as they would go. With a few flaps, he was gliding, his tail trailing behind him and shifting now and then to redirect his descent. He was quick to reach the train station’s main building where a simple stage had been set up, and with a small flutter, he settled beside his higherup, taking a moment to fold his tail and wings comfortably and straighten his robe.

“…Punctual as ever.”

The Bagbean turned his gaze onto his boss and gave a soft smile. “Of course, Sir.”

His boss, a dark furred Fornlee, gave a small chuckle at that. “Now Feng, what have I told you about calling me Sir? We’re not on duty until the train arrives, you know.”

“…I know, but I believe it to be…hm…improper.” Feng let out a long breath, his smile growing a touch wider. “But if you insist, Mort.”

The Fornlee smiled wider, folding his hands behind his back and keeping his eyes directed on the gateway to the station’s singular platform. “I like you calling me by my name. Not a whole lot of people do, you realise.”

“Vaast and the Express do.”

“…Well…yes, but they’re only two people, Feng. And one of them isn’t really even a ‘person’. Most others just call me Death, or ‘the Reaper’ or…countless other things but my name.”

“That sounds…taxing, Sir.”

“…Feng…”

“Ah. Sorry, I meant…that sounds taxing, Mort.”

The Lee sighed. “It can be…more so than I think a lot of people realise. Sometimes I just wish to wander along the shores of Fluffia, or climb a tree in Beania like I did in my youth.”

“Your youth, hm?”

“…What? You make it sound like I was never young.”

The Bagbean gave a curious quirk of his eyebrow. “You are the very incarnation of death, S-…Mort. Forgive me, but…I was under the impression that thusly you have existed far longer than the lands of Beania, Fluffia and Capria have been named as such, or perhaps have even existed.”

The Grim Reaper gave a laugh at that, ruffling his second-in-command’s hair. Feng gave a horrified gasp, hands moving to try to sort his hair back into its usual tidy condition.

“Well, maybe I wasn’t around. Or maybe I was.” He grinned. “But Feng…how would you know? Were you around then?”

The Bagbean could only sigh at that. Of course…it was hard to beat his boss when it came to crippling logic.

Word Count: 805