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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">Ciarán</span></span>
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</div></div><br/>Eternity was a long time to keep a single job, but Ciarán remembered nothing else prior to being assigned his unfortunate position. Perhaps he had a life before this, a real one. Maybe, once upon a time, he had been just a simple human, a common man with unexceptional skills and an unremarkable existence. He imagined at some point that he had a mother, a father, a wife, perhaps even children. His spouse would have been a beauty, he was sure, a tall, elegant woman with flowing hair the color of wheat and eyes that sparkled like the ocean on a sunny day. She would have been a singer, and words would have flowed from her mouth aggressively, beautifully, tumbling as water does from a cliff side, crashing against his ears. Her voice like aural gold would have left him stunned, dazed, yearning for more, and she would sing for him every day, and he never would have tired of her.<br/><br/>Maybe that had happened, or maybe it was simply a fantasy Ciarán had constructed in his head during one of his assignments. The dream had stuck and for the last thousand or two thousand years or however long he had been here, working, it had lived in the back of his mind, festering.<br/><br/><i>Something</i>must have existed before this. Ciarán knew, after all, that he had a name. A name other than the ones humans had given to him. Or maybe that was something he had simply chosen for himself, and he forgot? It was impossible to know, and better to just not think about it lest he drive himself mad.<br/><br/>There was someone waiting for him. That's what he needed to focus on now. A young man. He didn't know the name or face, but he would when he saw it. He always did. There were lights, sirens, a body being hefted into the back of an ambulance by EMTs with strong arms that lacked delicacy. Ciarán sighed. It was only a matter of minutes. The male's body was beginning to shut down, and he would need a knowing hand to guide him along through the painful, empty road that was death. The transition was always bumpy, no matter the manner of dying, though some ages handled their new existences better than others.<br/><br/>The elderly never threw too much of a tantrum; they knew their time was approaching, typically had been mentally preparing for it to some degree. Even the bitter ones never stayed that way for long once they realized all the aches and pains of life were erased the moment they closed their eyes for the final time. Children under the age of ten handled dying surprisingly well. They were scared at first, just like anyone, but a few words of comfort and an open hand and most little ones followed willingly, placing their trust into their new companion as he directed them down a paved road lined with endless fields of flowers that disappeared into white nothingness.<br/><br/>But the twenty-somethings, those were always the worst. They always felt cheated, as if life had denied them something they deserved, something they were entitled to receive. They cried, and whined, and screamed. They cursed Ciarán and his role in it all, though he was never the cause of their demise, only the messenger, an escort. They always had questions for him, plaguing him with inquiries about<i>why</i>. He never had an answer that satisfied.<br/><br/>This one was going to be another whiner, maybe. Though there was an unfamiliar eagerness wafting through the air as Ciarán joined the individuals in the ambulance, unseen by those still holding onto life with a firm grasp. The young man was strapped down on the stretcher, a tube shoved down his throat. Ciarán smiled gently as he stared, finding his new companion to be rather easy on the eyes. He liked it when he could escort a beautiful one, their attractive features stolen from the earth and given to him for a few moments to admire before they passed on, just like everyone else. No one ever stayed for long.<br/><br/>Ciarán reached out a steady hand and rested it gently against Cael's forehead, stroking the skin. "It won't be long," he whispered. Cael wouldn't be able to speak, not with that tube in his mouth, but Ciarán could hear the dying man's thoughts, if he could manage to form them.<br/><br/>Nothing at first. Cael had fallen so quickly, perhaps Ciarán would have to reach deeper. Keeping his hand on Cael's forehead, he placed his other on the man's chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. "Come with me, Cael. I have some place to take you. You don't want to linger here for long, do you? There isn't much time left, and you'll be in pain if you stay. I can make you feel better. Let go."