Honestly, that wasn't as bad as Trinity thought. Was it painful? Yes. Frustrating? Sure. But that's how it always is. And she only had to use the Heavenly Fire once, and barely even for a minute. That's better than a lot of pickups go.
The girl is looking like the usual: blank, tired out from the crying, and currently in the second layer of shock that comes right after absorbing what's happened.
Technically, the dead shouldn't cry. It happens all the time, but it shouldn't. Things like tension under the eyes releasing tears, shouldn't happen to someone who's a soul without a body. That's something Trinity's bosses wave away, saying something about the Lord's mysterious wonders that even angels aren't meant to understand. But she sees through it; they're upset they don't know. And embarrassed by it. She knows this because it's how she feels too.
Things like that, things that can't be but are, make them all very curious and very irritable. "That's the Spirit for you," is the party line, but it itches under the surface of every other angel's skin; dissatisfaction with that answer, resentment toward it. For beings dedicated to God and spirits and all that, angels are weirdly evidence based. And they hate not knowing.
But they can't show it, so they hide behind their scripted lines and tight smiles and holy fire. Trinity does it too. Because at the end of the day, not knowing is better than falling.
Ayana is still looking dazed when they get on the elevator. "Hold on..." she says blearily.
"What?"
"Death's supposed to come when you die. Not angels. Like, a skeleton in robes."
"Yeah, that's a myth. Who knows where the hell that came from. It's angels who come for you. Unless you're going right to Hell with no judgment, and then one of the fallen will pick you up."
"Fallen? Like fallen angels?"
"Yep. See, look at you, getting out of that shock already! Told you it just took some time."
"Did you tell me that?"
"Well, maybe I forgot. But I thought it. I thought it several times."
Ayana looks around and seems to notice for the first time where they are. "Um. Isn't there a white light to go through or something?"
"Huh, we're just blowing through all the cliches today."
"So there's not?"
"Well," Trinity admits, "There is. But you won't remember it. It happened when you died. And your death was so fast, it wasn't walking into the light so much as being thrown into it unconscious. So."
"Great." Ayana looks like she's about to throw up. (Which eternal souls definitely shouldn't be able to do, and fortunately, actually don't.)
"What did you mean, my judgment?"
"To get from life on Earth to eternal life, you must be judged. Your soul can go to Heaven, to Hell, or to Purgatory."
"I never believed in that stuff," Ayana mutters. "I did a little, but not really."
For a second, her face is blank, but it clears up like a cloud passing over the moon and leaves her looking terrified again. "What if I go to hell?"
"Oh, you won't," Trinity says brightly, happy to finally have a question with an easy answer. "Very few people do. And they don't get picked up by me. The fallen do that, like I said. The fact I was sent for you means you're either going to Heaven, or at worst, Purgatory. That sucks, but it's very very rare. Don't even worry about that."
Ayana looks a little unsettled, but still relieved. She's one of the ones who bounces back fast. That's the only thing, Trinity thinks to herself, that makes nineteen year olds a little easier. Adaptability. (It's still not worth it, in her opinion, not that anyone ever asks for that.)
When the doors open at Floor 99, they step out onto the sparkling marble floors.
"This is where I'm gonna be 'judged?'"
"No. This is where you'll be signed in."
Trinity leads them out of the lobby, through the winding halls and into reception. At the desk sits a very cheerful man with a blinding smile and a bowtie that's an irritatingly bright shade of orange. His eyes start to glow when he sees Ayana, like they always do when humans are around.
"Darius," Trinity greets him warily, "New soul. Ayana Santiago. 19, car crash, no history."
"Trinity! Great to see you!" Darius stands up, unnecessarily, rising to his full height of 6 foot 11, known in official measurement units as really freaking tall. His wings almost knock his chair over as he stands. "How've you been?!" He gives them his most beaming megawatt white smile, all teeth.
Trinity grimaces and covers her eyes. "Put those away, it's too early."
He doesn't.
"Look," she says tiredly, "this better not take as long as last time, alright? I don't have eons to waste right now."
Darius turns to the girl. "Welcome to Floor 99!" he says, with so much enthusiasm Trinity thinks she might be sick. "I'm Darius, receptionist for the Holy Spirit. Just kidding. Sort of. I'm actually the receptionist for the Hall of Judgment, but I like to think that indirectly, my work is linked to--"
"Darius," Trinity warns.
"You've gotta forgive her," he tells Ayana, "She's very serious. Well, she's right that we need to get you started. Here, let me just--" He disappears behind the desk for a second and pops back up with a pen and a clipboard attached to a frighteningly tall pile of forms.
"And here we go. Take a seat and fill these out for me, and then we can get you in there real quick. Good thing it's slow today, or this one might strangle me," he says, glancing over and winking. "And strangling is not model guide behavior, is it, Trinity?"
Trinity looks disapprovingly at Darius one last time before turning to Ayana, who's looking at the forms in disbelief.
"Are you serious? I died and I have to fill out paperwork for it?"
"I know, I know," Trinity says, walking her over to the chairs. "Just get started while I run to my office for a second. It'll be over before you know it, and look, just think of it as hospital forms, except you don't have to worry about insurance! Or a DNR."
Ayana stares.
"Yeah," Trinity says regretfully. "That joke's always a risk."
She leaves Ayana to the forms and goes back through the halls into her "office"-- also known as her corner of the communal room usually swarming with other guides glaring at forms and sleeping at their desks.
Strangely, today it's empty. Slow day, Darius had said. Weird, since Friday nights are usually terribly busy; Lots of young humans going out to drink too much and dance inappropriately in clubs. Alcohol and traffic, bad combination. I.e., the girl down the hallway currently writing down her dates of birth and death for records that are already in the system. Whatever. At least it's not Trinity who has to fill them out.
One minute break, she thinks, leaning against her desk and staring at the ceiling. The minute passes by too quickly. She replaces the bucket under the drip in the ceiling, reaches into the filing cabinet on her left, and pulls out the processing sheet for judgment of newly dead souls, cleverly titled PROCESSING SHEET FOR THE JUDGMENT OF NEWLY DEAD SOULS.
Carefully, she writes the name, the dates, the cause of death. She stamps the top right corner and signs off at the bottom in her tight, neurotic script. Trinity. Guide Signature Here. Same as always. She picks up the sheet, not touching the corner with the fresh ink from the stamp, and goes back to reception.
Ayana is right where she left her, still staring down at the clipboard, chewing on the pen. Which, ew. But people have had far worse reactions to the sign in forms. That hole in the wall near Darius's desk, clumsily hidden behind a fake potted plant, was one of them.
Sitting down next to Ayana, Trinity glances over her shoulder. She's gotten as far as her first name.
"That's a start," Trinity says encouragingly. "Now, Santiago. S-- A--"
"I know how to spell my name," Ayana snaps.
"Right, of course you do. It's just--" Trinity says delicately, "--you're, uh-- not."
Ayana rolls her eyes. "Fine. What do I say for cause of death? Car crash?"
"Yep."
"Social security number?! Why the hell would they need that here?"
"They just like to make you jump through hoops," Darius chimes in unhelpfully from across the room.
"This is so stupid," Ayana says. "And what do I put for this-- time of death? How would I know?"
"9:57 P.M.," Trinity answers easily. That part of the file she did read.
Ayana keeps going through the questions, admittedly painfully slowly and not without questioning the logic of each one.
When it's done, Ayana hands over the clipboard angrily. Trinity walks over to Darius' desk and staples the stamped PROCESSING SHEET FOR THE JUDGMENT OF NEWLY DEAD SOULS neatly on top of Ayana's hastily scribbled forms.
"Great!" Darius beams, standing and opening the door behind him. "Thanks so much for cooperating, and have an amazing judgment!"
"--Um, thanks," Ayana says, staring doubtfully past his shoulder. Trinity doesn't blame her. It's pretty sketchy. First because the door needs a new coat of paint, and also because past the doorway is nothing but pitch black darkness.
"After you," Trinity says.
"Chivalrous," Ayana hesitates in the doorway. "Wait."
"What is it?"
"What's your name again? Whatever that guy called you-- Trinity?"
"Yes," Trinity says through her teeth, "But you're really not supposed to know that," She glares pointedly at Darius, who's whistling something upbeat and jaunty while he reviews documents.
"Trinity, what if they say I'm bad? I don't want to go to Hell." She suddenly looks very young and tragic, and vulnerable, which is something Trinity hadn't seen her show on the surface until now.
"I read your file," Trinity says gently. "You've done nothing that would get you anywhere near Hell. That's a place only real evil goes: serial killers, rapists, genocidal dictators. People who leave their used towels on the floor. Kidding. Bad joke. Shouldn't have said that so close to the genocide thing. Anyway, what's the worst you've done? Ignored your mom's phone calls? Skipped your little sister's birthday to get high with your high school boyfriend?"
"That was one time-- Never mind. What if it's not anything I did... just that I'm a bad person on the inside."
"Judgment is based on your actions," Trinity says. "Trust me."
Technically, she doesn't know what God has in mind when handing out eternal salvation, but she knows she's never seen anyone sent to Hell who hasn't done seriously terrible things. She's guided people who've had homicidal fantasies during their life on earth but never acted on them, and those types have consistently been let into Heaven. Every human is a sinner, but not everyone cares. Most of them do. So she tells Ayana confidently that she'll be fine.
Again, Trinity takes her hand as they walk through the black doorway.