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The quiet female blinks. Did these two draw the short straws of their respective species? She was a writer in life. Ideas are already running through her head as she sits down. One sheet of paper... a space limit. Guess she has to write in tiny font. A pen... her words would be illegible to everyone but her.
Fine with her.
She cracks her knuckles, preparing for a session of writing nonstop. She wants to write at least ten thousand words. She's going to the underworld nonetheless. Might as well punish the two who have to preside over this.
She puts the pen to paper and stares... How does she word this? Pen is permanent and she can't erase it if she makes a mistake. She looses a sigh. If this is the last thing she writes, she might as well allow mistakes. These guys aren't her editors.
She starts writing, squinting in an attempt to read as she writes. No luck... it's too small and sloppy to read. She feels bad for her college professors now, trying to decipher anything she chose to write in the margins of any tests taken on paper. A few managed to read her notes to them, a few got mad, one nodded at her the next day with a grim expression, and one quit.
She takes no blame for that last one, but it is suspicious that it happened after he gave her a note she never bothered to read.
She eventually finishes, the page blue from ink, with no spaces between lines or words. It's a wonder anyone could read it. A majority of it was her apologizing to her original characters whose stories will never be finished, a good portion was her reciting the prologue and first chapter of her favorite original story that became a published book, and a small portion was her writing out how she'd torture anyone who deemed her worthy of going to heaven, just to ensure she wouldn't. God did nothing for her in life, he'd do nothing for her in death.
When she finally turned the paper in, the angel attempted to read what she'd written, but he only seemed more and more confused and concerned when he couldn't see any words, just a sea of blue. The Demon barely glanced at the paper, looking exhausted.
"Are... are you okay...? Where are the words...? How are the words gone...? You were writing for FOUR DAYS!" The angel ruffles his blond hair, his skin even paler than his fluffed white wings.
"Who cares? That last tenth is perfect for the underworld! So many torture ideas, so many details!" The Demon laughs, pure red eyes full of glee. "We're getting this one, Arn!"
"But... But she's so innocent! Look at her!" The angel gestures to the female, drawing attention to her. She can see why he said that. Her brown hair, although half-shaved, is braided out of her face neatly, her skin is unscared aside from old scars from the usual trips and falls granted by being clumsy as a child, her blue eyes framed by simple black glasses, and she's wearing clothes that covered as much skin as possible, including a hoodie with sleeves stained by ink. If they knew how she lived, they'd see someone who, aside from a firm disbelief in God, was completely innocent. She never broke laws, never stole anything, and was well loved. If you ignored her books, which were often full of death and torture, she never thought of crimes.
The Demon cackles as she smiles, uneven teeth revealed in the expression, just before she recites-
"Astra's power kills those she looks at and she killed her father when she was-"
It was the main character of her longest book series, Astra's, backstory. The angel looked more and more concerned when the recitation took almost a day as she went over Astra's appearance, power, skills, personality, story progression, and relationships in detail despite making those things back in High School.
The angel was white as a sheet when he left to allow the Demon to take her to the Underworld.
Lovely.
You just died. Upon entering the door to afterlife, an angel and a demon welcomes you. In front of you is a pen and a blank sheet of paper. Their only instruction was “write”.