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Liven Courier woke up that morning with a pounding hangover and a sore wing. A few hours later, he'd have wished that was the least of his problems. Unfortunately that wasn't possible, as he would soon come to realize that he was dead. Opening ones' eyes and seeing their own scorched entrails hanging off the walls and ceiling isn't the best way to wake up, but then neither is finding your own decapitated head not three feet away. The mare sitting on it watching him sleep just made everything worse, a pallid robe that looked disconcertingly of living flesh hiding most of her form.

"Good morning Liv, sleep well?" At least she was polite, though the sharp toothed smile left an almost sarcastic bent to her words.

"I think you're sitting on my head, so I'd have to say no. And, why are you calling me that?" Liven Courier himself was a bit surprised by how easily he was taking this. He'd attribute it to shock, but right now he had bigger concerns. Like how he was talking to someone when he was very clearly dead, as explosively redecorating his hotel room very firmly cemented. At least, it looked like there's been an explosion. His scorched innards being everywhere, the hole in the floor, and the smell of... okay, he couldn't smell anything, but the room felt like a bomb had gone off. Looking around he was both glad that he couldn't smell anything, and freaked out that he seemed to be phasing through his own dismembered wing. It would take a moment to find a spot free of his own giblets, and he almost missed what the odd mare would say next.

"Aww, oh well. Though you should have known better, carrying around that much silver fulminate. How'd you do that anyway, it goes boom if you drop a feather on it?" She blinked, then shook her head, giggling to herself. "Nah, it's okay, never mind~ I'm here to offer to a job! You're a courier right?"

"Silver what?" This afternoon was getting odder and odder, surprising all things considered. "Um, yes? You still didn't answer my question."

"Good! If you deliver something for me, I'll give ya a second chance at living! I'll even talk to Reddie, get him to wipe your name outta that big old scroll of his so you won't get hunted down by scary gnashy Collectors."

"What? HOW?"

"Not easily, let me tell you. You're in a whole BUNCHA pieces. I'm gonna need, like, three whole packs of staples." By her frown, this bothered her more than Liv's ribcage having been re-purposed as a chandelier.

"..." Liven Courier stared in a mix of shock, surprise, and sheer incredulous wonder.

"So! If you agree to take this little box here to one very special pegasus, I'll go ahead and fix you up! You'll be on your way in a jiffy, and once it's delivered you've got the rest of your life for yourself. And you can even open it if you can figure out how! Don't worry, this one won't explode you into a million itty bitty squishy bits." The mare produced a wrapping paper covered box from beneath her cloak, holding it out to him. He continued to stare for a time, then held out a hoof to take it. He then caught it, as she had thrown it at his head. The one she WASN'T sitting on.

"Who am I delivering this to?"

"I dunno, but I know he's somewhere! You've got a year though, have fun! Now stand back, I'm gonna put ya back together in a hurry, so this may hurt a little! Oh, and watch out for Collectors! They'll rekill you and drag your ghost straight to Reddie! Bye~" She stood up, picked up his dismembered head, and then threw it at him. He dropped the package, but as his head passed through his... head, he blacked out.

Who knows how long later, he woke up in bed with a pounding hangover and a sore wing. For a moment he thought it had all been a dream, until the rapping that woke him drew his attention to the door, which had been scorched black and was part of a massive smily face drawn in blood that covered most of the wall. He shot up in bed, a hoof to his chest. No heartbeat. The floor had a good sized hole blown in it, and now that he was moving he could feel metal staples all throughout his body holding it together. What he had been using as a pillow turned out to be a hoofball sized box, covered in wrapping paper. It had been real. He was dead.

"Well... buck." He gathered his things as the innkeeper started to buck down the door, thankful that the inn's doors were more durable than most, and slipped out the window. He didn't expect to get his deposit back, and it was probably better to flee before the guards arrived. Flying was uncomfortable, but he could still do it with some difficulty. As he stopped to rest on a cloud just outside of town he glanced over the package. The wrapping paper was an uncomfortable mixture of pink polka dots and anatomically correct hearts, which was very swiftly removed. Within was a softly glowing green puzzlebox, made of some kind of gemstone and completely seamless. It was with a sigh that he slipped it into his saddlebag, momentarily questioning whether accepting had been a good idea. He then took it out of his bag, and put it in the other one, as it had made a very disturbing squish sound that he really didn't want to investigate right now. Though the alternative was worse, and besides, he had a delivery to make.