Daevari -II-

Chapter 7.1: Beneath the Surface

All through the night, Ari and Sai talked and talked until it felt as though no time had passed between them, as though no wrongs had been inflicted upon the other. The dimly lit basement, tucked away beneath the lively tavern above, was filled with the scent of damp earth and aged wood. Flickering candles cast wavering shadows on the stone walls, illuminating their faces in a warm glow, creating an intimate space amidst the chill of the early morning. Dust motes danced in the air, swirling in the light, glittering like the water's reflection of the moon.

Within that time, Ari gravitated toward Sai, as a moth drawn to a flame. Yet, Ari sensed that something was wrong—something not quite right. Although Sai spoke openly and brightly as the hours passed, Ari could not help but feel a deep sadness laced between his words.

The older one became, the more their eyes revealed emotions they did not wish to show. Ari had learned this truth long ago, and now, it was more apparent than ever.

"Are you not tired, Ari? Tired of this? Of all of this?" Sai asked, his voice low and resonant, echoing in the quiet room.

Ari propped his head onto his hand, staring deeply into Sai's eyes. They held conviction, resolve—no sadness but a pure determination, almost like a resignation, an acceptance of some deep, inevitable fate.

"I... I do grow tired," Ari admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, feeling the weight of the basement around them. "I wondered the same with Auovin once before. Whether he was tired of it all."

"Ah..."

"He has lived longer than I, seen more than I, experienced more than I... Perhaps you are right in saying we are beings of pain and fury manifested into form. When you live so long without rest, seeing all the bad that comes with living and loving, but also the good... I wonder what becomes of such a person?"

"Emotions are powerful things. None are more vulnerable to them than Daevas. It is your lifeblood. There is a painful, ironic beauty to it."

Ari lowered his eyes, staring at his hand as he turned it over, once, then twice, the rough texture of the wooden table beneath his fingers grounding him in the moment. "Yes... I suppose it is. It can be."

He knew it was well into the early morning. The raucous laughter and clinking of mugs from the tavern above had quieted long ago, replaced by the occasional creak of the old building settling. Ylanan and Inge would return any moment now. Ari did not want to spend what little time remained with Sai speaking of such melancholy matters.

"You know it is us lesser demons who suffer the most."

Ari snapped his head towards Sai, his heart sinking at the whimsical yet sorrowful expression on Sai's face. The rims of his eyes were red, his cheeks flushed, reminding Ari of Nis in an instant. Sai's flush was softer, more pink than red, giving him a gentleness that betrayed the truth.

Lesser? No, Sai was not lesser. His calmness gave rise to such thoughts in those who did not know him better. Cyrus had been drawn to him—for his blood, for that reason alone. To think of himself as lesser... Ari felt a sharp pang of indignation, as though Sai had insulted him.

"You are not my lesser, Sai," Ari said, his voice firm, echoing in the confined space.

"Demons are hierarchical, have you not noticed?" Sai replied, gesturing around the room with a languid motion. "It is a system that has kept what little order we have in place. Your blood, your markings... they make you special, Ari. Every one of you."

Ari shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the rough wood pressing into him, feeling self-conscious.

"There is something unique in each of you," Sai continued, his gaze steady, the flickering candlelight catching the subtle contours of his face. "Something lasting, beautiful, and destructive. It attracts us like bees to honey, forever dooming us. What becomes of those who lead themselves to their own ruin, I wonder?"