Not Fallen... Yet

Chapter 12 - Paranoia... Right?

The following evening when Aryan, once again, diligently relinquished his cherished break to care for Kiran, it wasn't quite so hard. Perhaps the demon was simply getting used to it, having resigned himself to the duty which he'd unintentionally brought upon himself and thus not quite so resistant when the time came to hold true to his word. It wasn't as if the cage fights had truly been the most thrilling of pastimes anyway and it certainly wasn't as if the demon were hard up for cash since he wasn't usually one to splurge on frivolities.

Aryan would honestly be lying if he said he missed his old daily routine. Get up, go to work, exhaust yourself in an excruciating battle for survival, work some more, sleep, and repeat actually left a little bit to be desired in retrospect. It wasn't as if Aryan enjoyed going to see Kiran or anything but, well, maybe it was nice to spend some time away from vicious fights and people who edged away when you came near for a little while

Aryan pushed such thoughts away however as he rummaged through the bulky cardboard box and pulled from its shadowy recesses another slim pack of crackers, tucking them away in their usual spot against his side and barely flinching at the sharp prod of pointed plastic corners digging into his armpit this time around, all but accustomed to the irritating sensation. He was becoming accustomed to a lot of irritating things these days.

After that was done, the demon snagged another lukewarm bottle of water from its home shelf and tucked it away as well, stuffing the bulky, persnickety thing deep into the inside of his leather jacket where he knew it would not escape his grasp as its defiant brethren had a few days ago. The demon's eyes lingered on the remaining plastic containers lining the stone hole he really shouldn't even bother calling a shelf for a long moment, his dark eyes trailing thoughtfully over where the full bottles all sat in perfect rows of untouched orderliness.

The way the water lines all matched up with unfalted exactness was oddly mesmerizing in an almost disconcerting manner, the impeccable perfectness of the filling of the impossibly identical bottles revealing machine precision. That level of ideal exquisiteness was unquestionably unobtainable with a living being's imperfect hand and unnatural in a way, as if, in being so well disciplined, the precise identicality of the water had become wrong in every way. Nothing was supposed to be cookiecutter perfect.

Where all these befuddling thoughts had sprung up from, Aryan did not know, nor did he care to find out as he cleared his mind of such nonsensities and grasped a second water bottle before he could think too much about it, stuffing it away in his leather jacket beside the first and retreating from his home before he had a chance to turn back on the decision. It was literally just a fucking bottle of water. It meant nothing! He needed to stop overthinking.

Aryan made it through the first few tunnels without any trouble to speak of, even making it past the Gathering Hall and into the less traveled pathways beyond without coming across a single living soul and, what's more, the demon actually felt better than he had the past few days. However, Ayan had never been one to believe in good luck, quite the opposite, in fact, as bad luck seemed to be the only constant lord to trust in in the Guide's personal experience, so, even he knew it was only a matter of time before something went wrong. Apparently that day was today.

Just as Aryan was nearing the fourth portal and with it the small side passageway that would lead him from the known realm of the Underworld and into the great maze of passageways beyond, an unexpected disturbance met his listening ears. The noise was quiet, most certainly, Aryan would likely have missed it if he wasn't so on edge and already straining every sense he owned in an attempt to prevent discovery. It was as if whoever had made the barely audible sound wished to remain silent and unnoticed themselves but it was still there nevertheless - The instantly recognizable fall of soft footsteps against the cold, stone floor of the caverns.