Not Fallen... Yet

Chapter 15 - Is a Blanket Such a Big Deal?

Aryan needed to get this shit under control. A few momentary bursts of compassion and almost-caring here and there was acceptable but this was just too much. There was no way. No fucking way.

The demon stood in the sanctuary of his own home once more during that same time of day he always pretended to miss the cage fights and complained a lot more than he actually felt compelled to do whilst preparing to go seek Kiran. The guy had already grabbed a pack of crackers, noting that his supplies were steadily dwindling by the day before reminding himself that he was supposed to be keeping any concern to a minimum and had merely marked the discovery off as a simple observation that held no real bearing over his life - Nevermind the fact that Aryan had already mentally scheduled a trip to the trading area to restock in the very near future.

The Guide had even gone so far as to grab two bottles of water without putting up too much of a mental fight, already drained from struggling with his building compassion relentlessly for the past few days and willing to at least make that small concession without a fuss. But this... This was too fucking much.

The demon remained still as a statue in the center of his home cave, glaring daggers at the pile of furs that rested in a messy assortment of no real order or care in the far corner of the cavern as if it had just insulted his mother. (Again... Would that be insulting Satan? Aryan would strongly recommend those stupid, foolish furs rethink their decision if that were the case.)

There was no way. No way in Earth, Heaven, or here that Aryan would even harbor such an idiotic thought for more than a brief moment, if even that! No. You know what? Not even a brief moment. Aryan simply wasn't considering it. It wasn't an option. In fact, it hadn't even crossed his mind!

No.

But he's scrawny! Aryan's unruly conscious piped up unhappily, helping nothing and being ignored entirely as the demon urged his body into motion with the intent to retreat from his home and end this stupid discussion he wasn't even having. There's no meat on him - He could legitimately freeze to death you know! Conscious persisted unrelentingly as Aryan's muscles refused to cooperate with his demands and left him standing dumbly in the middle of his cave making no real moves to go anywhere anytime fast. E tu, body?

Aryan mentally scrawled "Body" onto the list of things that deserves the biggest Fuck You of the century right alongside "Conscious, Brain," and the previous most recent addition "Mouth" before the demon finally released an absolutely exasperated snarl of aggravation and was forced to relent. The guy stalked forward furiously, scowling at his own clawed hands as if their mere existence was contrived solely to spite him as the assholes reached forward and snagged the largest blanket they could find from the carelessly disorganized pile without so much as consulting the demon about whether or not he actually wanted to go through with any of this.

The cover of choice was a large, black pelt of some creature Aryan couldn't identify if he'd tried, the rumpled pelt surprisingly weighty in the demon's hands as the Guide stubbornly ignored the fact that he was initially pleased by this fact before he remembered not to be. The glistening fur of the unnamed creature was sleek and unexpectedly soft, a gentle velvet brush against the demon's coarse hands that reminded him vaguely of the delicate whisper of Kiran's supple feathers under his fingertips.

As he folded the plush item over one arm, Aryan wanted to snarkily ask himself where he could go back and decide not to submit himself to all this heinous bullshit but the demon shockingly found himself loathe to do even that. When the guy had thought to pose the sarcastic question to himself, it had been merely rhetorical and, all in all, a joke, but his mind darkly reminded him of what the answer would be and smothered out any snide humor that had been intended.