Devilla
For the second time in as many days, I found myself following Feyra down the street. Yet where once she had seemed skittish and scared, now she stomped upon the ground and scowled at the air as if the world itself had personally wronged her. An expression quite similar to one I'd seen Abigail make recently - a thought that might have tempted me to laugh, if I wasn't fully aware that I was the shared source of such feelings. Though Abigail, at least, would never put it that way.
Perhaps this was the difference between being paid to show me around for an hour or two, and being forced to reside within my presence for extended periods. Something I could understand - or
would
understand, had Feyra been one of the people forced to live under my incompetent rule. Then, at least, she'd have reason to despise me. As it was? The girl hardly knew me! She acted this way out of fear for my power - she was terrified of being around me, but forced to remain within my presence by Lucy's request, and so she lashed out without regard for self-preservation. Not that I was going to do anything to her for it, beyond frowning at the back of her head.
At least I was getting some useful information out of this whole ordeal. Two things in particular seemed quite worthy of my attention. The first, related to the Monster Movement, was admittedly more a matter of curiosity than importance - I simply wondered if it was connected to the pack of horned wolves that Bailey had been part of. If so, I was almost grateful that it hadn't been solved quite yet... as twisted and selfish a thought as that might be. Otherwise, I would never have met Lucy, let alone rescued Bailey from her abusive home.
The second thing of import was Feyra's so-called 'curse.' She seemed to believe that it stemmed from one of my ancestors, but I personally found that rather hard to believe. What sort of Demon Queen would give their enemy such a useful power? Let alone let it be inherited, potentially creating a multi-generational advantage for humanity... Not to mention the fact that I'd never even
heard
of any ancestors of mine directly interacting with humans, as an enemy or otherwise. They'd mostly restricted themselves to dealing with the Heroine, negating the influence of my aunts in heaven, but otherwise disturbing the balance of human affairs as little as possible.
Besides which, I wasn't entirely convinced cursing a bloodline was
possible
for us. We lacked the ability to even enchant items, let alone people - the Empty Bag and Indestructible Sword were so valuable for that precise reason!
At the same time, however, I had no alternate suggestion as to the origins of Feyra's powers. The ability to see magical energy was more in line with what I'd expect from a demon than a human - in fact, I was fairly sure some race or another had that exact ability! I wanted to say... tiger girls? Or lions? Or maybe just basic catgirls...? Some sort of feline, anyway!
I probably should have paid more attention during my classes...
"Is there a reason you're staring at me like that?" Feyra demanded, glancing back at me before turning down an alleyway. "Because it's really creeping me out."
"Apologies," I replied, wincing. While Feyra's attitude towards me didn't exactly beget fondness on my part, I still had no desire for her discomfort. "My mind was simply dwelling on the nature of your curse."
"Really? Because usually that comes with a lot more glaring."
"People judge you for it?" I asked, unable to stop a frown. "For something you were born with?"
"Pretty sure it's normal to judge someone for having evil running through their veins."
"What makes you so certain that it's evil?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes at her. "Does it cause you pain? Affect your judgment? Alter your behavior, or otherwise affect the lives of those around you?"
"Could you maybe not be all blasphemous in public?" Feyra asked, lowering her voice to a whisper. I have no clue why she thought I'd be able to hear her - something to ask her about later, considering how easily I
could.
"It's a curse because it came from the Demon Queen. Who the fuck knows what sort of strings come with it?"
"I hardly think asking questions is blasphemous," I grumbled in return. Still, despite my grousing, I acquiesced to her request. In truth, I lacked the heart to go against her in light of the clear distress painted across her features. Even if it was upsetting for her to label her power as a curse, while defending the people who made her see it that way... Not to mention the bit where she insulted my ancestors.
Of course, that isn't to say that I remained eternally locked in silence. "Aren't we nearing the Ruby Shop?" I asked, noting increasing familiarity with the area. "Don't tell me you have business with Gerard?"
"His daughter, actually," Feyra replied, coming to a stop outside the familiar two story building. Rather than walking through the front door, however, she began to circle around it towards the back. "Amessa makes my meds."
"Meds?" I questioned. I did seem to recall her saying something about that, when first we'd met - and the blonde girl that had been chasing her down had responded with something about... "Potions?"
The glare Feyra gave me was fierce enough to make me flinch. "So what if they are? You going to fucking join the parade of people waiting to judge me for them?"
"I don't even know what you're taking them for," I pointed out, trying not to return the girl's glare in kind. The way Feyra treated me was growing more tiresome by the moment, but something told me that this particular reaction had little to do with me. "Nor am I so conceited as to believe it is any business of mine. Though I am curious as to why one might need a dedicated alchemist - can you not simply consume the raw materials to receive their effects?"
From the way Feyra narrowed her eyes at me, I got the distinct impression that she didn't believe a word coming from my mouth. A shame, seeing as how I had neither a method nor desire to prove myself to her.
Nevertheless, after a moment of tense silence, she looked away with a huff. "Amessa's potions are just a little different, alright? You'll see soon enough." Saying so, she all but stomped her way towards the back of the shop, rapping her knuckles fiercely against the wooden door.
The response was near immediate - the door swung inwards, and a girl's head poked out. She looked almost a match with Feyra, at first glance, with her green hair and brown eyes. A closer look, however, showed the similarities to be rather shallow. Where Feyra was rather tall, at five foot nine, this girl barely came up to my own natural height, at five foot four. Where Feyra's skin was pasty white, this girl boasted a dark complexion. And where Feyra's hair was dark green, this girl's hair had a bright vibrancy about it, giving off the impression that it was mere moments from springing to life.
