Chaotic belongs to TCDigital.
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Anger
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There's this... sound...
Bump, thump... Bump, thump...
It's coming from nearby... Something firm, but warm... Below me, lying on something soft...
Bump, thump... Bump, thump...
I'm so tired... I just want to sleep again... My eyes feel deep in their sockets, my eyelids tight, stinging slightly...
Bump, thump... Bump, thump...
There's something cool, too... Almost cold... Too cold... More of the warm... More of the soft... More of the sound...
Bump, thump... Bump, thump...
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"...Michael is sleeping."
I grunt and roll to my other side. Pretty certain I heard my name, there.
"I could not possibly care less, Chaor. Ulmar's mad machinations might occasionally bear fruit, but this one is beyond the realm of reason."
And that's Takinom's voice.
I sit up and look around, blinking the blurriness from my vision. Nobody else is in the room. The voices are coming from beyond the doors.
Chaor's voice sounds again, in his usual rough tone. "I have seen this venture produce results already, Takinom. We are taking this conversation elsewhere."
There's nothing else from the two of them. I guess they really did head off. Shame, overhearing stuff is probably how I'm going to get any answers right now.
I stretch my arms over my head and feel my joints pop all around my body, then turn my attention back to the room. Dominating the place is Chaor's massive bed, which I'm on. Ugh. I really hope it's been cleaned recently. There's a dark smear where my head had been. Bloodstain. Right, that's mine, from yesterday's little... run in.
There's a table near the bed. My clothes are folded neatly on it, and next to them, a tray carrying food and a large bowl. My stomach immediately informs me that I still haven't had anything to eat, and I can't focus on anything else but that tray right now. The table's close enough that I can crawl to the edge of the bed and drag the tray over. I'm cautious for only a moment before my stomach loudly complains about the wait, and I dig into the cold meal.
A bowl of thick gray broth and boiled grains, with large chunks of a white-stemmed plant sticking out like a spoon in a cereal bowl. I drain the bowl in several long swigs. It's salty, and I have to stop several times to chew the hard kernels. The stalks crunch like celery, but with a spray of bitter water in each bite.
A thick-skinned blue fruit, already cut in half, revealing its white center, with a large knife beside it. The peel is tough and inedible, but the insides are juicy and sweet. I use the knife to carve as much as I can from the inside of the skin and the core.
A cooked violet tuber topped with off-white cream. The fruit knife goes to work again, slicing the tuber and spreading the cream along its dark red insides. The cream is tart, the tuber bland. I use the leftovers in the bowl to add a little flavor.
A large mound of meat with a bone sticking out of it, covered in a slightly blackened rind. I cut into the meat and see a thin layer of browned meat covering a red fleshy core, juices releasing with the smallest pressure. The rind and outer layer of meat are chewy and tough, but the inner section melts in my mouth. It must have been soaked in spices because the initial wave of saltiness eventually gives way to a soft pleasant burn on my tongue.
After finishing off the obvious, I'm still hungry, despite the dense pit that my stomach no doubt has become. I crack open the bone with the help of the knife and begin scraping at the marrow with my teeth. Then I look at the knife in my hand again. Of the four places I arrive at in Perim each lifetime, the UnderWorld is by far the most hazardous. No amount of promises from Chaor can make me feel comfortable with going around unarmed. That is, assuming I'll be allowed to go anywhere by myself anyway, with all of fawning over me Chaor has done.
That's the next puzzle I need to resolve. If I'm going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future, then Chaor's bizarre behavior needs to be addressed. What can I determine from the information that I have? Well, to start with, I need to list out what I know.
I start thinking out loud while aimlessly drilling a hole into the leftover fruit skin with the knife. "The mystery of Chaor. First off, this didn't happen immediately." Chaor acted as expected when I arrived in his throne room this time, so the shift in behavior happened sometime during the days that I was experimented on, the days I don't remember.
I start on another hole. "Second, he's being strangely protective?" That feels like the case, anyway. I've known Chaor to become emotionally attached before, but never to this point. No, protective has to be the wrong word. "Possessive, actually." You don't mess with Chaor's things, and if he considers me one of his things, well...
I stop fiddling with the knife. This isn't going anywhere. I'm missing too much, so thinking about it is going to rely heavily on conjecture.
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The door opens while I'm tying my shoes. Chaor is back, ground shaking with his footsteps. "I see you finally had yesterday's dinner," he says in that unusually warm tone, and I hear him step over to the tray I left on the end table.
"It was very satisfying," I mutter, keeping my eyes very firmly on my shoes.
The movement stops, and there's an uncomfortable silence. Then a shadow looms over me. "Michael," Chaor begins with an edge in his voice, "what have you got there?"
I feel Chaor starting to pull something out of my pocket, and on reflex, I snap my hand back and grab it as well. Chaor stops pulling it away but doesn't release his grip. I look up at Chaor crouching over me, him holding the handle of the fruit knife with two fingers, me holding the back on the blade in my hand.
I take a deep breath, and it feels like my heart is trying to pump concrete. "I need to be able to defend myself," I say, no doubt not as clearly or confidently as I'm hoping to sound.
"There is no need," Chaor says firmly as he starts pulling the knife away. "No-one will harm you."
I tighten my grip on the knife and point at the side of my face with my other hand. "This wasn't a gentle shove, Chaor. The UnderWorld is a place where the strong eat the weak, and right now, Humans are the weak." I give the knife a tug, and it slips out of Chaor's grasp. I stand up and slide the knife back into my pocket, then look back at Chaor. His face is almost level with mine, the way he's crouching.
Chaor scoffs, his breath hot on my face. "Yesterday was an oversight, one that I have corrected. You have nothing left to fear from those in the palace."
Fear is giving way to anger. I jab Chaor's snout with a finger and hold it there. "What about outside the palace? What if one of your subjects wants a quick, exotic meal of Human meat? What if one of your subjects decides to 'recruit' me as a fighter in the death pits? Is your authority so ironclad that nobody breaks your laws?"
Chaor doesn't budge from my strike to his nose, but he doesn't answer, either.
I turn away from Chaor and throw my hands up. "Or are you going keep me in a safe little cage, like some domesticated pet? Perhaps treat me like a porcelain doll, something pretty to look at and keep on a shelf?" I whip back around and point at Chaor's face. "You've done that before. It was miserable."
Chaor puts a hand on the bed and lifts himself back to standing, the sits down on the mattress. His gaze does not waver the entire time. "Of course," he mutters. "You know much about this city. Clearly, you have experienced the best and worst it has to offer." He tilts his head to the side. "You cannot start over any time that you like, either. Is it dying that causes that?"
My train of thought derails and bring my campaign of righteous fury to a screeching halt. "I- what?"
"If you could start over whenever and as often as you like, we would never have made it to today to have this conversation. You would have used this ability of yours the moment something went awry. Am I wrong?"
Of course, he'd still be piecing together what I'm capable of. "...No, you're correct." Please don't look too far into this, Chaor. Stronger creatures than you have broken down into insanity when they've delved too far.
Chaor stares at the far wall, silent for a long time. Then he speaks again. "Very well. However, that knife is insufficient." He stands up and heads for the exit. "Come. Let us find a more suitable BattleGear for you."
I'm not celebrating this victory. Chaor is still plotting something, and I'm at the center of it. I'm not any closer to getting out of here, and I'm afraid that, if Chaor gets what he wants, I never will.
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Chaotic belongs to TCDigital.