The Greatest Lie Ever Told
The greatest lie ever told, in Kysad’s humble opinion, was what he told Jasa as the pair marched through the congested streets of Khu'chev.
“You’re in good company,” and with this said, he smiled a sharp smile and proceeded to explain, “I’m one of few Abaasy to ever give Bress the time of day. She’s of this place, as all Abaasy are, but in the same manner that you are of the flames. You do not live for them nor do you live amongst them. They live in you and that makes you what you are on a base level, but the rest is unique to… well, you.”
“How do you know her?” Jasa asked softly, his curious hues peering around the pair in case anyone might be eavesdropping. They weren’t, but fresh meat often expected the worst of the Abaasy. They had every right to. This was, after all, a city built in a comatose behemoth. Imagine what else an Abaasy might be capable of.
“I fucked her.”
“Once?”
Kysad shrugged, not terribly proud of admitting, “Several times. Enough I lost count. I’m sure that doesn’t look good for me, but you have to realize that she wasn’t always-” Snapping his clawed fingers, he struggled for the word. “So.. uh, you know. Fucking…volatile?”
Or, Kysad considered, maybe she was always unstable. Certainly no more unstable than their Darwinism-in-action leader types, but she was obsessed with things most Abaasy didn’t have time to obsess over. Appearance, personal gain, freedom. Dangerous topics to bring up in the company of demonkind.
“I did as well.”
With a swivel of his hips, Kysad halted sidelong next to the much taller Ifrit and narrowed his sights until he was looking through maroon slits. “That why you need help with her? She holdin’ your family hostage? Stole all your money?”
For the first time since they had met, Jasa gave a chuckle, albeit a weak one. “No, no. She was surprisingly gentle with me. If anything, I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
“But?”
“But she has convinced the Sultan to take her hand in marriage and-”
“Say no more!” Holding up an index finger, it waggled erratically in Jasa’s face, coming dangerously close to the molten mess his full lips seemed to have zero control over. “She swindled him. I get it. Honestly, between you and me, that’s a real cushy gig for an Abaasy. I’d go fuck the Sultan if he was going to keep me as a pet, but-” Kysad motioned up and down over his person as if that were enough to explain why a rich ruler might not want to associate with him.
“But Lady Bress is radiant.” Nodding sagely, Jasa looked from his companion as he asked, “Where are we going, Master Kysad? I’ve never tread foot within your capital before.”
“This won’t be the time you do so, either, so don’t get too sappy.”
Cocking a thumb over his shoulder, Kysad continued with, “I live outside Khu'chev, toward the base of the Spikebacks.” Only the Abaasy would think to name a mountain range like it was a metal band. It brought a chuckle out of the demon before he returned to guiding Jasa through upper Khu'chev. “No matter what you’ve heard regarding how awful Nod is, let me be the first to reassure you: it’s nothing in comparison to Limbo.”
Jasa looked as though he might speak, but decided against it with a tight knitting of his brow and a pouty purse of his lips.
The pair walked for what seemed like hours, passing the hovels of the trachea’s constricted passageway while doing their best to avoid knocking into decorations made of seemingly human parts. As with much of Khu'chev, the homes here constructed from bodies, their skin and bone arrangements molded by hands familiar with the details of carnage and gore. Kysad had once heard a particularly unfortunate soul lament Khu'chev’s architecture as akin to letting a butcher build his home from the guts of a Sow. Kysad, being a realist by most accounts, agreed.
After all, this was where he was reared and where he was recruited from, taken from a shack built beneath Khu'chev’s massive uvula, snuggled directly into the soft tissue of the behemoth's throat. It felt like an eternity had passed since then.
Maybe it had.
The pair finally crossed the threshold leading from Khu'chev just in time to hear a booming clap of thunder. Not knowing the season, Kysad ushered Jasa over damp soil through a darkness light refused to penetrate. Even the Ifrit, radiant with his own personal fire within, did little more than cast an ebbing glow through the dim of endless night. Either of the men could have closed their eyes and missed nothing of the trip. Kysad knew the way by scent, but he found it easiest to keep a hand firmly placed on Jasa’s shoulder to steer him along.
Their arrival was unceremonious, though Kysad did say, “Ta-da!”
“Are we here?”
“Oh, right,” the demon snickered and nodded his head before realizing Jasa wouldn’t see that either. “Ahem- yes. I just have to-”
But rather than explain how the door needed to be opened because only he could control it, or how safe his home was thanks to having been built into the side of a mountain where winged holy beasts once resided, he was interrupted by the very same door grinding open. He paused, his mouth suddenly dry.
Then, as though there were nothing funnier than the Abaasy and the Ifrit now semi-cowering in the subtle glow of the entrance, a smooth giggle broke the silence.
“Well, well. Seems you’ve been busy since I’ve been gone.”
Bress was little more than a flash of white as she disappeared into the cavern beyond, leaving Jasa gaping while Kysad hissed, “Fuck! This is too soon-"
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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