Draziel's POV
I stared down at the thick liquid and the thighs of a chicken soaked in it. I grumbled softly as my eyes picked on the little greenish and reddish materials swimming in the liquid.
I let my gaze drift beyond the bowls to her, seeing how her eyes, though divided between me and the two bowls of 'chicken soup,' as she called it, brightened, gleaming with excitement. Her throat bobbled gently as she salivated at the food. How do humans even find this appetizing?
Food was meant to be simple. You find a small animal, snap its neck, split it open with a knife, and there's food already before you. Sometimes, if you have time on your hands, you roast it on a fire.
This, before me, I took my eyes back to the ceramic bowls, staring at the array of things that made up the meal—it wasn't food but was a needless ceremony of varieties.
"I can never eat these." I forced a grin at her, pushing the bowls back to her. I don't even know what eating the food might cause to the timeline. "These are all yours, Lyra. Eat up."
"Okay," she answered, her voice dragging with reluctance. Suddenly, she bowed to herself. She hugged her stomach tight, wincing loudly in pain.
Instinctively, I reached across the table for her. "What happened, Lyra?" I demanded as gently as I dared, caught between trying not to yell and eager to know what was happening to her.
I saw the mischievous gleam in her eyes too late, and by that time, a chicken thigh was lodged in my mouth.
Lyra turned instantly to her food. She giggled softly, refusing to look up at me after her deed, and she began attacking her food. She scooped the hot liquid into her mouth with a wooden device the waitress had put beside the bowl.
I thought I would feel my muscles quiver in anger. I would glare down at her and yell at her in fury. Surprisingly, I did nothing but drop back to my seat gently. I wasn't angry at what she did. Rather, my lips were stretching gently for a slow, tentative smile, and I took the chicken out of my mouth.
The chicken was so soft between my fingers, the skin slowly came apart from the bones. I stared at the piece of meat, turning it around in my fingers. My brow angled curiously at it, while the meat dripped hot liquid onto the table. What could have made a meat so tender?
The liquid—soup, or whatever it was called—was hot against my tongue, tingling and burning my tongue fiercely. Yet for some strange reason, it also tasted somewhat interesting. I found myself licking gently at the droplets of it, lingering on my lips.
"You see, it is delicious, Draziel." She raised her head now, her eyes gleaming with much excitement. Her gaze moved to my lips while I dabbed my tongue over them to swipe the droplets into my mouth.
I stopped with my tongue, and I grunted softly, dipping the chicken back into the liquid. How had I let myself be played by her? Quickly, I wiped my lips with the sleeves of my robe. "It isn't anything, Lyra." I turned away from her to watch the humans using the streets beside us.
What does delicious even mean, and why should the food be delicious? Food was meant to be consumed for survival and should have just one taste, raw—anything else was unnecessary.
"I don't think eating a piece of chicken will do anything irreparable to the future." She said.
I turned back to her. I wanted to rebuke her, scold her for taking this with such levity. But I couldn't bring myself to say anything.
I stared at her carefully, watching her as one would watch a kid. She looked extremely beautiful and cute as she bit gently at the chicken, her elegant, Cupid-shaped lips parting as she scooped the soup into her mouth.
I would have lectured her on what a single wrong choice could do to the timeline, but I swallowed up my words. And rather than look away, I kept staring at her. Somehow, it felt like fun watching her eat.
When she finished the second bowl, she leaned back on her seat with a loud, heavy sigh. Her stomach nudged forward a bit, her jaw busy as she chewed slowly on the rest of the last of the chicken.
I pushed the remaining two bowls to her. "What about these two? You won't let them waste, will you?"
She grunted in disapproval, and she leaned back, rubbing her stomach tenderly. "You will have to eat them yourself. Any more, and you would be carrying me around,"
"I don't mind." I blurted without thought. I bit gently on my lip in reproach when I realized what I had said. Still, I didn't feel like taking it back.
She stared at me for a moment, her brows jerking indecisively. Then she stood up. "Let's go," she said, walking away from the table and dragging her robe with her—technically, my robe. "I have eaten all I can already," she added.
The robe was so big on her, she had to carry it up, and even with that, it dragged along behind her, sweeping the dirt.
I stood up after her. "Let's get you some human clothes,"
By the time she turned to me, I had snatched her wrist and teleported her to the shop of my only human friend—my tailor.
We landed in the inner chambers of Alfred's shop. Alfred, a middle-aged human with a line of beard only atop his lips, started from his desk, and his pen danced between his trembling fingers.
When his eyes registered that it was me, they calmed. He relaxed onto his desk before standing up to receive us. "Can you please inform me before coming? You almost scared the life out of me," he said. He spotted Lyra beside me, and his eyes brightened, jumping completely to her.
He stared at her curiously, every one of her features coming apart under his eyes. He leaned his hand forward to her. "Hello, my lady," he whispered gently.
She took his hand cautiously, her eyes jumping from him to me, just as he shook her hand, as if it was supposed to mean something.
Dark spots flashed in my vision as I watched him keep shaking her hand, staring into her face as if mesmerized by her. "You look extremely beautiful, my lady,"
My muscles tightened around me. I dropped forward, as if by impulse, something inside of me pushing me for his blood. I growled at him, a harsh, loud growl that rattled the wooden structure of his shop in its entirety.
The sheer force of my growl threw him back, taking his feet completely off the air, and he slammed into one of the wooden mannequins in his shop dressed in his recent pieces.
"Draziel!" Lyra screamed, her tone rebuking me. "Why did you even do that?" She ran fast to him. I leaned forward to grab her wrist and stop her. But then I pulled back, my fingers curling into a fist as I fought back the impulse.
Get a grip on yourself, Draziel. She is a human. A taboo in a beautiful wrap. Don't doom yourself for eternity. I muttered under my breath to myself, and I turned away, just as she helped Alfred to his feet.
I strolled about the room, pretending to be interested in the mannequins wearing different elegant dresses and the wooden racks of readymade clothes. But my mind kept slipping back to that moment. I bit my lower lip in reproach. How could I foolishly let myself do that to Alfred?
I heard Alfred jump to his feet behind me.
"I am sorry, sir," Lyra said to him. My whole body quivering as I forced the impulse not to turn back to them. I had no idea what I would do if I found him staring at her like that again.
"It's okay, ma'am. I have forgotten your boyfriend has quite a temper on him." Alfred chuckled.
I whirled sharply to them now. "She isn't my girlfriend," I snapped at him.
He grinned wryly, throwing his arms sideways in exaggeration. "Technically, I didn't say that. You did."
My eyes jumped from him to Lyra. And she turned her head quickly from me to hide something in her eyes—I had no idea what it was. But as I watched her stroll in uneven steps towards a clothes rack, I could tell instantly that she was hurt by my outbursts.
I turned back to Alfred, grinding my teeth, my fist quivering beside me in the effort to suppress my fury. "Just get her some clothes. Beautiful ones"
"Okay, Draziel." Alfred forced a grin, reading immediately the fury in my voice. He ran quickly to Lyra and guided her towards another chamber of his unusually large shop. "I have some elegant pieces I would love for you to try on, my lady,"
Lyra made a glance back at me. Below the mask of impassivity, I still glimpsed some tightness in her facial features that hinted at her still being hurt. I muttered under my breath, rebuking myself again for yelling those words out loud, as I watched her disappear with Alfred behind a massive rack of clothes.
I loitered around the chamber I was in, forcing myself to admire the robes he wore over the male mannequins.
I grunted. None of the robes seemed to interest me. My mind slowly drifted to her. The silence around me, almost strangling me. Just when I was about to rethink joining them in the chamber, Alfred stepped out.
"She is trying the clothes on," he forced a grin, striding carefully up to me.
I grunted an okay as I dragged my reluctant eyes and mind back to the robes. The sunlight filtering through the open windows cast golden brown patterns onto the floorboards. And when the robes couldn't take my mind off her, I busied myself with counting the number of floorboards the sunlight touched.
Alfred's voice had me turning back. "But she is a human, Draziel. I thought you said you don't deal with humans."
"She is a visitor and would soon leave for where she came." I said to him, turning back to count the floorboards.
"Where did she come from?"
I said nothing further, and silence trailed on between us for minutes. That was cue enough to Alfred that he was going to get nothing else from me.
Then he retreated to sit behind his desk. At that split instance, her scream tore through the air, sharp as a whip. And as always, without sparing even a second to think, I was teleporting to her.