“Thank you,” I mumble, stumbling over my words as my eyes catch on their unusual hands. It’s all golden metal, skinny as a bone with too many joints, sticking to objects like geckos. They don’t even need their thumbs.
I glance over at Dusk, baffled, but the bastard is only amused by my reaction. Upon catching my eye, he raises his wine glass in my direction in a silent ‘cheers.’
Sure. Fuck it. I’ll take the excuse to chug some angel wine.
After a subtle tip of my glass in return, I easily down half the bubbly, white liquid. It’s surprisingly sweet, sparkling with carbonation, and hasa more citric flavor than others I’ve tried. I don’t even really like wine, and it’s delicious.
The servants return within moments, carrying large, covered platters with their gangly top limbs. In synchrony, they reach past us, placing the platters in the center of the table.
Once the covers are removed, the display is beautiful enough for a painting. The spread of food covers the center of our end of the table, family-style, for us to pick and choose our own portions.
Right. Because we’re just one big, happy, murderous family.
As the servants withdraw, I give the two angels one last glance, intent on judging how safe it is for me to eat without them tearing out each other’s throats. Luckily for me, they seem too preoccupied with piling food on their silver dishes to have much interest in each other.
Cautiously, I follow their lead, filling my own plate with obviously familiar foods. After seeing the monster farm animals we passed on our way through the city, I’m not about to try the sausage. Even the steak looks a bit suspicious. But, thankfully, there’s some very obvious roast chicken, so I won’t have to swear off meat completely.
The next several minutes of our meal are filled only with the slight sounds of utensils scraping on plates. It is uncomfortable at best and torturous at worst.
I think long and hard about how I might engage Abaddon in conversation, or if I even should. Surely there has to besomethingI can say to diffuse the tension. If I have to spend every meal here in such painful silence, I won’t last long in this place. Not without losing my mind.
I clear my throat, deciding to start with the basics. “So, um. Abaddon—if I can call you that. Is it, uh… just you and the locusts down here? No other angels?”
His responding voice is civil enough, though very stilted. “It is largely the locusts and me, though we are kept company by some creatures of the night. Travelers do come and go, with our lodging mostly benefiting angels.”
He goes back to eating his food without looking at me.
With how unaccustomed he is to the modern nuances of conversation, I might as well be trying to communicate with a ghost.
I flash Dusk a look, trying to silently communicate the question of ‘What do I do?’
Unfortunately, he just shrugs in a very ‘Not my problem’response, causing me to roll my eyes and glare at him.
Abaddon must notice our complete silence, because he eventually looks up from his plate. “You are the first human in the Abyss, if that’s what you were wanting to know.”
“Oh, uh…” I panic, not knowing how to respond. “So I’m like… a special snowflake, huh?”
Why—whydid I think I could make a joke? I want to kick myself for how awkward it comes out. Even more so after receiving a strange look of confusion from him.
Dusk, on the other hand, looks quite humored. I’m sure it isn’t my joke that he’s laughing at, though. No, that’s all for me and how easily I’m embarrassing myself.
After a brief pause, Abaddon replies by taking me literally, “You have the metaphysical key that will open the entirety of the Abyss. So, yes, your soul has been blessed with a gift that is very… ‘special.’”
“Great,” I swallow, ignoring the breathy cackle that comes from Dusk.
My moment of defeat doesn’t last long, thankfully. An idea strikes me. If Abaddon is going to make every interaction with him deathly serious, then I might as well make the most of it.
“Which reminds me…” I start, watching as he pauses eating to look at me again. Maybe it’s just his face, but he doesn’t seem to be enjoying this poor excuse for a conversation any more than I am. I have to work quickly.
“When you and Dusk were, um,arguingearlier…” That’s the nicest way I can think to put it. “You mentioned something about reincarnation. Is that a thing that everyone does?”
He stares at me as if I’ve just asked a ridiculously stupid question, and he needs to check if I’m serious. “No. Everyone who exists only getsone soul. Do they not teach this to you in human school?”
Dusk leans back in his seat, clearly entertained. “Yeah, Dawn. If they’re not teaching you about souls, then what do you people even go to school for?”
My death glare does nothing to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. As if I’m not having trouble enough conversing with this dinosaur, Dusk justhasto instigate.
Two can play that game, though.
