You should be more alarmed when there’s no chaos. It’s like the calm before the storm, as they say.

Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 1st Generation
Current Date: May 3, 2058

Character: Kimuri Kunika
Race: Demon
Age: 98, physically about 28
Current residence: Atheria City, Eresiel
 

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What is it about life out there that makes people act just so? I know this is very possibly generalization and that there are plenty out and about who do not act this way, but my memories of the world outside before I came to live within the safety of Atheria was not a wholly positive one. I know that it is tainted by the fact that quite a few seemed to believe demons to be nothing but bad and terrible and I still have no true idea as to the origin of this particular misconception.

Not that it would ever have been my place to change the view of the world on these things, was it? No, I don’t believe so. A single entity against the world; HA. That is laughable at this point, and I know that I am more than young enough that the misconception itself was settled into the depths of others long, so, so long before I ever came to be.

There is the rare day when I find myself brooding; lost in memories of back-then. I hardly know the trigger that brings these to the surface; in a way, it seems moot to try and find out. It isn’t as though my brooding self is bad company on those days though I am quieter and far more likely to keep to myself than mingle at all with the others. They are rare occurrences and that is for the best, I’m certain.

It is fairly hard to tell what memory decides to haunt me on these rare brooding days and the one that took its spot in my life only a few nights ago was no exception—I had been fine during the day but upon the sun setting and the sight of a very, very delayed snow storm that covered the cleared grasses and pavements with a few inches of snow, something changed in my mind and I was swept away.

Even now, as I try to process the finer details of what it was about that memory that stuck with me, I wonder why the storm triggered it. There was no storm in this memory, though the person I was speaking to spoke of a storm; a metaphorical one about upcoming chaos. Something about how one should have been worried when there was no chaos as it was the calm before the storm.

I recall how I rolled my eyes at such a claim. Chaos was not in my nature, though, as I am a demon and, as many had preconceptions about our nature, I suppose it holds no surprise that many would think we would possibly be surrounded by chaos if given a chance. I have never cared for chaos—this is not about the keeper of the title but the point of things being chaotic themselves—and while I know that some do thrive on it, it wasn’t my cup of tea.

There is very little else that I recall from that particular memory. So, when I do say that the brooding, memory-roaming days are uncommon, I do mean it. And, truly so, the vast majority of the time this brooding only lasts a short while. From possibly an hour to half a day at the very most and that last one happened once, I’m fairly certain.

I hadn’t been feeling great on that day, to begin with. My wavering health had left me feeling a little grumpy around the edges and I’d spent most of that day just settled out of the way because I had no true desire to interact with my pairs; it made the most sense, in my foggy brain, that I would do no good to any soul and that was that. I kept to myself, I brooded, and I swam in whatever memories desired their spot on the surface. The rest is history—literally.

The idea of living in constant chaos is a strange one. That one should worry when things are calm because it means that chaos is coming is just nonsense to me in the end. It is possible that when things are calm, eventually something might come to be but that seems rather rare. I like the quiet times as they are. They have never been precursors to chaos, not unless there was a certain energy in the air and it has been so long since I have felt that energy—before the fog, I believe—that I know how wrong the strange one in my memory was.

To them, life might have been that way, but to me and, hopefully, many others, when there is no chaos, it hardly means that we are in the calm before the storm; it hardly means that something is afoot and worrying should be done; that is not how these things do work out, in the end, and I am glad for that.

Final Word Count: 817

I would never want you to think you weren’t strong enough.

 
Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Kimuri Kunika
Race: Demon
Age: 96, physically about 28
Current residence: Atheria City, Eresiel
Final Word Count: 719 words
 

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Where do I begin?

I suppose that every story should have its beginning and its end, though mine and that of those around me have beginnings with no end in sight. I don’t know how good that is, though it might not be so terrible when you know how to handle the eternity that is offered to you as that is what it all is about, isn’t it?

One of the things I have learned to accept as a fault of mine, long before I even came here, is that I seem to portray the look of someone who is expecting just so much more of others than he really does. If that makes no sense, let me put it in a simpler way. It is Yonáka who told me that I had this air about me, but he states that I look as though I expect the world from those I meet and yet, trust me, it isn’t the case.

Maybe it is part of my make; maybe it something is in how I just hold myself, refusing to be dragged down to the level of other that stoop so low as to make you feel terrible about yourself, I just don’t know.

What I do know, and that is something I’ve had to bring up a few times, is that I never would want someone to think that they are not strong enough to manage something when it is clear that they can. I had to have this discussion with the ageless idiot several times but, in these cases, I’m uncertain whether or not it was because he saw that in me, or simply because of all of the years he spent in that cage of his. I don’t know.

I’ve learned more about myself while living here than I did while I was out there and that says a lot. That’s not to say I didn’t learn a lot while I was out there, furthest from. I learned so much—one of these things being how others seem to perceive demons and my behaviour might stem from that, it’s hard to tell.

Looking back, I don’t know that I ever had any doubts as to what my behaviour was like, not in a general sense. I held myself with my head up high, I walked with my shoulders straight, I displayed my wings without a worry about what people would think because, let’s face it, people can go fuck themselves. If they don’t like me for who and how I am, they can suck it and then deal with it.

I’m not someone that has great patience for the general idiocy of the population as it was before the world ended, I can’t help it. I believe that people can be great but at times, they just need a little bit of extra attention. Those that fall into what I call the pit cannot be saved. Those who adamantly believe in a power of sorts that states they should only do this or that thing, but that they should treat these people or that one over there differently, I can’t stand for those. No one deserves to be treated like shit because somehow you believe they’re below you.

Which, I suppose, brings me back to the fact that I seemed to present myself in such a way that I made it seem as though I might have thought myself better than a lot of other people and, thinking back about it, it does make me smile a little. I’ve worked hard to change these habits of mine and I do promise that I hold no one to any unknown standards. I only expect everyone to live their lives as best as they can and to give everyone a fair chance.

I am not out to make people feel as though they are not good enough, even though I know I may act quite aloof most of the time but that is behaviour learned from the roaming I’ve done before in my life. Roaming that happened before Yonáka took his place in my life. He came and went, this one, but I suppose it’s one of those things, isn’t it?

I think the life we live now, the three of us, is simply fine as it stands.

You certainly know how to make me feel special. Not really. Perhaps even the opposite.

 
Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Kimuri Kunika
Race: Demon
Age: 95, physically about 28
Final Word Count: 790 words
 

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I know I’ve mentioned before that a lot of people used to have, and some probably still do, a lot of misconceptions about demons. Quite a few people believe that we’re nothing but darkness and evil, that we’re going to steal their soul, that we’re going to maim them and destroy them and just generally be bad.

For the most part, in my life, I have been very well behaved. The vast majority of the people who knew me at all or even to some depth had never once known of what I truly was. Had they seen my wings? Some had. The thing is, you can get black feathers through a few different mutations. I’ve seen angels with black feathers, I’ve seen demons with black feathers, I’ve seen bird-folks with them too. It wasn’t a tell-tale sign.

There was one particular time in my life where I purposely acted like an absolute arsehole, though. Even then, I wouldn’t claim my behaviour was worthy of being called demoniac. I was just being as I was because the woman in question was acting in a way that made it clear she deserved to be smacked right on down to earth.

To make a long story short, in the years before I did come to this place—a lifetime ago, that—I wandered a lot. I did have a home but it was somewhat rare that I went back there unless I truly needed to. I’ve met a lot of people during these wanderings in my life and most of these people were good people, I didn’t mingle with them unless there was a need.

A bit like the young woman in the hospital. She was such a good soul. She was too young when she passed but that is one of those things mortals do when they’re sick. I met the other woman not long after I’d left the funerals of the other. A few hours at the most, actually.

I was wandering through a mostly quiet parking lot where this woman was stuffing groceries into the back of her car, but as she did, she was constantly giving someone I couldn’t see a pretty nasty attitude. Now, usually, I would have minded my own business but after the funerals, I was feeling a little humbled still by the knowledge the dying woman had offered me. It changes someone, seeing such a good person die, I think. I hadn’t even known her that long.

So I did wander a little closer. She wasn’t wearing a Bluetooth earpiece and those weren’t all that common just yet. The radio was off in the car—the car wasn’t running at all—and the heat was actually pretty stifling. In the backseat, there was a little boy in a booster seat, he couldn’t have been much more than three or four and he was clearly uncomfortable with the heat, he’d whine every few moments and with each of his whines, his mother would lash out at him, telling him to shut up.

Now, I know that tempers can run short in the heat; I know that it’s highly possible she could have been having a pretty bad day but it was no reason to take it out on her son, so I formulated a short plan that I was sure would only take a few days to fulfill in which time I was hoping that when I’d cross her again, she’d be a better mother.

Well, I spent three weeks keeping tabs on her and her behaviour never changed. She was always in a piss-poor mood, she was always taking it out on her son and the only time she seemed to be in a somewhat good mood was when there was some guy—never the same night-to-night—between her legs. Don’t ask me to explain how I know but let’s just say that she wasn’t very private about her meet-up spots.

She also left her son on his own during these meet-up spots. I assume she thought she wouldn’t be gone long enough.

To make that getting-longer story even shorter? Let’s just say that her son’s paternal grandparents ended up taking care of him and I think I might have taught her a lesson about basic-human interaction and behaviour. She thought I was pretty sweet at first but when I turned the tables around, she realized that I knew how to make someone feel special but certainly not in a good way.

Do I regret any of it? Not really. During the dark years, I actually came across the boy—a man by then—in question and things had turned out so well for him.

You’ll never be as bad as you think you are.

 
Timeline/World: Atheria – 1st Generation
Characters: Kimuri Kunika
Race: Demon
Age: 94, physically about 28
Final Word Count: 594 words
 

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I’ve heard it all and I’ve seen it in their eyes as I travelled. I never gave it much thought, refusing to let their belief of what I should have been and how I should have acted dictate my life.

So many people seem to believe that demons are dark, evil entities. That we’re born for destruction and that our only aims and goals in life are to ruin everything that surrounds us. They’re so wrong.

Sure, plenty of demons are hell-bent on creating chaos but I’ve seen plenty of angels who’ve ‘gone rogue’ and done exactly the same. It is not our genes who define us and certainly not the lack of feathers on our wings.

The vast majority of people I have encountered had no idea as to my origins; I kept my wings to myself, hidden thanks to a charm that had been given to me by an angel. A feathery companion I had met in my much younger years, someone I had looked up to until they did the unthinkable—at least as far as those who believe in everything black and white would love to think—he went rogue. They caught him and his life came to an abrupt end. There were no other ways to go about it.

Only a small handful of people who met me were ever told about the blood that ran through my veins, about that which made me, in the eyes of so many, a monster. Some turned their back, they looked at me with frightened eyes as though I would harm them despite the fact that I had been nothing but kind to them since we’d first started dealing together.

One, in particular, a young woman I met in a hospital—she was outside, bundled up warmly in the middle of the summer and I admit that I was a curious young soul back then—whom I let in on my secret. She was dying and we got to talking about life, about the light, about the possibility of rebirth and so on, I think we spent hours out there and I have very fond memories of that time.

The one thing she told me that left me confused and actually a little frustrated at the idea of her death as her mind seemed boundless and her wisdom far-reaching for someone so young. She told me that I never would be as bad as I thought I was.

It left a mark on me.

I might not have listened to the talk of others about what they thought of demons and how they believed we should all act but there still was a generally held belief that we were bad and in a small way, though I had refused to admit it to myself, I did see myself as bad, as demons were ‘meant’ to be and while I acted against that belief, I still somewhat thought that I wouldn’t ever be seen as good and that no amount of trying to prove myself, I would never be seen as anything other than a demon.

She changed the way I thought and I wish her parents had been as open about things as she was. I was there at her funeral, I didn’t engage her parents in discussion but by the crosses they wore and their talk of their mighty god, I knew I was better off keeping my distance. I didn’t get to tell them just how amazing their daughter was but I don’t think it would have changed much.

I thought that I had proved myself to you ten times over by now.

Timeline/World: Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Kimuri Kunika
Race: Demon
Age: 92, physically about 28
Final Word Count: 531 words

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The path of memories is not always a pleasing one. I actually think that most of the time, the path of memories if it takes me back to a life before the one I had one is an altogether unpleasant one and yet I find myself walking down that road so often. Not out of choice most of the time, it simply is how my brain works, how my body reacts. It is not something that is easy to put to words and I suppose I should not. The path of memories is something that happens mainly in dreams and there is no stopping it, not for me.

A lifetime ago, which is something I can use literally in a way considering how I had lived until this haven, I had been in a rather poorly fitting body. It hadn’t quite been strong enough to hold itself together for me, not with the energy I always carry in my being. This body lasted barely a few years, up until it was a teenager perhaps and it was one of my more painful lifetimes.

I remember spending many hours just in bed, unable to move from the crippling pain of the power trying to fit the shell and being unable to really settle in. If it was not a migraine that forced me to keep all curtains closed, it was my body that was unable to shut off its pain receptors and even just the brush of the bedsheets over me was little more than excruciating pain.

Often, I would find myself weeping, begging the powers that were to give me a chance, to let me settle. Had I not proved myself? Had I not handle my past shells so well they had lasted me longer than others of my kind who broke through their shells so quickly it was almost senseless to give them a new one?

I lost counts of the nights when I would be simply in bed, trying to find sleep but unable to, either from the aches and pains or from my brain refusing to shut itself down to sleep and rest, almost terrified that the body it resided in, would fail during the night.

One has to understand, the change of bodies, the rebirthing process has to take place, or at least has to be started willingly. If I am asleep and the body dies that is it for me. If I am dying but still conscious enough to realize it, the process will begin. Many have lost their ways like this, where the body would die during a bout of exhausted sleep or unconsciousness. It only ever happens when the body is not strong enough to hold the power together, of course, and those instances were not common but still happened every so often when the reborn shell simply was not strong enough to hold together.

I suppose it does not really matter now. I am likely the last one of my species, my kind and with the world as it is, keeping this shell young and strong, I have little fear of needing a new shell any time soon, it actually is quite comforting.

Away

Timeline/World: Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Kimuri Kunika
Race: Demon
Age: 92, physically about 28
Final Word Count: 550 words

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Some memories remain. They always do, it is inevitable and cannot be simply overcome, not for him. Those memories, however, are buried deep and are kept under a lock and key system, in his mind, that cannot be breached. Plenty have tried and failed. Some have tried and suffered dire consequences while others have lost their lives in the attempts.

They used to believe that it would be simple, it would bring the end of all things as all had ever known it… but this they managed themselves and it plunged the world into an era of darkness. Thinking back on the end of days, it brings a faint chuckle out of him and he shakes his head, wings curling somewhat behind his back as he tries not to dwell on the past.

His body was young, this incarnation of his soul was delicate yet but the soul itself, the memories and knowledge that were within were much older, older still than those he shared his life with. He had seen atrocities during his lives, again and again, each locked away into that one box, out of reach.

Pandora’s box, perhaps, though he would not have called it that.

He recalls every passing second of the hundred years their city has lived through in the span of two days, as though he had been outside of its shield like the Keepers of the Gates and of Time. He had been, in a way, though there was no point in talking about it. It was inevitable, like the demise of the world that had come perhaps sooner than it should have.

Shaking his head, he closes his eyes a moment, inhaling deeply and breathing out a faint, quiet chuckle. He would sleep more. His nights had been short lately but that would change, he knew. The gnawing at the corner of his box had been squashed, whatever entity had tried to enter its content vanished. It had been trying for a few weeks at this point, it had disrupted his sleeping pattern but now he knew it would settle again. He would be able to close his eyes and simply sleep.

He would do so deeply once more, appreciating not having to keep part of his mind awake and aware of the going ons around him and those he shared his life with. At least he had managed to keep himself and them from harm. He still remembered the parting, when the devil had pulled strings. It had not been pleasant and one of the harsher times in his life. At least this particular body.

There had been so much worse before but he spent little time thinking about past bodies, past lives, past everything. It wasn’t needed.

Certainly, he had expected his current body to expire long ago, it would have, out in the wild and this city made him itch at times. He was far from used to living so long in the same skin but, even so, as time goes by, he does get used to the thought a bit more. This skin is comfortable enough it its own way, it looks good, it is healthy. He has no real issue with it and he’s mostly content to keep it. So long as it keeps on holding true.