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It would be far easier to pity her, however, if she was not unfairly bellicose in-between the states of her drunkenness. Like right now, for instance.
"I know what you did," she glared accusingly at him as he sat down, "Don't try to hide it."
So Fallen Angels could sense demonic power too. He filed that under interesting information no one cared about. Raynare grew angrier when his reply consisted of opening the lid to his leftovers and shifting through their contents with his chopsticks.
"What did she do to make you turn? Something indecent, I bet."
He did not reply. That only seemed to add more fuel to the fire.
"Did she let you touch her tits? Was that it? And you went over to her with your tail wagging like that mutt, Issei?"
He took a bite and instantly regretted it. The particular restaurant he had chosen was not exactly renowned in these parts. Their food seemed to lose all taste even after just one night of refrigerating. But then again, with his rather meager supply of cash, he could not afford to be picky.
"She let you feel her up? It wouldn't surprise me. She's a devil, after all. They'll do anything for power."
Really, if he had made a simple detour on his way back, and picked up some sauces at the local supermarket, he wouldn't be in this predicament.
"What makes her so popular? Why does she get to snap her fingers and everyone comes running to her? What's so special about her? She's just a filthy devil!" he noted that she was ranting now, the sentences she was stringing along barely coherent, "What makes her better than me!?"
Hmm… If he made the journey now, he could still make it. The supermarket usually closed very late.
"Answer me, damn it!"
A sweep of her arm cleared the table of most of its contents. Empty beer cans clattered to the floor. It was an almost childish gesture, but he was not surprised she was capable of it. Anger had a rather annoying way of throwing anything rational out the window.
His gaze switched from the debris that now lay cluttered over his carpet back to the one who had caused it. Her shoulders shook with emotion.
He sighed.
"You are drunk."
The woman gave him a withering stare.
"So what if I am? It's not like I have anything else to do!"
"Drinking is bad for your health," he replied simply.
Raynare laughed. It was a bitter sound, but the bitterness was directed towards herself.
"And now we're just going to pretend you care about me? You? The one who turned me into this… this… weakling!? That's just rich."
"Would you rather be dead instead?"
She glared at him. The fury on her face made her all the more beautiful. But that was most likely the demon inside of him speaking.
"Answer the damn question," she leaned in to hiss, "What makes her better than me?"
"She doesn't drink for one," his nose wrinkled as her breath hit him, filled with the fetid odor of alcohol, "And she doesn't smell like shit."
She stared at him in open mouthed astonishment. Then wry humor entered her eyes and she slumped back down, defeated.
"I feel like shit," she conceded.
"Stop drinking then," he said and resumed eating.
She watched him in silence for a while, her gaze hooded and dark. In any other circumstance, he would have ignored it, but the Persona in his mind was especially willful, and he felt annoyance at her stare when he normally wouldn't.
"Yes?"
"You are Nephilim," she said without preamble.
Ah. So it was going to be this sort of conversation.
"I do not recall admitting that I was Nephilim," he replied, "In fact, I distinctly recall remaining silent on the issue."
"In a situation like that, silence may as well been an admission of guilt," Raynare countered.
"Hmm," was all he said in response.
She glared at him again, but he was well used to her anger by now. It hardly phased him.
"You are Nephilim," she said and then gestured towards her surroundings, "So why all this?"
"What do you mean?"
"The Nephilim are legendary. Their status amongst both angels and devils are near myth-like. More than that. The records are very vague on what they were," the woman hesitated, "What little information that exists says that they were giants who were born from the union of angels and human women. They also say that the Nephilim crafted golden palaces when the race of man was barely eking out an existence in mud huts," she stared at him, almost reprovingly, "You are no giant," and gestured once more towards her surroundings, "and the rat hole you are living in certainly isn't a palace."
Now that was unfair. It was his rat hole, after all.
"Perhaps I am not Nephilim at all," he suggested.
"No. You are," Raynare refused to budge on the issue, "Dohnaseek says you are Nephilim, so you must be."
"Just because he says I am does not mean I really am."
"Dohnaseek was an archivist in the High Heaven's Scholarium when he could still be counted among their kind. He was privy to information not usually known by the rest of us. If he says you are Nephilim, it is because he has good reason to. Even after he fell, he still seeks new knowledge, most of it forbidden."
He glanced at her in interest.
"Is that why he fell? Seeking forbidden knowledge?"
The Fallen Angel pursed her lips together.
"Partly."
"And the others?" he prodded.
"Kalawarner has always been big on authority," Raynare shrugged, "Before she fell, she was the very picture of the stern angel, disdainful towards lower beings and worshipful of those higher up on the ladder. When she learned of God's death, something within her broke. It was supposed to be a secret, but secrets always have a way of leaking out. That knowledge and knowing so many Archangels perished in the last battle shattered her resolve. As for Mittelt, I don't know. All I know is that she is a vindictive, spiteful little brat."
She frowned, as though recalling something and glowered at him.
"Since when did this become about us!? I was asking you the questions!" the Fallen slammed her palms against the table and rose once more, "Why are you sitting here doing nothing when you can be out there proclaiming to the world that you are Nephilim!? What's the point of just lingering here!? Why did you even agree to protect me!?"
The outburst left her panting. He watched her quietly for a while. That last question he could answer.
"There was once a tower," he said finally, "And within that tower, a boy sought to climb the winding stairs. I was friends with him."
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