⌭ Emerald Eye ⌭ [Part I]

Though bipedal and humanoid, Demlorai was far from sapien. His planet was long lost to war, home to billions. Creations of Ulterious— The god of light— his species had within them a basketball’s size of her essence. L’tharum.

Amongst super-cosmic abilities, it afforded them bioluminous skin and other majestic features. They all came in different shapes, sizes and colors, much like humans. Some were bright solid hues, while others were an array of swatches in varying design, each breathtaking. They could even shape themselves in rarer cases. Though not the last, Demlorai was one of the very few of his kind left— plus Oscar. Ulterious’ son.

Demlorai looked on at the camp of one hundred and forty-seven or so people. Nine feet of blue and white light, mingling with yellow hues. Dressed in equally brilliant garments, also made of light such as regal deep greens and red. He was a well defined specimen. An angular and chiseled face, with metallically smooth skin made him statuesque and intimidating to most, but to the refuge of humans before him he was protector and mentor. He was uncertain of the location of others of his kind, but he could feel them in his Xahmma’s depths. Distant. Flickering. Perhaps frightened?

“Demlo’!” A strong and small voice cut through his ponderings. Demlorai closed both eyes taking a silent, bothered breath. “Greeting’s lady Azra. Though your tone suggests disdain, I suspect it is more misdirected frustration at yet another query you know will end in vain— yes?”

The tall being looked down in time to see the young woman cock an immeasurably irritated eye brow up at him. It’s intensity could be considered a feat in and of itself, given the disparity of their sizes. Azra was if nothing else— truly undaunted by anyone or anything.

“Is being anti a common trope amongst you glow sticks?” The girl questioned with venom laced syllables. “Aren’t you supposed to be who I come to with problems? Like a super sci-fi guardian? How come you talk back? And no is like your favorite goddamn word. I’d like to trade up for a Cronicom. Enoch edition. Final season.”

She spouted rhetorical, after rhetorical, through clenched teeth before ending the diatribe with yet another reference Demlorai was ill equipped to understand. He cared not to. Most the girl's words were lost on him. And either rude, mean or foolish. Usually a trifecta.

Demlorai sighed. “Yes indeed, m’lady you are welcome to my assistance at any given moment, as young master Oscar instructed me to provide such at your behest. Thankfully only for the duration of his absence— may it end soon.” Demlo turned from his small overlook so they faced one another. Arm’s rested in his back’s nape with fisted hands. Rather orderly he was.

Demlorai mused. “However, he did not command a lack of my own discretion. In fact he encouraged it, in his awareness of your somewhat unreasonable nature. His words.” Raising a pointer finger to his chin. “That said I believe we should discuss your, but more importantly my— definition of what could and should be considered problematic to the point of politely requesting my...loyalties.” Demlo gestured with a pleasant sweeping motion of his raised hand as if to say ‘Have a seat will you’. Then curled most of the appendages to leave a single stern pointer. Azra glared, upset at his constant poise.

“For example: In this moment I know you’re going to ask about the young master— as you have continuously for the past forty-two nights and days— and when I tell you, that I do not know and have heard just as little as you or any, you will lash out with your words. Hurtfully. Like the last forty-two nights; And days. That is a problem worth discussion. And for the record, I am not anti. I’m a rather positive individual. I glow.”

Demlorai ended his retort with a slightly indignant, but mostly proud air. Like a child who’d for the first time stumped a parent with concrete evidence. Slowly his raised arm and pointer rejoined the other at his back again.

Azra huffed through her nose and stared for a moment. Pushing at her bottom lip with her whole tongue, like it might actually go through.

“I...want...an Enoch.” she whispered softly through still clenched teeth, but so they could both hear her. “Nyona needs you.” She grunted curtly. Spinning on her heel, Demlorai watched her stomp away, swinging arms and muttering insults aimed at his pride.

He gestured with his longest blue finger at her back, before promptly blipping away.

⥋ ⥐ ⥊

Entering the medic housing, Demlorai was greeted by many healing and wounded. Sunken faces and hardlined jaws . “Sir.” The tall being, turned to see the face of Egg, looking dutifully up at him. An odd moniker for one as gangly as he was, but his apparel choice is what made it so; Ever sporting round fatigues in poofy cloak and poncho fashion.

“She’s this way.” Before he could respond the boy was off, pep propelling his steps through the winding corridors. Despite the encampment being of refugees, it was made rather formidable with the application of wielder abilities. The housing’s throughout were made of smooth sedimentary clay like constructs. Makings of a reluctant Azra.

Despite her bitter edged attitude, all that she architected was rather artful. After a third and fourth turn, Egg halted at the end of the longest corridor within the housing. A special one added within the last couple weeks. The sediment here was rougher than the rest by far. More formidable, but craggy and unwelcoming.

Cloudy liquid, root like patterns lined the walls, some dripping to form strange luminesce crystals, varying in silvery hues lighting the corridor. Following the roots, they led to an open doorway— void of a door— that descended downward into darkness.

Demlo stood for a moment marveling at its majesty, but was mired, by what he knew it was capable of. Beauty and death can coexist I suppose. Nodding to Egg, the boy looked down the hall and back at the tall man. “Be careful Demlo… I mean sir.”

Demlorai smiled kindly. “Worry not my young Egg. I’ve had time to assess my last brush with what lies beyond and developed a...well somewhat brutish approach, but an assuredly effective method for containing the situation. I’ll be alright I suspect.” Egg nodded in trust and Demlorai returned the gesture with a deep bow.

Every youth he'd ever come across in this world harboured a palpable strength in their eyes. Egg’s was no less evident than Brae or Oscar’s. There was truly something special about the ones who fought like them. For others. Remembering a time with the siblings a wisp of a smile tugged at his lips corners. It was swiftly extinguished by regret.

Once Egg was out of sight, Demlo’s ethereal fabric began to change as did he, stepping into the corridor, making way for its end. His frame morphed to one more chiseled with enlarged muscles in his, now, gazelle-like lower extremities. His shoulders, forearms and his chest were laid bare, widening and becoming more corded.

Bronze red colored runes beneath his skin, spiraled up his arms to his deltoids and down his back, and new ephemeral fabrics of orange and black bunched around his waist, descending into leg garments more suited for combat. And lastly large ornate bracers formed, reaching from wrists to elbows.

“I go in your name, mother.” He said to no one. Into the dark then. With a look of detached, but grave intention, Demlorai stepped slowly into the corridor and carefully waded through the pitch engulfed steps. Ignoring his concerned hearts pace.