Nrya decided to go to a store for an urban adventure
even though she lives in a mansion with her
assistant-slash-guardian-slash-not-boyfriend.
"Var-sol, what is this?"
"Soup."
"And this?"
"Soup."
"And this?"
"Soup."
"What about this one."
"Nyra they’re all soup."
"And why is that?"
"Because we're in the soup isle."
"What does this say on it?"
He looked over the box's description but decided to
read it anyway. Rolling his eyes at the poor slogan.
"Sally's Valley Soup. 'the freshest soup every made!'
Made in Conille, founded in (08940-21-5), expires
(20591-30-2). Contains Franzett chicken soup, bread
(crumbs), and spring water. Chicken flavoured soup.
See side of box for allergies."
The Kindred spoke with a soft but tightened and
annoyed tone. With an air of a radio host talking about
the weather. And not reading off a pointless, and
Time-wasting obnoxiously small box.
He understood why she did not understand store
'etiquette' and simple logic but it can be irritating how
simple minded she could be at times.
Oh and ahh, but the naiveness of situations around her
can be a delight when he can force her infirm limbs to
rely on him for support and crush that small, pretty
face with his hands.
"So I know which one is best to choose from and
compare."
"Actually. You don't need to choose at all since /your/
opinion doesn't matter because of how insignificant it
is for this. And besides we have soup it's the exact
same."
"How will I know that if /I/ don't try?"
"It's exactly the same; taste, touch, sound, and looks.
Do you think I'm not capable of generating something
so /perfunctory/ and plain?"
"Fine I'll have this one."
" that's the same one."
"Is there anything I can have?"
"How about this."
He tightened his grip on her with his arm as he took
them to another aisle across from them, picking up a
box of goodness-knows-what and read it.
"Here. 'Chocolate liqueur ' imported by Frinaveen.
It'll make you nauseous for a couple of days since with
your allergy of pure water. Oh, but you can't have this, it
has alcohol in it."
Var-sol scrunched up his face, disgusted at the fact
they would put chocolate with an alcoholic drink.
Might as well of gave him bloody arsenic with sugar
for all he could care.
"I can handle it."
"My, what a pernickety little thing you are. Fine if you
be sick don't blame me."
Var-sol was just about to put the box in the trolley
when he switched the contents inside with hot
chocolate, knowing she would not like that and she'd
be on Death's door by the time she'd be half finished
with 1 cup. Whether it is just Nyra or all Demons, she
seems to have as low tolerance to liqueur and gets
knocked out when after having 1 drink.
Pure water is said to cause Demons pain, when, in
actuality, they just act like cats when seeing a
cucumber.
Laughing to himself at the idea of her acting like a cat
would be very entertaining, although she does act like
one all time. Such as- riiighht now.
Nyra is pawing at the bells dangling on a ribbon
hanging on a rack, watching it sway back and forth as
a ' Jingle - Jangle' sound emits from it.
"Are you going to stare at that all day or come over to
the next aisle?"
"Of course not. And I'm getting a turn to push the
trolley. "
Demons can easily get annoyed and short-tempered
by the smallest of things. This is shown as a classic
symptom and normal behaviour of SCED. - Short
Control of Emotions Disorder - notes by Dr. K Hysterkill
Var-sol was thinking of all possible, horrendous
scenarios that could happen to her if she got her
hands on the trolley; speeding down the aisles and
crashing into someone. Pushing it and tripping over,
ramming into stacked cans in pyramids, pushing the
trolley at high speeds and splatting onto a wall.
His face tightened at the scenarios going on in his
head, not helping his feelings of not wanting to be here
and stared with jealously at the white creamy wall
next to him. The whiter the wall, the darker the
crimson liquid will show.
You could really do with breaking someone's damned
child's bones and paint their innards all over those
pearly walls and disgustingly bright lights where there
was not concept of whether it was day or night, just
bloody Sweet Sally's grocery time.
*Sigh* "You can have a turn at the soft toys aisle. And I
was only doing some light persiflage with you."
They soon got to the soft toy’s aisle.
Var-sol satisfied with his control back on the trolley as he had his back and his arms resting on the trolley tilting his head back as he turned to looked over a Nyra, who a small doll of a black crow in her hands and found it had a voice box that could copy what you say.
Nyra pressed the button in the centre.
“I love you and you love me! *Crow noises* hug me!”
She frowned at the doll in her hands. Wondering why it would say a word that strong to someone.
“Ish gan Mor nir. Ket-ket?”
It repeated it back in a squeak “Ish gan Mor nir! Ket-ket!”
Var-sol leaned over looking at her with a smirk.
She’s such an… /fascinating/ being. He mused at that she spoke Tonaira, a language fluent by any old Seraphim that knew it, which no one is around to speak it. But if there is no one would.
His species was not apart of Angels but is his own entirely. He can take the form of one.
But he is very fluent in it so knowing what she said made him chuckle a bit.
‘I don’t love you. Okay-yes?’
Ket – The common turn for ‘yes’ and ‘okay’. Can also be used as slang when adding another ket on being ket-ket: Kay-kay, yes-yes

Nyra picked up another doll and put the other back. Putting a finger at the offending heart. Digging in and watching it with a blank expression. But then thought better and let her grip of her nail digging in stop. Knowing she would get in trouble with Var-sol and he’d have to pay for damaged property and would – not be pleased in the least - at her.
“How about this one? Oh, look at that! They have dolls of you how cute.”
“looks like making you a face of friendliness to the public worked!”
Var-sol snickered.
The fools don’t realise that she couldn’t care about them or their praise.
But neither could he, to be frank. How easy it is to fool the masses with a show of power and clam the highest status, and just make her hum a few songs.
Nyra picked up the doll he was looking at. She felt the fabric, soft and warm.
It was all black with short hair and a frilly white and red dress – one that looked like one of the ones she wore at a soirée – with a white bow in the doll’s hair and small horns.
The label attached to one of the hands said: ‘Enael, Bloom Gala Edition – rose’s thorn dress. Made in Venesset.’ Her name was Nyra, but when she first transferred to the Embrilla of Supranatural Research and Medical Branch it was changed to Enael as they did not know her name at the time, and it was her test subject name code E.
Only Var-sol knows her actual name and her doctor.
“Do you want it?”
Nyra looked into the black beady eyes that stared back into her soul.
“Does it look like me?”
“Hmm. A bit.”
“Does it look like pain?”
“What?”
“…Nothing.”
She squeezed the doll’s neck and put it back on the shelf, giving it a side glance and moved onto the dolls in the section at the bottom.
Var-sol walked a step to the one she picked up. Picking it up by the horn and looked at it and back at her. Nyra had a hand on the shelf with her legs criss-cross bent as usual. He could see a small quiver from her legs trying to keep balance.
He’d have to do some more walking exercises with her. Var-sol had his left arm crossed at his right with his right arm propping it’s elbow on it. Holding the doll with his left arm against his chest.
He was looking with a concerned glance but he had a small smile hiding with his right hand on his face. Smiling at the fact that /he/ had done that. That /he/ was able to make /her/ forced to rely on him for support. He felt he was winning something as he stared at her longer before teleporting the doll somewhere only he would know.
He walked over to her and she looked up. How… small she was. She stared with a blank look but nervousness showed, /fear/ was a better term. And he relished in that. He yanked her arm and dragged her along with him. She had to dig her nails into his arm to not fall. Var-sol was going at a steady pace, but with her small body Nyra had to walk fast to keep herself from being dragged or slipping.
She bumped into him twice. Twice. Which made her frown. How did she manage to bump into him? Sure, she was close enough to feel his arm against the side of her head but she would’ve been able to have enough room to not bump into him.
His hand twitched when she bumped into him. Trying to resist the urge to dig his hand on her wrist in.
She nothing as they stopped at a till with a line in front of them. It seems they were done and were going to pay for their items.
When they stopped Nyra slightly staggered, feeling s dizzy as ever as everything became a blur and the only clear thing she could focus on was him. She could hear the music box getting louder. Bad sign. People stared at her seeing the display of her almost falling into the trolley.
There were some snickers from a group across.
Var-sol stared at the people who were looking, remembering the faces that had looked at Nyra like that and especially that group that had snickered. He was deciding what punishment he could use best for their deaths.
Nyra focused on his sleeve. Trying to block out her vision around her as she listened to the music box. Hearing the beat of her pulse in time with the clicks.
He looked down at her, pleased at seeing her barely aware of what was going on. He could see the fear and pleading in her eyes. Trying to make herself as small as she can by tilting her head closer into his shoulder.