Time: Directly before the beginning of Shax's War
Place: Opal, Planetary Resort
Theft. Ness strolled through the resort's entertainment district, pondering. It wasn't as if he thought he could reform demons. That was a silly thought, though one held by certain fringe religious sects. Shax was a thief, well…because that's what he was. Verin was one more out of habit. Corny wasn't a thief but he shrugged at the necessity of letting demons be demons and added that they could've made a living in more horrible ways.
Ness stopped to peruse a shop window full of pastries. Wonderful things. Pastries. He stepped inside to buy several of the delicate miniature fruit-filled danishes and two chocolate-iced confections he didn't have a name for and considered the question while he devoured them. Shax never stole food. It was an interesting distinction that Ness couldn't quite puzzle out. Shax also tended to steal from wealthy humans or ones who had annoyed him, though he wasn't above taking something from a shop when he wanted an item. He always paid for items he had specifically ordered or ones specially made for him.
The flexible morality of thievery was quite baffling.
Perhaps if I tried it, though? Things might become clearer? Shax's love of certain foods had certainly become clearer when Ness had tried them. Sexual desire had as well. Maybe theft worked in similar ways.
The last delicious pastry had met its inevitable end just as Ness reached the end of the resort's shopping park and wandered into one of several entertainment clusters. This one was more young-person oriented than the one he'd visited with Shax the previous evening. Fewer gyrating, glittering dancers. More holo-adventures and games.
A few parents shrank away from him and pulled their children close. It hurt Ness a bit to see but he supposed he understood their reaction to a gray-winged angel stalking through their midst, and he probably should've worn something other than black leather. For the most part, though, the other guests ignored him, too intent on their own amusements.
He stopped where a small crowd had gathered, curious what held their attention, and peered over shoulders to see. The crowd surrounded a small track with a sign in the center that announced Wublit Racing. Wublits, apparently, were fuzzy spherical creatures on which the only indication of top or bottom was the several dozen tiny feet on one side. Whether they came in a riot of bright colors naturally or had been dyed, Ness couldn't be certain.
The dozen wublits, each in its own padded lane, apparently knew there would be treats at the end of the course. When their holding gate dropped, they raced like mad for the finish, careening off lane walls, falling over and rolling only to scramble back up and scurry on, all to the shrieking delight of the human onlookers. A neon yellow one appeared to be the crowd favorite, though the flame red one had fans, too. During the first race Ness watched, the yellow beat the red one to the treat trough by a skitter-roll.
"Do the children, er, gamble on the outcomes?" Ness asked a well-dressed man to his right.
"It's all in good fun, Mr. Angel." The man looked him up and down with a disapproving nose wrinkle. "Don't go all holy roller."
"As if I had any right to," Ness said softly as the next race started.
The man had three children with him, though he seemed more invested in his own betting than how the kids were doing. He also wore a gold and presumably diamond bracelet so heavy that it clunked every time it hit his wristcomm.
Shax would steal from this sort of person. He displays the bracelet to let people know how wealthy he is. It's not as if he needs it.
Ness waited until the man's focus returned to the race. Cerulean wublit was unexpectedly in the lead. The crowd surge forward to see, packed in tight. The man had his left hand on one of his kids' shoulders. Gently, Ness unhooked the clasped, caught the bracelet as it fell, and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. The man was too caught up in the scramble of wublits to notice.
Initially pleased with himself, Ness began to walk away. The bracelet seemed to weigh heavier with each step he took. He turned back in time to see the man herding his children away from the wublit course, one of them obviously elated, the man himself disgruntled and annoyed. Yes, he'd been annoying and condescending, making assumptions about Ness on appearance alone.
But the weight of jewelry in Ness's pocket was reaching critical mass and no matter how he justified it, he was taking something that did not belong to him. He spun about and hurried after the little family group.
"Excuse me, sir?" Ness held the bracelet out to him. "You dropped this."
"Oh. Um. Thanks." Red-faced, the man took the bracelet and hustled his small brood away, perhaps chagrined over being rude to Ness. One could hope.
Not quite depressed but no longer in the holiday spirit, Ness made his way back to the room he was sharing with Shax. Lovely room with a huge bed and a view of the seaside—their own private sanctuary. Even better, Shax was there, sorting through some of his shirts.
"Hello there, gorgeous." Shax greeted him with a bright smile. "What've you been up to?"
Ness crossed the room to gather Shax into his arms. He needed to hold his demon, needed his heat, his strength, his cheerful amorality as he told the story of the wublits and the bracelet. Shax stroked his back and kissed him softly when he was done.
"Ah, well. Worth a try, I suppose." Shax leaned back to look up at him. "Don't feel bad, cupcake. It's not for everyone."
"You're not disappointed?"
Shax let out a huff. "Of course not. I can manage enough thievery for both of us and you have other talents of which I'm mightily glad. It's a perfect arrangement."
"Perfect." Ness pulled him close with a soft sigh and kissed his hair. Morality could go…bugger itself. He'd found where he was accepted for what he was, as he was. Really wasn't any more complicated than that.
About The Brimstone Journals
Extra treats for our Brimstone readers, Brimstone Journals will post every Tuesday. Short scenes from characters' lives before, after or during the stories.
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