Berries and Greed

I laughed, which drew the attention of the young demiurgus sitting at the next table over. I gave her a bland smile when she glanced over at me, then typed out a reply to Greid.

I have to go back to work in a minute so I won’t keep distracting you. See you at one?

He replied with, Yep, see you at one. A second later, he sent a photo of him flipping off the headpiece on his workbench. I smiled, peering closer at it. I’d seen it before, taking a peek while he was working, and it was stunning. Silvery-black metal that would form something almost like a cage over the lower jaw, coming to a sharp point under the chin, with curling strands of metal topped with tiny jewels that would frame the face like baby hairs. It came to another sharp point in the centre of the hairline, with a big blood-red jewel dangling from a delicate chain to rest on the forehead.

I’d asked Greid if the client would be able to eat and drink—or even talk—in it, and he’d just shrugged and said it was what she wanted.

I quickly fired off, It looks amazing! before draining the last of my coffee and gathering up my trash to throw out. When I got back into Abyss, the evening rush had begun—people anticipating the weekend and starting to unwind after a long week at work. After using the bathroom, I tied my apron back on and joined Gavin, Ron and Yavi, another demiurgus, behind the bar.

The two demiurgus were in a deep discussion about the dropball match that had aired on TV last night. Dropball was a demiurgus sport that was held in an underground chamber and had something to do with hanging from stalactites while passing a ball, but that was the extent of my knowledge. Greid had told me his sister Daga was obsessed with it and went to all the games held in the underground stadium just outside the city.

Ron gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder when I passed them, making my way to the lone demiurgus woman who was just sliding gracefully onto a stool at the end of the bar.

“Evening,” I said cheerfully when I reached her. “What can I get—Oh my god.”

She raised a finely shaped brow, burgundy painted lips tilting into a tiny, knowing smile. Her white-streaked hair was swept back into an elegant chignon, just like it always was on TV.

“You’re Parin var Gelligar,” I got out, voice trembling with excitement. “Oh my god, I love you on Our Neighbours the Humans.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you, dear.”

“My friend loves you,” I gushed. “He loves that other show you were in as well, the crime-fighting one? He had such a crush on you. He still does.”

She let out a delicate yet throaty laugh—just like on the show. God, Greid would be silently losing his shit if he were here right now.

Should I text him? I didn’t think he’d actually know what to do if he met Parin var Gelligar in person. He’d probably panic then forever agonise over how he acted in front of her.

Plus, he was super busy with work. I silently agonised over what to do, shifting from foot to foot. When I realised Parin was watching me expectantly, my cheeks flamed pink. “I’m so sorry, what can I get you?”

“A glass of the souterraine, please.” She rifled through the elegant purse on her lap and pulled out her phone. “So you’re fans of the show? You and your friend?”

“Huge fans,” I gushed, hurriedly grabbing a glass and making sure it was spotless before setting it down on a napkin in front of her. “We’ve just binged the whole thing and are waiting for the new season to come out on DemiTV.”

She chuckled as I grabbed the nightberry wine bottle from the shelf. “That’s why I’m in the city. They trot us out for promo and make sure we visit several of the cities with high demiurgus populations. I’m doing an interview for a local station tomorrow.”

“Oh wow.” I couldn’t imagine having to go on TV and not make a complete fool out of myself. It had been bad enough when one of the high priest’s entourage had insisted on taking photos of us working the vineyards for the Orderly Winemakers’ website. “Is it scary?”

“Oh, not when you’ve been doing it for as long as I have.” Parin waved an elegant hand as I carefully poured her glass of wine. “I’m an old hand at this. Nothing fazes me anymore.”

“I bet you’re sick of fans gushing over you wherever you go,” I said ruefully. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, dear, it’s wonderful meeting the fans,” she drawled, picking up her glass by the stem and swirling the dark wine within.

After grabbing the card machine, I hurried back over. “So are you staying around here while you’re in the city?”

“No, just meeting an old friend who lives in this area for a drink.” She held her phone to the machine until it beeped. “Well,” she added conspiratorially, leaning forward as her yellow eyes gleamed. “An old flame, actually.”

“Really?” I breathed. God, her real life was like a soap opera. “Are you… rekindling your romance?”