Soy un ángel, él es un demonio y somos mejores amigos. Lo siento, pero acabas de insultar a mi amigo por última vez. -- Anon Guest
[AN: Translation from search engine: I am an angel, he is a demon and we are best friends. I'm sorry, but you just insulted my friend for the last time.]
Children have little experience with being prejudiced. They learn such from adults. And when one is beaten down because of a birth defect, there's little difference about the 'why's of it.
Ceagwil had been kicked out of hir home when the halo began to manifest. Ze met Amity in an alley, looking for shelter from the rain. The one crate was already full of devilborn, who hissed at hir out of instinct.
They shared half a mouldy breadroll and the crate. It was better than nothing. Both of them scrounged a living out of the alleys and byways of a city unconcerned with their welfare. They got very good at it. Amity made the best distraction whilst Ceagwil filled hir pockets literally behind the shopkeeper's backs.
They shared everything. Food, clothing, shelter, and the blame.
It was five in the afternoon. They were overdue for the daily bar fight. It was never them who started it. Technically. Amity could start a fight by walking into a room. Ze had that effect on people.
"Smoking's for outdoors, teuf," said the owner, regarding Amity's permanently smoking eyes. "Take your stew and fuck off."
"So you accuse me of stealing your marvellous wood trencher and iron spoon? You'll have to swap me for a bread bowl, kind sir." This, of course, was said without an ounce of sarcasm and a genuine intent to befriend. Amity never stopped trying to be friendly. "I will even pay the extra."
At which point. Ceagwil rose from hir chair and manifested hir aura of lightning. "You said a very unkind word about my best friend." Ze loomed at the owner.
Everyone knew that hallobloods could be just as much trouble as the devilborn. In fact, the former had access to a lot more in the way of problematic abilities.
"Fuckin' unnaturals," growled the owner. "I thought the halos and the horns had to fight. So fight."
"He did ask for it," said Amity, raising a fist. "Shall we?"
Ceagwil also raised a fist. "I think we shall."
Both fists, hallowed and profane, flew towards the owner. The evening was just beginning.
[Image by Dan Hadar on Unsplash]
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