Power cruised through my gaze, the old woman in front of flinching, her footing unsteady as she was waiting in front of my room.
"Is that it..." I couldn't understand what there was to learn from a mortal with half a foot in the grave already.
...or from mortals in general. How fleeting was life? The problem was when I usually closed my eyes and went for a nap, decades may pass in a flash.
So even if I wanted some rapport with their ilk, it was hardly possible. And let's not forget about our differing perspectives.
What's baffling for me is only alien to them. The same held true on the other side too. What they care about is a trifling matter to me.
Our perspectives differ too much to allow a meaningful rapport. "What have you thought about, eh?" Spice rolled his eyes, slapping the woman on her back.
"Don't be so stiff. It's just his everyday ugly mug. You see... there's never been sunshine in his life, therefore the corresponding expression."
"That's new. Why haven't I heard of this before?" "Because...," Spice had again this shit-eating grin on his face that almost automatically flipped my switch.
It was with great self-control that I repressed the urge to rip him a new one. "...you were always too strong for criticism.
Nobody dared talk negatively. But now? You're ridiculous still, but on an entirely new level..." My fist met his mouth, pummeling the immortal into the wall.
"One fine day you'll die due to this mouth of yours. Anyway...," My eyes wandered back to the old woman, still not convinced of her usefulness.
"...what am I supposed to do with her?" She squirmed, her face a mixture between a heavy frown, some evident fear and enframed in wrinkles.
"Grandmother of seventeen rascals, the good woman. Entombed two sons and one daughter herself, as well as two husbands and six dogs.
If anyone knows o what you so direly need, then it's her. But!" Spice liberated himself from that crack in the wall, reducing it to an even brittler state.
"You," his finger closed in on my chest, digging as deep as my scales allowed him to, "don't take this for granted. One kind gesture demands—"
"Another in return, such are the rules. Yet her remuneration depends on what I learn. If all I get delivered is hot air, you're sure to learn of my discomfort too."
She didn't react as much as I thought she would. The old grandmother with half a foot in her grave suffering from many sleepless nights as the Great Consciousness bespoke suddenly stared me in the eyes.
"What...?" I asked, obviously taken aback by the fire smouldering within. "You," she addressed me with such a raspy voice I had trouble making out each word, "are an imbecile."
And with that statement began a never-ending session of insults, of demeaning but of outbursts of righteous anger too.
Never in my bloodiest nightmares would I've ever dreamt this up. A mortal... dumping sermons after sermons upon my distinguished head, reducing whatever self-esteem to smidgens.
Most of the time, I stood there, mouth agape, hardly understanding anything of this foreign language she was talking in.
Only with time and untold repetitions did I infer some of her twisted thoughts. Worse of all, she demanded of me to regularly nod my head while her mouth was essentially rolling all over me.
My pride... my non-existent pride... it hurt! Apparently, I held the youth wrong. So much so it was, or so she instilled within me, a miracle she hadn't yet broken her neck.
For newborns of the Races, the neck muscles weren't developed properly... or so she asserted while almost twisting my ear off.
Second, their digestive tract was so useless whatever entered at one end and wasn't called milk would leave at the other almost undigested, ruining everyone's life.
Third, what they needed most was *care* and *presence*. How I didn't fulfil those needs already was as much beyond me as was the sermon following her close inspection of the critter.
If I didn't know better, her demeanour at the time truly suggested she was insta-casting dozens of spells geared towards inspection and foresight.
The old human didn't leave me much time trying to make sense of her conflicting statements while she was already harping on and about what other necessities were essential.
Tangible in nature, they might fill a castle or two. Surely, that wouldn't fit in any random house I'd seen in this city thus far. I'd bet even my last coin on that!
They included ointments for every little thing, rations lasting for months to come... Then there was a playground, a crib, waterproof clothes, a special bed built with security in mind.
Thin blankets of the best quality available else she wouldn't sleep well, painkiller herbs fro when she'd get to shedding her teeth...
Oh, that reminded me of one thing. When I asked her something by using that expression, only Spice and a pulse of mana hindered her from tearing my hair out.
Maybe she even wanted to dig further, seeing if there was something below it all that could assure her I was of sentient descent.
Once more, I understood close to nothing. What I did, however, was that the Great Consciousness interjecting for its useless own two cents made comprehension a catastrophic undertaking.
Throughout this whole discourse that sadly didn't seem to come to an end within a century, Spice was leaning on the closed door, amused by my unsightly struggle.
"Enough," I eventually throw in the towel, "you care for the youth these days. I'm out. Need some fresh air, no philosophical ammo."
"What for?!" It was interesting noting how preoccupied Spice seemed to get all of a sudden. "Greetings and some such. Plus...," I found myself smirking diabolically.
The turbid mirror in the corner spoke very clearly. "...it simply isn't within my nature to let any random Tom, Dick and Jerry shit on my head without consequences.
If that isn't enough of a reason to you, then recall that my time is extremely valuable and you're gathering mana at a snail's pace."
"You... are mad!" Spice said one thing, but at least his words weren't followed by action. "I abstain to comment... anyway," turning my attention to the grandmother still bursting with reprimands,
"for your... education." My hands slipped into nothingness, exiting the crack of my personal inventory space with a flute in my hands.
Masterly crafted, that one. Not exactly equivalent to my life she'd undoubtedly saved with her sermon, but it was one of the most potent things in my possession. For now.
"This helps in whatever crooked play you shall find yourself in. Use it with caution." "You. Are. MAD!!!" Unseeing Spice's charade, I was off. Payback called. Sweet, sweet payback!!!!
Sweater than ever as I now had the means to jump into the fray. That princess... I still had to think of ways to handle her. Very imaginative ways.