The Creator's Past | AnotherWorld: Original

Chapter 57 - Communication is the Key

"It's a part of you, isn't it?" She looked at him. "You at least need to know your origins. Something like this, doesn't happen in our kind."

"Like what?" 

"Half-immortality, dear."

"Oh... right." Mocha's hand rubbed his neck as he didn't know what to make of it. Ever since Mocha began traveling alone, Felicia had told him that people viewed him as if he were immortal. In addition to his helpful nature and willingness to assist others, people around thought that he was just another immortal on duty. However, that one day, he mistakenly entered a village that was hostile towards immortals, and his whole world turned upside down as a traveler. Well, it wasn't that bad due to Felicia's presence, adopting him to her home like a stray cat being taken care of by a good family. He was never the one who looked behind his past, let alone hold a grudge. What's done is done.

"Something wrong, dear?" Felicia called to him, seeing his sudden pause of pondering.

"What does it feel like to be a creator?" As he casually sat on the desk, he unexpectedly posed a question, surprising her in the quiet room. Hands behind, lacing on the desk as he tilted his head playfully waiting for an answer to feed his curiosity.

"Well..." Felicia watched his bold movements, a smirk forming on her pale lips. "It was fun." She shrugged.

"I want to know the struggles." Mocha's gaze shifted to her hand, those veiny hands that created thousands of objects for centuries. Mocha wondered if she had ever gotten sick of it, or had issues at certain times. A powerful being like her, who managed to create anything within the range of imagination in mind certainly has problems to face. She wasn't omniscient as a god. All of the creations she made, were driven by her knowledge and mastery of magic.

"Struggles, you say..." Felicia positioned herself, sitting straight on the chair as she rested her muscular arms on the side. "Sometimes... I do have problems in... not knowing what to create." Felicia began. As much as she hated to admit her weaknesses, she never wanted to disappoint the man.

"How so?" The werecat tilted his head. Ears tall.

"Well, it happens in battles. Sometimes my mind couldn't fathom what to create, since I have endless options available." She sighed. "That is why... I use my chains often because it's easier and simpler to create. And very effective as well."

Capture and Kill.

"No wonder your job is to provide. Easier to take request than requesting..." Mocha said as he used to wonder. Felicia only nodded at his remarks.

"It's like... when you are looking at a blank, white canvas. And you don't know what to paint. Looking at your book, not knowing what words to choose for your pen to write." She muttered, looking at the messy desk. All the scribbles, notes, and illustrations in front of her that didn't lead to anything, made her overwhelmed silently. "It's like... looking at your palm, not knowing what to create. I saw endless options that made me hard to choose."

"Hey..." Mocha called. On the desk lay his furry tail, covering the mess of papers that devastated Felicia's mind, so that she could finally turn her attention to him. "Take a break for a while." He spoke in a low, pleading tone.

"You seem nonchalant about your origins..." She scoffed playfully at the irony of how she was the one eager to solve the mystery of his true self. "And am I here worked up about you..."

"I didn't force you to overwork yourself." He sighed.  "You'll end up like... the healer."

As Mocha uttered his words, the creator's eyes narrowed and a deep frown creased her forehead. The silence that followed was almost deafening, save for the sound of Mocha's own heart beating in his chest. He knew he had overstepped his bounds, and silently cursed himself for his foolishness.

"No mentions of that disgraceful peasant in my mansion." She spat, looking away as she crossed her arms.

"I'm sorry." Mocha apologized, seeing her countenance fall as he broached the subject of her former friend, who had now become her bitterest foe. The air hung heavy with the memory of the rift that had formed between them, exacerbated by him being the motive for her after of revenge.

Mocha sat on the desk, legs tucked in, watching the creator in distress. The silence was suffocating. He longed to shatter it. He intended to speak but her voice arrested him. "Felic-"

"What do you like about me?" She asked, turning around as if she was calm. Washing away the horrendous thoughts, she didn't want to lose him either.

Feline ears resumed tall as he heard the creator's sudden question, a blush spread over his face. "Uhm... W-what?" He stutteredly asked.

"What makes you fall in love with an aggressive being like me?"