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Rika Reich felt sore. Puffy too. And she really didn't want to be working.
But here she was, driving her hover bike down Stark avenue over the Weaveway. The demon girl hugged a small packaged to her chest. She just left the immense, tall cube that was Ezekiel Square.
She'd spent the night before crying her eyes out. No, it wasn't because she was sad. Rika didn't cry when she was sad or feeling blue. No, Rika balled her eyes out whenever she got really, really angry.
"Yabai bastard," Rika muttered to herself.
She also drank way too much for a work night. If she had girlfriends, she would've gone out with them. But no, all her friends were friends with Arn too. And the last thing she wanted to do was talk with anyone about Arn.
Rika wasn't too bizarre for a Demon girl, although it had been something that always made her feel under-appreciated. Rika a long tail, but it was naked skin and looked like a rat's tail. Her ears were elfin, long and thin. Her left hand had six fingers. She considered herself lucky, however, considering the number of Demons she'd met that had extra heads, or patches of ooze that dripped from their skin.
Rika cut close to the sidewalk. Over one side one could see the wilds of the blue dome below the Weaveway. It was a twenty yard drop, though. Trees grew in bizarre patches. Above them all the sky wasn't blue or cloudy. It wasn't a sky. It was blue ocean water, held firmly above, locked in a massive series of forcefields and shields.
Rika didn't focus on that, instead she was trying not to cry. Because she still was angry at Arn for what he did. Arn had overstepped a line with her, and what was worse, he didn't bother to try to be apologetic about it. Instead, she was the one with the problem. Rika hated it when people insisted that they didn't need to apologize. They always said she was the one with the problem.
And then she'd be stuck, like she was that day, trying not to cry because of how angry she was.
Excerpt from my short story, Rika's Delivery Service. Click here if you want to read more.
Part of a series I've done inspired by the story. I love the setting, and I've written a lot about it on my blog. Its a story about a Demon Girl trying to make a delivery in a city on the bottom of the ocean. Psychic mutants that call themselves Demons and Angels. After centuries on the bottom of the ocean, with the surface of the Earth no longer habitable, the city has started to fall apart, and the factions in it feud for control.
But here she was, driving her hover bike down Stark avenue over the Weaveway. The demon girl hugged a small packaged to her chest. She just left the immense, tall cube that was Ezekiel Square.
She'd spent the night before crying her eyes out. No, it wasn't because she was sad. Rika didn't cry when she was sad or feeling blue. No, Rika balled her eyes out whenever she got really, really angry.
"Yabai bastard," Rika muttered to herself.
She also drank way too much for a work night. If she had girlfriends, she would've gone out with them. But no, all her friends were friends with Arn too. And the last thing she wanted to do was talk with anyone about Arn.
Rika wasn't too bizarre for a Demon girl, although it had been something that always made her feel under-appreciated. Rika a long tail, but it was naked skin and looked like a rat's tail. Her ears were elfin, long and thin. Her left hand had six fingers. She considered herself lucky, however, considering the number of Demons she'd met that had extra heads, or patches of ooze that dripped from their skin.
Rika cut close to the sidewalk. Over one side one could see the wilds of the blue dome below the Weaveway. It was a twenty yard drop, though. Trees grew in bizarre patches. Above them all the sky wasn't blue or cloudy. It wasn't a sky. It was blue ocean water, held firmly above, locked in a massive series of forcefields and shields.
Rika didn't focus on that, instead she was trying not to cry. Because she still was angry at Arn for what he did. Arn had overstepped a line with her, and what was worse, he didn't bother to try to be apologetic about it. Instead, she was the one with the problem. Rika hated it when people insisted that they didn't need to apologize. They always said she was the one with the problem.
And then she'd be stuck, like she was that day, trying not to cry because of how angry she was.
Excerpt from my short story, Rika's Delivery Service. Click here if you want to read more.
Part of a series I've done inspired by the story. I love the setting, and I've written a lot about it on my blog. Its a story about a Demon Girl trying to make a delivery in a city on the bottom of the ocean. Psychic mutants that call themselves Demons and Angels. After centuries on the bottom of the ocean, with the surface of the Earth no longer habitable, the city has started to fall apart, and the factions in it feud for control.
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