Chapter Text
Altair and Covey lived an average life, they had average food, average living spaces, and average clothing. Overall it was just that, average. Everyone here lived the same, underground. The only thing they had to call their own was themselves, their personalities and looks, their voices, though even those were sometimes oppressed. They lived in a colony of sorts, beneath the land where it was safe from the terrors of the surface. Most of the older civilians barely remember what the surface was like anymore, and most of the children and younger adults, having been born down here, were taught to fear what's above. There's countless stories about the horrors of the surface, evil spirits, mutated creatures out for blood, and death. The people who questioned these ideas would get thoroughly scolded or even worse in extreme cases all for just asking questions about these stories, and unfortunately Covey was one of these people.
“What do the surface monsters do?” Covey asked his dad, Altair, looking up from his drawings. “Apparently, they kill you and eat your soul.” Altair glanced up from his book as he answered. “How do they eat your soul?” His dad sighed “They suck it out of you, then gobble it down.” “How?” There was a beat of silence. “Covey, please stop asking so many questions, okay? I can’t answer everything.” Covey grumbled, clearly upset his dad couldn’t answer him, but eventually turned back to his notebook. He’d been drawing countless things, including demons, strange creatures, and other gastly beings. Though, most of these drawings just ended up being rushed shapes in pen and marker, as he was only 6, according to his dad.
“Dad?” His dad hummed. “How old are you again?” Covey paused his drawing to look at his dad for an answer. “27.” “You’re old!!” Covey exclaimed, surprised at what his dad had answered with. His dad laughed at this, setting down his book to see what his son was drawing. He got up off the small couch they had and sat down next to him on the floor, leaning over to see his art. His sharp blue eyes widened a bit in surprise. “What’s that Covey?” Covey grinned. “It’s a demon!” He answered excitedly, referring to the large black shape on the page, which had two white circles for eyes and a gleaming smile. “Oh, of course, how couldn't I tell?” Altair smiled, ruffling his son's blond wavy hair as he stood up off the floor, and walked off to get ready for bed.
Covey looked over at the clock they had on the desk, which read 8:57. Seeing as it was nearly bedtime, he quickly closed his notebook and put it on top of the small dining table they had. He walked over to where they kept their clothes and pulled out some comfy night clothes from the compact dresser. He turned towards the bathroom, having to wait till his dad was done. He eventually got tired of waiting and decided to get dressed outside the bathroom before laying down in his own small bed in the corner of the equally small room. He heard his dad come out, the door to the bathroom clicking shut as he stepped out. He turned over, getting comfortable before closing his eyes and grabbing his blanket, pulling it up to his chest. “Good night!” He said happily. His dad chuckled a bit at his enthusiasm, before returning the good night with his own. Covey, being used to this lifestyle, quickly fell asleep.