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The Garden was anything but sparse, lush vegetation wherever one looked. That’s the first thing Crawly noticed when they sprouted, for a lack of a better word, out of the ground. In a sense it was similar to Hell, in that everything was filled with something. Whereas hell, it was other demons, here, it was plants and–
They hissed and recoiled from the snout suddenly in their vision. The creature, no sense of self-preservation — had no reason to have it; nothing died in the Garden— looked curiously at Crawly, its wide yet pointed ears twitching and beady eyes reflecting sunlight. It held itself awkwardly, bending over with its stick-like legs sprawled open, looking ready to snap under itself. From this angle, they noticed the tiny stumps on its head, the white spots decorating its body, and the tiny puffy tail starting to wag.
Crawly hated the creature.
They hissed again, tried to get the point across — leave me alone — even going as far as preparing to strike– and they would’ve, had it not been for the other creature that approached.
No, not creature. This was a human. They were different from creatures, supposedly. At least, Crawly thought so. Something to do with intelligence, maybe, or was it that they stood on two legs? Whatever, didn’t matter. The point was– human. The being they were meant to ruin, in some way. Not sure how yet. But there it was, in all its glory.
The small creature hopped over to the human, and the human bent over to… touch its head, side to side, repeatedly, while speaking to it in a high voice. Crawly didn’t care to listen to what was being said. It was probably a bunch of nonsense anyway, since other animals didn’t understand human speech. They made to go. They weren’t ready yet. Couldn’t enact the plan without knowing the options, what was at stake, what the plan even was. They had to scour the area, do anything not to mess it up. This was their first shot at being on Earth and they weren’t too keen on ruining their chances of ever returning in the future.
But the Human acted before they could.
“Who are you?”
It was directed at them. That was clear with the way it spoke, no longer in the high and playful tone from before, but not full of the vitriol and disdain expected from Hell. And it wasn’t scared of Crawly either. Curiosity, just like the creature before it (and the angel turned demon before them).
And it was clear with the way it approached the demon while holding out a hand to stop the animal from following. This was between it and them.
They had to stall, find a way out.
Animals didn’t talk, but maybe this human didn’t know that?
“What?” they hissed.
The Human’s eyes widened and then squinted. “I knew you were different.”
Shit.
“Different? Different how?”
If they had to engage in conversation now, better know what they were up against. If it had figured them out.
“I don’t know. It’s strange. You feel like our protectors, a familiar air around you, but not. Like something’s missing.”
Ouch.
“Well,” they breathed out with as much outward anger as possible, “I am not your protectors.”
“I know. I would’ve seen you before, and you don’t look anything like them, you know? Our protectors look like us, but with wings, like birds, and they’re covered by something. Don’t know why.”
“I know how your protectors look. I can look like that too.”
“Hm, and why don’t you?” The question was genuine. Its tilted face showed no signs of aggression.
Honestly, Crawly didn’t know what they were doing. They had a perfect out and now it was blocked. In theory, they knew it was possible for them to transform into a more "human" shape (had seen it in their superiors), but in practice, they had never done it. For all they knew, it was only the most powerful who could transform at will.
“Easier this way,” they lied. But was it really a lie? It was easier that way. Meant they didn’t have to transform, and not transforming was definitely easier than doing so.
The Human didn’t ask more, but it was clear it still had many questions. Crawly knew the feeling.
“Easier to burrow underground,” they continued, unsure why. And once again, it was partially true. To return to Hell, they had to burrow their way down.
“Oh.” The Human looked around and sat on a rock nearby. “So? You never told me your name.”
Crawly hissed and posed to strike. A threat that it wasn’t scared of.
They didn’t think they could go through with it.
“My name isss not relevant.”
“Didn’t They name you?”
They reared back, feeling like they’d been slapped in the face. “What They named me no longer exists.”
The human hummed in consideration. “Does that mean you’re nameless?”
“... No.”
The human made space beside it on the rock and patted the empty space, beckoning them.
“What are you doing?”
“Making space for you,” it said simply, like that was all there was to say about it.
Crawly eyed the seat warily, but it’s not like the human could do anything to them. Without responding, they slithered behind the rock and climbed. There was not enough space for their entire body to fit, so they didn’t even try. Just enough so that the human felt humoured.
“Ssso,” they said. “Your name? You asked for mine, so what is it?”
The human smiled sadly and looked off into the distance, like in a trance.
In another situation, Crawly thought they could get lost in the sounds of the Garden. They didn’t notice it at first, but everything sounded everywhere, noises all around them. And their nose, so accustomed to the stench of Hell, took a while to adjust and notice all the scents around them. They could put a name to none of those things. How do you put something into words if you have no frame of reference, nothing to compare it to? This smelled and sounded like Eden, and there was nothing else they could add. But they liked it. It was… peaceful.
They forgot they asked a question until the human responded.
“I don’t… actually have a name, either.”
“I do have a name!” Crawly looked indignantly up at the human, their fangs bared.
“If you did, you would like to share it.” The human paused and played with its hands. “I know I would.”
Only then, the entire sentence hit Crawly. “Wait, you don’t? Have a name?”
The human swallowed. “No.” Its gaze drifted to its rounded belly, and cupped it in its hands. A gentle smile sprouted. “But soon I’ll be able to name someone else instead.”
Crawly stared at the stomach. “But you want a name. For yourself.”
It took a while to respond again. When it did, its voice was strained. “We can’t get everything we want.”
Her — its — gaze fell on the fruits of a tree, before exhaling through its nose.
With a sense of finality, she spoke: “Well, no matter. You probably have better things to do.”
“Probably.” But that was a lie. She — IT — just gave them the lead they needed. There was something there, a want, beyond just the name thing. “But I don’t see why we should just give up on what we want.”
She perked up. “What do you mean?”
“Sure, you may not have a name now, but there’s no reason you can’t give yourself one.”
She squirmed. Fear of disobedience, probably. But she was still curious. Just needed a little push.
“And even if giving yourself a name doesn’t feel right, well, that can’t be the only thing you want, right? There must be something else somewhere.”
“I…”
They grew in height and whispered into her ear. “What do you want, really?”
Her nerves spiked. Eyes wide, mouth opening and closing, and swallowing. Small sounds escaping her throat until… “There’s uh. There’s this tree with this fruit that we… that we aren’t meant to eat. Our Creator told us we could eat and enjoy all the wonders of the Garden, but if we were to even touch that one, we would die.”
Well, that’s news.
“Die? Wasn’t it that nothing dies here? No sense of self-preservation, these creatures.” They attempted to lighten the mood by grumbling. And they succeeded, gaining a light chuckle from the Human. “Including you! I thought that little whatsit was the height of no survival instincts, putting its snout right by the face of a large predator, and here you are, just as defenceless, talking to weird scary me nonstop.”
Her gaze was on them, smiling. “Do you mean the fawn?”
Crawly didn’t know, so they gave a vague sound in response.
“And about the second thing…” she continued, “you aren’t scary. Sure, you’re weird. You feel like our protectors, but different, and look like a serpent but can talk. But you aren’t scary.”
“See? No self-preservation whatsoever.”
“And what do you want?” She interrupted.
“What do I…?”
“Yes, you must want something, right? What is it?”
Crawly blanked. They could try to refuse, or say the first thing that came to mind, but no matter how hard they tried, nothing appeared.
They wanted something, but they didn’t know what that something was. It was a weird feeling, knowing there was something there, calling to them from afar, and unable to identify it.
For the first time, or what felt like it, Crawly answered her truthfully.
“I don’t know.”