driftfleet | mingle a little Mor tonight

[Mattias stills and quiets. He obeys, though not without a frown that's mirrored in his gaze. Silence stretches a mile before he speaks again, voice softer than before.]

It seems odd. And I realize that's my heritage talking. By now, I know there are a fair few worlds in this vastness who believe in something... [He waves a hand around his head.] ... intangible. My own goddess, for a time, was nothing but a figment. And perhaps I'm inferring too much...

[A pause. Shifting uncomfortably, he glances towards the statue again.] ... But for all gods to be that way and then not even represented? It's unsettling. Lonely.

Very lonely.

[he says this very matter-of-factly, without hesitation. his eyes remain on Mattias even when the other is looking away. he hasn't forgotten the rest of their conversation, cycling back.]

Tell me more about Orphoros, and I'll tell you a story. Would you like to sit together?

[At the request, his jaw sets. His throat grows thick and his gaze hardens to something colder.]

I'm afraid I might be the wrong one to ask. [When he turns, it's brusque, coupled with a curt nod before he takes the lead, guiding them both to an unmanned pew. He waits until Robin sits before starting.] Orphoros is the god of the sun and all that live beneath it. He is the patron, creator and ruler of my hometown, Oramos. He slayed the great demon Pylonthes after a battle lasting sixteen days and seventeen nights. Then he came back to Oramos and banished the night. [He pauses there, shifting.] His sister. And then he exiled her followers to the surface that he blanched, hoping they would die.

[Another pause, another shift.] We are taught to believe that was a good thing. Just as we are meant to believe he is kind for sheltering us from his own curse. That he protects us by murdering so-called heretics for even speaking against him. [He scoffs. It's a struggle to keep his voice low with the venom sinking into his tone but he manages.] He rules our city with an iron fist and expects people to obey him, bow to him and die for him. And they do.

[The slightest smirk.] Most of them.

[Taking a deep breath, he sighs out most of his tension, sinking low in the pew and gesturing with a floppy hand.] Essentially, what I'm saying is that he's a dick.

[A beat. He bobs his head in reconsideration.] I probably shouldn't have said that in here. [Quickly, he mouths a quick, semi-sarcastic "sorry" to the temple.]

[he sits quickly, very interested. he likes hearing "the other side" talk about things just as much as he likes those who are positively passionate about the common truth. maybe more so.

he listens! he absorbs it all with a smile, attentive, carefully applying everything he learns to his understanding of Mattias' world. a sun and a moon at war--brother and sister. unquestioned rule, Mattias' own anger... it's all very interesting.

--until he gets to that last bit, and Robin laughs. it's a surprised laugh! too loud, echoing sharply through the temple, causing several people to glance over at them in confusion, frowning at the sudden noise. he quickly reigns it back in to a chuckle, bringing his gloved fingers to his face, trying to not make more of a scene than he already has.]

I'm sorry. [just loud enough for their onlookers to hear, voice lowering as he goes.] That was inappropriate of me...

Don't tell me I surprised you. [Mattias chuckles, watching Robin warmly.] I'm merely telling the truth.

[It's nice to hear him laugh. It's cleansing, his earlier attitude revived. To his relief, as well. He had already spent a fair amount of time being bitter.

With a grunt, he rights himself in his seat, finally casting a bored eye at all the onlookers still scowling in their direction. He grants them a genial wave before returning back to Robin with a roll of his eyes.] Anyway, I've said my share. And unless you have any questions, I fully expect my story now.

[He taps the seat of the pew lightly. Serve it up, son.]

It was just said so succinctly...

[he sighs, content, sinking down as well. he's about two steps away from trying to put his feet up on the seats in front of them.]

You're a delight, as always. Thank you for sharing.

[which means now it's his turn. he rests his head on the back of the pew, deciding where to start. he doesn't usually get to tell this story. when's the last time he bothered trying...?]

Legend has it that at the beginning of the universe, there were only the Gods, stretching infinitely through all existence. Stars grew from their splendor, worlds sprang from their their greatness, and on and on... [he waves his hand a little.] And so Gratia was created, and filled with humans... And people will argue back and forth for all time about why, for what purpose, to what ends, blah blah blah.

[he's already derailing. this is the boring part of the story anyway. he wants to move them ahead to the good part, that'll answer some of Mattias' burning questions.]

But it seems as though humans were given a chance to thrive. They were given the gift of choice. They could not comprehend the Gods, so the Gods picked nine of them to become special avatars and speak on their behalf. They shaped their bodies into new forms, opened their minds to the universe, opened their hearts to the heart of the world... And each of them was given dominion over a certain aspect of human existence. [he counts them off on his fingers:] Knowledge, invention, creativity, courage, comfort, suffering, perception, life and death, and spirit.

Trying to depict the Gods themselves has been traditionally prohibited, but the Nine Kings, as they were called, were frequently depicted in all manner of ways on their behalf. It was once not so strange to see statues like these all lined up in the temples in large cities... Sometimes represented as equals, sometimes only focused on one or two, depending on the beliefs of the region.

[but that is still not much of a story... so he pauses, glancing at Mattias, but there must be more.]

[It's not dissimilar to the story Tek told him. Gods that ruled with compassion and consideration. Gods that took measures to ensure their wards were protected. It weighs down his gut and stretches out his heart to think about, even if the rest of the concept is familiar. Relatable to Hosts and his own role, if markedly different. It adds comfort to the sickening drop. A consolation that perhaps their practices aren't so flawed as he had thought.]

That can't be all.

[He wants to know the geography. Wants to see the lay of the land. The patron Kings of each reason, their names and roles, their personalities. He wants to know if they could be met, spoken to, touched. Wants to know a number of things Robin just isn't telling him. Not yet.

He'll wait. The story's only just begun.]

It isn't, of course.

[he knows Robin... there will probably be room for questions at the end.]

The Nine Kings each ruled a territory, back when all of the continents were whole. They took up humans as their "children", sheltering those who came to them for help, tending to the balance of things. Gratia thrived, the people lived happily. It was supposed to be a beautiful time that the world has never seen since...

But the thing about humans is that they carry a corruption in their hearts. There is potential for love, strength, and kindness... But cruelty, also. Waste, jealousy. And the Nine Kings, for all their gifts, were made from humans, and not immune to those same poisons. One of them, the King of Souls, became greedy. He sought to have more children, more followers, than the others. He formed alliances. He worked at turning the other kings against each other. He believed so strongly that his way was right that he became blind to the words of his own people.

The Kings turned to war. His allies fought his enemies. The people of the world suffered terribly for it. Though most of the Kings had only good intentions in mind, it didn't matter--they were forever stained and flawed in the eyes of humans. In the end, it was their own subjects who rose up and killed them, ending a hundred-year war.

This eventually became known as the First End, as the world was never able to return to its formal splendor. Humans took control of their own world, for better or for worse.

[his tone turns a little... dry, as he withholds a myriad of his own opinions.]

It's around this time that the Priesthood starts showing up in the few historical records left from that era... Their policies and practices have shifted over the years, but their core has always been the same: a religious group who believes that the Nine Kings were flawed creations. That the Gods created them to test the integrity of humans, and that humans failed that test. They look to the Gods directly, at best using the Nine as warnings to future generations.

According to them, they banded together during a time of fear. There was a rumor that the Nine would return, reincarnated, and no one doubted that they would return both ruined and angry for what humans had done to them. The Priesthood gathered the new Kings up as they appeared, sent them to a special monastery to teach them humility and try to kindle their better natures. Things... Didn't work out very well.

[he tilts his head. this part is spoken almost without emotion:]

The Nine escaped. It's unclear as to why, but there was some infighting between them, and they killed each other at the top of the ruins of Saltus. They never reincarnated again. Something about the world itself was irreversibly damaged that day, pitching the world into a bad spell of droughts, sickness. Monsters appeared. It's referred to as the Second End, now.

[...he hums a note, sitting up a little. regaining some of his usual self.]

It's not a very happy note, but that's where the story of the Nine ends. Perception of them has been changing ever since then, sometimes for better, and sometimes for worse.

[The silence of the temple settles in on him then, a heavy anchor that drags at his limbs, makes it hard to move. So quickly the story changed, the tide of reality overcoming the string of myth. It both hits too close to home and reaches too far out for him to grasp. Two endings. Two destructions. Three rebirths, if you could call them that. A cycle.

He remembers words once said and suddenly they feel true. A deep sorrow settles in his lap and he can't shake it. Can still barely move. The weight of the story is still too heavy to resist.]

Robin, [his voice is weaker than he wishes, his fists tightly clenched in his lap] why did you you tell me this?

[A tragedy, out of nowhere. A tale with a sense of dread built from bricks of sorrow. For once, he wishes he hadn't heard it.]

Because I like you.

[those words come easily. immediately. light and effortless, compared to the weight of Mattias' own. he can feel how much it hurts him. he's a little sorry, but he didn't do it without more reason.]

And because I want you to understand that I carry a great sadness with me. I was born into a world of cruelty and unhappy endings. The Nine did not deserve their fates. Neither did humans. Our Gods have never answered for any of it, remaining silent and mysterious as always.

[he... takes a deep breath, letting a tension squeeze out of his lungs on the exhale. and then he puts an arm over Mattias' shoulders, leaning in with a little bit of a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.]

I've got a secret to tell you, one day. Maybe soon. Maybe far away. But this will be important when I decide it's time.

[He doesn't understand it, how Robin can smirk and speak with levity. A part of him finds strength in it, sees it as an amazing feat, while another becomes slightly unnerved. He chases the latter away with those three little words Robin said. I like you. It was enough.

He smiles, but it's thin and forced, wavering in its weakness.]

I... see. I'm flattered. [He thinks. At least it sounds like the right word to say. Falling silent again, he laces and re-laces his fingers together as he thinks, considering his words.] And, for... what it's worth, I'm sorry.

[this is the part he can't stand. he can feel himself ruining things. he wants to warn him of the misery he drags with him, and how angry he is, and about his true nature--but doing so will just upset Mattias. all he wants is this person to like him. part of him wants it to stop already.

he hopes he did the right thing, in telling him. he loses his bitterness. his smirk disappears.]

I'm sorry too. But I think you would have asked your way into knowing anyway...

[...he keeps his arm around his shoulders, settling in a little too close, maybe too friendly a gesture for all of this. he starts rolling his thumb against the fingers of his other hand, just some fidgeting to the common observer. what he's really doing is spooling up little bits of thread, little lines of pain from Mattias. one of his powers is being able to take some pain and hurt away from people... so picking a little bit off of his friend doesn't seem like a bad idea.

he might not notice any change, but it'll help him feel a little better.]

And it isn't all bad. I was actually fortunate enough to live somewhere with a healthy reverence for the Nine... They might have made mistakes, but they still strove to serve their children. They still embodied important ideals. Humans could learn a lot from them.

[and then, a very broad smile.]

Hey, Nightjar. When's your birthday?

[The woe eases under his embrace and Mattias attributes it to the comfort Robin seems to exude. He settles in his arms in relative peace and only slight concern, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It's warm, sitting like this. Time seems to slow. He likes having Robin this close.]

My birthday? [The question comes as a surprise. He thinks about the question, trying to remember. It's been too long since he thought about it.] The twelfth of Speiro, I think.

[With a cocked grin, he regards Robin with a queer look.] Why?

...Oh. [he returns the look with a bit of surprise, on his own.]

I don't know when that is. What season does that fall under?

[barely a beat, before he remembers a key point--] Does your world have seasons?

[He nods.]

Three. Aikaithe, Gannene, and Kleiton. [A pause. None... of those will help, will they?] Aikaithe is the harvest, Gannene is the planting and Kleiton is the growth. Speiro is the second month of Kleiton.

[oh... okay. all right. he pauses, for a moment.]

How many months to a season? I swear this is going somewhere.

This is possibly the strangest interrogation I've ever had. [But he's laughing, if quietly.]

Aikaithe and Gannene are both three months, Kleiton is the longest at six.

Ah, all right. [he nods. he thinks. he bites down in his lip, idly, doing the math... and then his face positively brightens.]

Riem! On my world, your birth would fall under Riem's king-sign...

[he... it's just a coincidence. one ninth of the population falls under that sign. it's nothing more than a horoscope, but... it's stupid how delighted he gets, thinking that the stars might have divined him to fall under his influence more than the others.]

[Oh, he gets it now. He cants his head, leaning a bit closer.]

Riem? Which one is that?

My second favorite. The King of Pain, they call him.

[which might seem alarming to an outsider, he understands--quickly following in with an explanation. he speaks so... kindly about it. gushing, a little.]

I know it sounds unflattering, but he's so much more than that. He lords over suffering and the release from it; both the cost and the reward. Pain can make a person strong. One person's pain can benefit the lives of thousands. He's... He is a reminder that one can't feel joy without first knowing what it is like to hurt.

Said to be a tall... [he looks up, imagining the statues he's seen depicting--ironically--himself.] ...pale figure, with blood-red eyes. Often depicted wearing white and silver.

[He watches Robin with muted adoration, trying to hold back a smile and only partially succeeding. Every word he says seeps in and causes a bubble of laughter that he has to hold back with pursed lips, nodding at all the necessary points instead.]

A pale figure in white and silver. [He tests the image on his tongue, lips twitching as he attempts to hold the laughter back. Alas, his efforts are fruitless. A giggle bubbles out, followed by a chuckle, and then a laugh, light and fluttering. His head tips back and one head moves to his forehead as the entire temple turns to look but he doesn't seem to mind as the laughter dies down, body sinking in the seat. Tilting his head, he speaks on the remnants of a chuckle.] Well, it fits. If anything, I was bred to suffer.

[It'd sound more dramatic if he didn't say it like a joke. Turning back to Robin, he smiles, all previous signs of tension gone.] And what king-sign are you?

[oh... dear. they're going to kick them out of the temple, at this rate. there's probably a three-strikes condition that they're running dangerously close to. but Robin doesn't care so much anymore; he came here for a place to hide, but he wouldn't mind being asked to leave if Mattias could leave with him.

he's glad. it's good that he's feeling better. it's... stupid of him, but he's right there, trying not to laugh himself. even when he says something like that, it makes him think they've got a little more in common ]

My very favorite, of course... Ha'it, the King of Life and Death. A beautiful woman with flowers in her golden hair...

[it's funny that he wasn't born under his own sign, but Finch's instead. but... it fits.]

Dominion over all the cycles of life. All starts and finishes, all beginnings and ends. Nothing lasts forever, but nothing truly disappears, either... [a happy little sigh.] She's associated with healing and the seasons, and the spirit of the world itself.

Nothing lasts forever, but nothing disappears. [He repeats it softly to himself, the smile from his laughter remaining but fading to something nostalgic.] I like that. Those you lost are always with you.

[His smile broadens as he shifts in his seat to better cross his legs.] I like the duality in your Kings. Nothing's truly bad and nothing's truly good. Though I still think I got shafted. The King of Life and Death sounds much more impressive than the King of Suffering.

[He chuckles, then frowns.] I do hope that's not sacrilegious.

[that makes him smile, ear to ear, but not for whatever reason Mattias might think...]

No, I agree with you. And it's only sacrilegious in some regions; you may yet make it through one of the big cities without someone hounding you about your brash words.

[He laughs. Quieter, this time.]

Some regions? Oh, good. That's a better score than back home.

[There's a pause and the smile wanes.] You know, I don't think you've ever told me about your cities. Don't tell me you're saving it for a later date.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject