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[ Without thought, the Forsaken's hand reached, finding the leather of the assassin's glove. It was only a brush of fingertips in passing, reassuring if not comforting. The god could not say that he had made peace with his life. He held enough fury and grief for himself, though. Often, like now, it was buried beneath centuries of apathy built out of self-preservation that he did not lose his mind entirely. But when it surfaced, it felt as raw as they day he had been judged.

Strange that he did not remember the gods that sentenced him, but he could remember his own anguish as if it had only just happened. ]

Then you should continue to do that. [ For a god who had a predestined purpose, who had been trapped for so long without say, to follow his own path seemed greater than any treasure. ] May I ask what path that is?

[ Or whether it could even be followed, here in Sleep's domain. ]

[ Ironeye came to a stop, studying the god briefly. It was something he had kept only between himself and his guardian; to relay his answer to an outsider to their world was to try and sum up a lifetime with succinctness. His fingertips caught at the Forsaken's, a loose tangle of circumstance that somehow held. ]

I once belonged to a mercenary outfit. It was they who decided on my course of work. Their tasks, I fulfilled. The lives they coveted, I took. I could refuse, technically, yet... [ He rolled his armored shoulders in a shrug that suggested complications. ] What is the use of a falcon that will not hunt?

At the time, all I desired was to be free of them.

[ He gave the god a small bow, lifting the Forsaken's hand until it was within an inch of his lips. The glance of blue eyes through dark lashes. Something smoldered there, shaded and molten. ] Now, it seems, that alone is not enough.

[ Then he was straightening at the waist, loosing his hold. ]

...Does that satisfy?

[ The god halted as fingertips caught in his own. His gaze shifted between them, then lifted to eyes more vibrant than his own. Silent, he listened, lips parted. The chill breeze loosed stray wisps of white hair, brushing them against cheek and sweater.

Something hung in his chest, restlessly still; the heart that beat at Sleep's beckon, he supposed, now wretchedly human. His gaze flickered lower, the shape of lips behind an ever-present mask. And yet, bit by bit, he felt he was coming to know the man in a way cloth nor scale could not conceal.

The Forsaken's lips curved in a smile, placid but something apologetic hidden in the corners. ] Does it? [ He wondered aloud, the cadence of his voice rich with humor close to a tease. ]

I hope you take no offense at my prying, friend. [ His hand turned in the assassin's, slipping free to trail one fingertip along the other's jawline. His attention returned to the other's eyes, keen even as his voice remained soft. ]

I pray you find what might fulfill you.

[ The moment was fleeting; his hand returned to his side just as soon. ] At the least, you may breathe easier that you are free of them and free to hunt for yourself.

[ There was a flicker of surprise in Ironeye's gaze as he felt the Forsaken's touch along his jaw. Yet he did not move aside, save to lean slightly into it once he recognized the gesture. ]

...That is one thing. I always did enjoy the work.

[ When he'd seen his counterparts from other worlds, he could see it in their eyes, too, even cloaked as they were in the violet hues of the Night. They, too, sought the fierce joy of the hunt. He'd wondered, at the time, if his fellow Nightfarers recognized themselves in their own doppelgangers. What they thought when they saw their own selves, reflected.

When they resumed their walk, it was to lighter subject matter; it had not been the Ironeye's intention, after all, to bring up past grief. Particularly not on a clear day like this one. Yet the remembrance of that touch lingered.

The air changed, subtly, as they neared the waterfront. He spotted his first gull through a reflection in the window as he matched pace with the Forsaken -- blink and you'd miss it, a swift little thing with beady eyes that lit on a lamp post and assessed them with a loud cry. ]

[ Though he answered with nothing more than a smile, the Forsaken found his thoughts wandering as they walked, to the story the assassin had told him of the great, graceful creature that drifted in the sea. He imagined the lives his mercenary outfit coveted were mostly human, as humans were wont to do; beasts were not worth a mark - at least in Crownreach - lest they were a threat, or rare in some way.

Perhaps he would ask for more stories, another time.

The subject shifted, the god content mostly to listen or pass their trek in amenable silence. The ocean breeze from the east crept up on him, largely blocked by tall buildings until they gave way abruptly to a wooded area to the west, and harbor to the east.

The Forsaken's steps faltered. He came to a standstill, gaze not on the gull that had cried to them, but instead towards the direction of the wind. The scent of salt was surprisingly strong. ]

So this... is this what they call a sea breeze? [ He asked, voice small and distant, gaze unfocused on the land across the East River. ]

[ Ironeye smiled. ] Bracing, isn't it?

[ One might ask how he could even feel the breeze, covered as he was almost head to toe. But his senses had always been keen, and he never could forget the crisp touch of the sea air. He footsteps came to a stop at the Forsaken's side, where he looked out at the gray-green water. Across the river, remnants of a destroyed bridge, the far-off remains of the city that had once been. ]

...Shall we make our way to the water's edge? Though it's likely to be cooler there.

[ He would wait until the god was ready. He could wait, after all this time. ]

Edited 2025-10-30 00:50 (UTC)

Mm, [ he agreed, voice distant still. ] It smells of salt... [ And something else he couldn't put his finger on. Finally, with a small shake of his head, the Forsaken returned his attention to the other, more alert. He smiled, something lighter in the expression than usual. ]

Yes, let's.

[ While his slight frame made him perhaps more susceptible to the cold, and being cold at all was still new to the god, the month prior had been far colder. And though he had been both to the western and eastern edge of the island farther north, the smell of the ocean had not been so strong.

The sea gull taking off from its perch drew the Forsaken's attention. As they ventured closer to the waterfront, another gull circled above. ]

Are those the sea gulls you mentioned? [ He hadn't taken note of them before, and had seen few birds further inland - save a black bird with too many eyes, and a few birds of dun grey with moss in their feathers. ]

They are. Bold, inveterate opportunists. Clever, too. They'll follow boats and trail fishermen for scraps. I've never seen the sea without hearing their cries... save for in that dream.

[ He thought them rather handsome birds, though raucous. And here, there was no sand, but one could walk to the rail and peer over at the water lapping at the edges of the city's construction. Ironeye did so now, content to enjoy the sound for a little while. ]

...Forsaken, I've a confession to make.

[ Ah, the ocean that seemed more to be made of glass than water. Well, save for when he was drowning in it. He wasn't sure that counted as a sea, though admittedly he had thought of it the same.

The Forsaken decided he preferred this one, calm from the shore but alive, lapping at the piers and the shore. His gaze lifted once more to the gull overhead. ] I have only heard of them. [ Or if he had ever seen them, it had been a time he had long since forgotten.

His companion's words earned his attention once again, the god turning with lips parted in slight surprise. The smile returned, gentle. ] What might that be, my friend? I shall gladly hear it.

If we'd brought a snack or two, I'm sure we'd see far more. They've a knack for alerting each other.

[ Though it likely shouldn't have, it came as something as a surprise to the Ironeye that the Forsaken should not have seen a gull before. Perhaps it was because his own work had taken him to distant lands. Ever the traveler. Yet, for all his journeying...

He maintained a straight face for as long as he could, but ultimately, could not hide a smile. ]

...I cannot swim.

For all that I enjoy looking out to sea, I would sink like a stone.

Oh - [ He carried a little food and water with him by habit, along with medical supplies. It helped that his satchel could carry far more than it should. Given the size of the borough, and the existence of hosts (among other more mundane dangers like the broken glass he'd stepped on within days of arriving), it seemed pertinent to be prepared.

He waited to rummage in his pack to earnestly listen to his companion —

Only to burst into startled laughter, a perhaps surprisingly boyish sound, light and clear. ] You tease me, [ he complained, though there was hardly any real protest. ]

I imagine I cannot swim, either. I should not like to find out the hard way, either.

[ That aside, the water didn't look particularly safe. In the river, he was sure he had seen large shapes lurking beneath. ...To say nothing of the debris that had clogged the canal.

He opened the satchel, pulling out a cellophane packet of long-stale crackers. ] Do you imagine they would like these?

[ The god's laughter seemed to lighten the weight upon his own shoulders. It seemed he could not remember hearing any so honest for quite some time. ]

I do apologize[ , he said, not regretting in the least as he watched the god work. ] But at least we are in good company. I knew a pirate who couldn't swim, either. Strange, but it's true of many sailors.

[ He regarded the packet with some interest. ] I imagine they would like anything they could fit into their beaks. Only crumble them a little before you toss them, and we'll soon see how many gulls there are to find.

[ The wry glance across the Forsaken's shoulders seemed to suggest he believed Ironeye's apology as much as the man meant it, but the smile lingered. ]

It seems a dangerous trade for one who can't swim, [ he mused curiously.

Delicately he opened the packet (more than once he had spilled crumbs all over himself from crushed crackers or biscuits), then withdrew one cracker to crumble. Finding the gull that had perched nearby out of curiosity, he tossed the broken bits in its direction.

It flapped away with a screech, though wheeled back a moment later, landing at the edge of the trail. With no little amount of wonder, the Forsaken watched as the bird downed one piece, then another and another. ]

I think it's superstition. Learn to swim, and invite the disaster that makes it necessary.

[ Though he'd rarely taken time to humor the gulls before, now he watched with some fondness at the scene as the greedy thing stuffed as much as it could into its beak. Others began to circle, as if alerted by some form of avian telepathy. He suspected it was rather the first gull's loud cries, which it seemed it could not help making. ]

The fowl at the pond will be the same way. They --

[ A second gull swooped down, wingtip ruffling a few strands of the Forsaken's hair out of place. By reflex, he reached up with a gloved hand to tuck them back into place behind the god's ear, then paused, as if realizing how familiar the gesture was. ]

Oh! [ The Forsaken ducked as the gull swooped so close, then stilled entirely for the feeling of the other's gloved fingers in his hair. He shifted his gaze, not quite meeting the other man's eyes. A faint smile crossed his expression.

The gesture was perhaps familiar to most, perhaps even overly so - but for a god who had used it more often than he could count to comfort the Lost, it only seemed sweet to him, if unfamiliar. Ignis, too, had used similar touches for much the same reason the Forsaken once did by habit. Even still, he had not grown used to such attention when turned upon himself.

After a moment, he pulled a few more crackers out to offer to Ironeye. It felt awkward, somehow, as if a simple touch had thrown him off-balance. Why, he could not say.

Finally, the Forsaken appeared to find his words. ] I cannot imagine all birds are this accustom to humans, are they? [ He crumbled a few more crackers in his hand, and tossed them. ] Perhaps it is desperation. Who knows how long this city has been like this. Food must be just as difficult for them to find.

[ How intriguing, that reaction. He'd encountered it before, but somehow not expected it of a god. With all the Lost that the Forsaken had mentioned... had none reached out in this way? It seemed unlikely, yet...

He reached out with open palm to accept the offering. Perhaps he would keep this in mind, for later. ]

Birds that live in the city are the boldest of the bunch. They've adapted to the habits of humans. It would little serve them to remain timid, when we provide so much opportunity.

I've seen robins wait patiently for a gardener to till the earth, that they might better have an easy go of the earthworms he turns up.

[ Ironeye crumbled a cracker in his palm, then cast the crumbs onto the nearby water. Now more gulls had arrived, and they dived and landed in the water to better peck at the morsels. ]

Edited 2025-10-30 05:34 (UTC)

I see. [ Animals learning to live off humans and their kindness or their carelessness. It made sense; the vines and fungus that crawled over much of the city had not been present in the visions he had seen with the man from the banquet, and the only areas of true greenery he had noticed were Central Park and this southern park next to the water. Most of the city was a grid of steel, brick, concrete and glass - hardly hospitable to animals. But, much like the humans that survived the apocalypse that rent the human realm, life seemed to find its way regardless.

Curiously, the Forsaken watched as another gull dove to join its brethren in their feast, brazenly pecking only a few feet. Carefully, he crouched to observe. While the gull hopped a bit further away and eyed the god suspiciously, it soon resumed its meal. The Forsaken smiled, scattering another crumbled cracker in reward. ] You spoke truly - they really are bold.

Continue to feed them, and you'll only encourage them more, you know. Sooner or later, they might even eat out of your hand. [ As to whether he meant only the birds, well. Who could say? ]

[ As his supply of crackers dwindled, Ironeye found a resting spot against the railing beside him, seemingly content to watch the Forsaken feed his little coterie of seabirds. Yet in the drift of his thoughts: ]

These Lost that you mentioned before... you know them on sight? Whether they are Lost, or otherwise?

[ Would they be that bold...? Then again, one had flown close enough to tousle his hair immediately. Without thinking of it consciously, the Forsaken tucked his hair behind his ear, still watching the birds.

He didn't mind if they wanted to eat from his hand - in fact, his first impulse was to try it. His second thought was that if they trusted him, it would make for easier catching - although that was presuming they were edible.

Finished with the packet of crackers, the Forsaken turned his attention to his companion, rising to meet him. ]

Yes. Their names, the reason they came to me, where they were meant to go, whether that was back to their home, or on to somewhere new. I knew without their telling me.

— Though, I should say only the Lost were able to find their way to me in that place. Those who had once been Lost and therefore knew of me could not find me again through desire alone.

[ His gaze shifted past Ironeye to the waves crashing below the railing. ] There are those here I feel must be one of the Lost - or would be, were our realms the same, but the details I once knew are beyond my ken, now.

[ That was the tradeoff, he thought with no small amount of bitter humor: he could speak with someone whenever he wished, but he could not help those who, once, it was his purpose to aid. ]

What were they like? Did you have any that particularly stick in your memory?

[ Ironeye, too, had had a string of steady requests to attend to, after a fashion. Yet rarely did he meet his clients, at least before their needs had been seen to. He was much more likely to have personal dealings with his targets... and they, often, did not have much inclination to draw out those interactions.

He imagined the Forsaken's lost lambs were left with a better impression of him, at least for as long as they remembered him.

Presently, he watched as the shorebirds began to launch themselves back upward to roam for their supper, having sensed that their lucky find was now exhausted. They bickered, as they likely always would. ]

Most were the downtrodden, the forgotten, the wretched and abused. The people that no one else, even their own families, would spare a thought for save in disdain or ire.

[ The Forsaken wrapped his arms around himself as the chill ocean breeze tugged at the hem of his robes and his hair, pulling more strands loose from the long plait. Recalling the Lost as a whole only reminded him of the misery and selfishness of humans. He thought of the first Lost who wanted to stay with him.

Something jagged pierced the tether between them, twisting like a hooked blade in a wound - before the sensation abruptly disappeared as though it had never been there. The Forsaken's tone grew lighter, at odds with the reeling sensation he acted as though he had not felt. ]

The first were Rose and her infant boy, Basil. After the Godswar, even black loam fields of volcanic valleys became infertile, or frozen, or covered in magma flow.

Her village had fallen to famine in the span of a few seasons. She had set forth to find somewhere more well-off, but became lost in the changed landscape. I had been in my prison some years, I could not tell you how many. But I found I knew her, and her babe. I knew she was the last of her village. And, I knew how to part the weave between realms that I could send her to a new village, one that had lost people but still had good soil.

The gods had not yet been forgotten, then, so I imagine she remembered me. But it was not until after even her son's lifetime that I learned to be able to watch the world of humans from my prison, so I could not be sure.

[ Ironeye staggered slightly at the sudden pain, so much like the sensation of being run through that for a moment, he thought he must have surely let his guard down and been caught from behind. But no, there was no cold steel, nor spreading bloom of blood.

In the end, he did not cry out, but stood in place, hands gripped tightly at the rail to steady himself. And then it was gone. ]

...You saved their lives. A single mother and her infant, in the aftermath of a war. Few would have opened their doors with their own families hanging in the balance.

[ It had been between them, that jagged tear, in the connection that had become a constant and quiet companion. But what about the story of the mother and child would cause anguish? Hadn't they had a happy outcome? ]

It was my purpose, as all gods have - or had, I suppose - a purpose.

[ The Forsaken glanced to Ironeye, unaware of the pain he had shifted to his companion. His gaze slipped away once more, to the froth of the cresting waves. ]

I didn't realize it, at first. I thought I had discovered a way to free myself, but I could not pass through the same as they had, though I tried to follow.

There were more. Sometimes there were hours between, sometimes decades. Most often it was a few months. There were many mothers like Rose. It was not always famine that brought them to me.

[ Usually it wasn't. Not once the dust of the war settled, when the world recovered as much as it would recover, and the population had thinned to a sustainable balance. ]

A purpose...

There are people who live their lives dedicated to an ideal or role. But it is different for your gods? Something more intrinsic?

[ If he'd thought better of it, Ironeye would have steered the conversation away from potentially dangerous topics, now that he'd tasted what could result. Yet... he also wanted to know more about this god who had been left behind.

And pain, too, was a companion he'd walked with, far longer than the Murmur. ]

The gods of my world are... varied. I cannot say each has such singular purpose.

Yes. When our existence begins, it is not known what our purpose will be. [ The sweet brandy of the banquet had reminded him of that - of walking among humans who celebrated the birth of a new god, who tied blessings around his wrists with hope for the future. ]

At least, that is how it was for me. I was the youngest, and there were no more after me.

There was a shepherdess of death; a god of love - and their children, each the steward of love of different sorts; a god of war; the ocean; and the wind. I cannot remember all of them.

[ Even though, once, they had been his family. He had asked once, though no one remained to answer, what sort of family would turn on one another in such a way.

Eventually, through the Lost, he had come to learn many families did just that.

The Forsaken realized that he'd hunched in on himself, arms wrapped tighter around himself still, shoulders drawn high. He wasn't sure if it was the wind or the conversation, but, eager to speak of anything but himself, latched on to the mention of Ironeye's gods. ] What are the gods of your world like?

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excuse me sir stop undressing him with your mind 😰

not even a little?? as a treat?? 🥺

maybe a little... as a treat...

huhu ☺️

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