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[ 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?

[ He placed a hand on the Forsaken's shoulder for a moment, as if to assure him that his companion would take on the rest. ]

The Outer Gods are enigma and our understanding of them is rudimentary. Those that make contact with them claim divine epiphany. But how can one of this world fathom the will of something so vastly outside it? I doubt their thoughts, if they have them, would be recognizable as such to any of us.

The old god of the Golden Order lived as ruler. Her allies crushed underfoot all who dared stand in the way of her reign. With her Lords, she conceived her many demigod children and stepchildren. She chained even Death to ensure the radiance of gold, undying.

It is the collapse of her reign that shattered the world I lived in.

Edited 2025-10-31 16:47 (UTC)

[ In a furtive glance, the god's eyes lit on the other's hand, as though to ensure it was truly the touch of someone he trusted - or perhaps that the touch was there at all. The curve of his shoulders slackened slightly, though it was almost as if a controlled facsimile, rather than truly relaxing.

Still, he listened. The Outer Gods reminded him of the Earthen Mother, a goddess said to be responsible for the molding of the human and god realms from the formless clay they had been. The Forsaken had never seen her, but he imagined her gone with the rest of them. Vaguely he recalled that someone had told him the Earthen Mother was always present, all around them, but that had seemed unfathomable to him, too.

The Forsaken's brow furrowed. ]

Chaining Death- is that how the rules of your world came to be shattered? [ and how the Ironeye - and his shades - came to be alive even in death? ]

It was involved. Someone stole a piece of the Rune of Death from its confinement, and used it to fell Marika's favored child. Godwyn the Golden, First of the Dead. [ This title seemed to have some significance to Ironeye, though he did not immediately explain. The Forsaken hadn't asked about his kind in particular, after all. He lowered his hand from the Forsaken's shoulder to lean it again upon the railing. ]

Soon after, the Elden Ring, and the Order it represented, was broken. The demigods fell upon each other in a great war to claim its fragments as inheritance. And as the chaos continued, the conditions in the Lands Between grew worse.

...it is a long story. But suffice to say, disaster led to disaster. In my time, most of Marika's lineage are thought to be gone. The ones I have met have been... disagreeable.

[ Hello, yes? Marika? He'd like to make a complaint about Godrick and his bullshit whirlwind spam. In any case, though Ironeye's phrasing was more polite, his tone suggested that an altercation had broken out. Apparently, he had survived these encounters, and he did not seem to bear them any particular reverence. ]

[ Recognition dawned at the Ironeye continued. ]

...Our homes are more similar than I had realized.

[ Were there worlds where the pantheon of gods lived in relative harmony, as his once did? Or did they all fall to squabbling at the expense of their charges? ]

Still, the demigods have remained, in your realm? Among the humans? [ Or, among Those That Lived In Death, perhaps, as Ironeye had said previously. ]

They remain. Godwyn the Golden was once a great hero. And the demigods once ruled as lords, generals, and the like. But there's not much left to rule over now.

I've only met one who bothered speak to me. He accused me of looting.

[Ironeye's delivery was a dry one; he supposed the accusation had been true. Yet he had been looting for the greater good. ]

I see. [ The Forsaken's voice softened to something thoughtful. Ironeye did not sound particularly appreciative of the gods or their war. But that they remained meant humans had not forgotten them.

He could not help but wonder what it would be like if the gods of his own world had not left.

...No, it didn't bear thinking about. They had left, and thinking about it would change nothing. Besides, even the Forsaken now had left, hadn't he?

He pulled himself from his thoughts, voice lighter than he felt as he teased: ] You did tell me you have a knack for finding things.

[ The assassin bowed, adding a little flourish with his cloak as he played into the role. ]

And, as luck would have it, I had just found the most pristine regal scepter. Imbued with the power of the moon, it was, and a starry comet, besides...

[ There was a glint of mischief in his blue eyes, as if inviting his questioner to guess how much of his tale were true. ]

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