Connections
Rowdy left the scene rather quickly, in hopes of remaining unnoticed. He had grown rather accustomed to the strange way in which he moved, now that he was dead but also… Not. He drifted, in a way. He was solid, but weightless.
He found himself at Quella’s door without even really knowing how he had got there. Quella seemed to be expecting him, though, because she opened the door without him having to knock. Maybe she had foretold all this already, or maybe she had just sensed whatever had happened tonight.
“Long time no see, sweetheart. I hope you’ve missed me.” Rowdy hummed, entering her home with a soft smirk. The tall man seemed to fill the room with the eerie glow emitting from his translucent skin, as he carefully sat down at the table, where Quella had already prepared tea.
“Dearly, I hope the feeling is mutual.” Quella sighed, closing and locking her door behind Rowdy before joining him at the table. She was dressed in nightclothes, so it seemed this was not foretold, at the very least not precisely. “I suppose you are here because you are able to feel it as well?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s gonna be bad, isn’t it?” Rowdy said quietly, wrapping his hands around the hot cup of tea. He felt the warmth seep into his stiff fingers, allowed it to comfort him ever so slightly.
“Do you think so?” Quella tilted her head to the side, her blonde curls falling into her face. Rowdy reached across the table and brushed the hair aside, and Quella made a sour face. He laughed softly, before allowing her to continue. “From what I’ve seen, the path things are on is the best case scenario. It will be bittersweet, but it will not be… Too bad.”
“I can feel it, Quells. People are going to die, and they’re gonna stay dead. How is that not ‘too bad’? We’re gonna be mourning, when all is said and done.” Rowdy quirked a brow, genuinely confused as to how anything could be worse than losing those they loved.
“We are not losing all of which we could be, though, Blake. Most of us will survive this. Things could be far worse, trust me.” Quella sighed heavily, before taking a sip of her tea. Rowdy knew what she meant, he knew there were worse fates than death, too. He was proof of that much, at least. “I’ve seen each and every possible outcome, and this is the best of them.”
“I don’t wanna seem rude, but I’ve been wondering this for a while, Quells… What was it that made her choose you? Your goddess, I mean? Cause, like, for me, I was picked just because I seemed interesting. I know it has to be a better reason, for why you were chosen.” Rowdy hummed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, blinking slowly at his old friend. Quella did not seem put off by that question at all, either. She seemed a little surprised, but not hurt. She took another sip from her cup, before gently putting it down.
She took a deep breath, before she started at the beginning.
~
Quella used to have a twin sister, named Althea. They had been born in a rural village, on the outskirts of Messiao. It was considered a bad omen in their family, for twins to be born. Usually, one would absorb the other in the womb, but that was not the case for Quella and Althea. They had both survived, they had both entered this world.
Ever since day one, they both had clear opposing temperaments. Althea was fussy, quick to irritation and agitation, while Quella had a mild temper. That did not stop their parents from favoring Althea, of course.
The two girls were raised with the intention of one of them following in their mother’s footsteps, becoming the next head of the village. They belonged to a family of gifted healers, mages capable of shaping flesh and bone. Quella was especially gifted, as well as intelligent. Althea struggled to keep up, but the people favored her. She was set to inherit the title, not Quella.
Quella did not mind much, in all honesty. To her, that meant she could live a relaxed life, one where she did not have too many burdens weighing down on her shoulders. She was more than content with that.
However, it seemed she was not destined to live peacefully. Rather, Althea would not allow her to.
A man from the village asked their parents for Quella’s hand in marriage, and Althea was consumed alive with envy. She did not understand what any man would see in her sister, that they could not see in her. They were identical twins, they shared the same face. Why had that man asked for her sister, rather than her?
So, Althea accused her sister of dark magic. Of using her gift for evil, for manipulation and greed. This filled their parents with rage, and Quella was locked away. She did not see the sun for several years, as she was hidden in the cellar, as her sister inherited the family title and became the village head.
Althea had bided her time. She had waited patiently for their parents to pass away, to blame their demise on her witch of a sister. She claimed that Quella had once more used her gift for evil, and for the crime of using her powers for murder, the murder of her own parents, she would have to pay the price.
Quella was to be executed.
On their twenty second birthday, Althea dragged her twin sister into the center of the village. She had some of the men tie Quella up to a post. They doused Quella in oil, and Althea held a book of matches.
Quella had begged and pleaded, she had screamed and wept. Althea was unflinching as she lit the match, but Quella was not destined to burn.
The boy who had proposed to Quella all those years prior intervened, and a brawl ensued. Some of the other men in the village landed a blow that ended up being fatal, and Quella’s savior fell to the ground, unmoving. Quella stared at him, as the light had left his eyes, as they gazed back at her. She had always been kind, always been patient. He had never done any wrong, always followed his heart. However, it seemed it had not done either of them any good. Now, he was gone, and soon she would be, too.
Althea, in a fit of rage, took a blade to her sister’s face. She ruined one side of Quella’s face, taking out one of her eyes in the process. Quella allowed her to, as she felt her own mana coursing through her in a way it never had before. She looked at her sister, who was no longer a mirror image of herself. She did not understand what she had done for her own sister to shed her blood in such a way. She did not understand why she did not love her, as sisters were supposed to. She did not understand what she had done wrong.
Perhaps the answer was as simple as being born. Only one of them was supposed to make it out alive, that was how it always was. Only one.
Quella was losing a lot of blood, and one spark would set her ablaze, and she could do nothing to prevent it, tied up in such a way. Half blinded, beaten, and bloodied, she looked to the skies. The sun was rising, kissing along the horizon in soft and gentle hues. Quella took one slow, deep, measured breath, before she closed her eye, and allowed her accursed gift to do as it pleased.
She kept her eye closed as she heard the screams and sobs of the villagers, as she smelled their blood.
She had been good. She had endured. She had allowed them to do as they pleased, allowed Althea to claim everything for herself. All it had done is kill their parents, as well as the only person who had ever been kind to Quella.
Quella felt her mana seeping from her, felt it instinctively protecting her. She felt the air growing cold, as gradually the screaming stopped. She felt the sunlight hitting her skin, and then she opened her eye.
She was surrounded by gore, as her magic had torn each and every one of them apart, rendering them unrecognizable. All but one, that is.
Althea was laying at Quella’s feet, trying to heal herself. She had never been as talented as Quella, though.
Quella watched as her sister bled out despite her best efforts, and then she felt it. She felt her sister die, felt all of her mana seep out of her, and into Quella.
There could only be one. They had both known this.
Quella remained strung up for several days after that, surviving on rainwater, while those around her began to rot and decay. Eventually, she was able to escape the wet ropes binding her. She did not waste any time, before burying her village. She dug each of them a grave, ensured each one was properly marked. They had all been cruel to her, but she felt that they still deserved a final resting place. She did not cry, she did not mend her own wounds, she did not sleep or eat, until they were all buried properly.
When she finally did rest, she dreamt of a woman cloaked in crimson and gold. She spoke of how Quella was unflinching when faced with the fate she feared most, of how Quella had still accepted such a fate. She praised Quella for her kindness, for her bravery, for her patience. The woman cried for Quella, and apologized, telling her that the future would not be kind to her. Quella told the woman that it was alright, that the past and present were likely just as cruel. The woman asked Quella how she seemed to be so calm, how she had endured such a thing.
“I knew how things would end. We both did.” Quella had said, as tears fell down her cheeks. “We knew the end.”
The woman had offered Quella power, the power to always know the end. She had told Quella that she admired her, respected her. She saw potential in her. Quella had accepted. No one had ever said such things to the girl, she had never received such genuine praise before. She did not understand how her own understanding of her fate could make her worthy of power, not at the time, but she would not be ungrateful.
When she awoke, she wept. She mourned. She was beside herself, as the shock wore off. She stayed in the village for a week, after she had that dream, after she became a paidi. Then, she moved to the capital, and worked in the castle as a maid for many years, before the kalogria slaughter occurred and Quella moved to Messiao once more, opening her little shop with the money she had saved. She grew to understand why she had been chosen over the years, as she grew closer and closer to her goddess.
~
“So… It’s, like, the fact that you knew the future, and didn’t fight it? That’s why?” Rowdy asked, once Quella finished telling him her tale.
“Yes, as well as the fact that she saw the future, saw the role that I could play in it.” Quella nodded, getting up to brew them more tea.
“Awm, man, I wish my god saw as much potential in me as yours does in you, Quells. They literally made me a paidi out of boredom, for fuck’s sake. You’re really lucky, y’know that?” Rowdy groaned, dropping his head against the table. He sighed heavily, and Quella looked at him over her shoulder.
“You do not want the god of death to see potential in you. We both know how that ends, Blake. It is a truly, and utterly, tragic fate.”
~
Isaac and Nepthys were sat atop their bed, cleaned up and freshly bathed, after the events of the evening. Nepthys felt he owed Isaac an explanation. Nepthys reached over, taking one of Isaac’s monstrous hands in his own. Nepthys’ tan skin contrasted with the sickly pallor of Isaac’s, and Nepthys found himself staring at their joined hands. He didn’t even know where to begin, really.
“You do not have to tell me anything you do not wish to, Nepthys.” Isaac said softly, giving Nepthys’ hand a gentle squeeze. Nep felt his heart soar at how sweet and gentle Isaac was, and he felt his eyes burning with unshed tears. He squeezed Isaac’s hand back, slowly looking up at him.
“I know, I know…” Nepthys sighed softly, eyes trailing over each and every detail that made Isaac… Isaac. As if trying to commit his face to memory, to carve it into his brain. “I want to, though. I have to, but I also want to. I just… It’s hard to start. I don’t want to hurt you, and I know this will.”
“Whatever it may be, I can take it. It will be okay, Nepthys.” Isaac rasped, squeezing Nepthys’ hand once more. Nepthys could not help but recall how Isaac was when they first met, how he couldn’t handle even the slightest of touches. Yet, here he was now, squeezing Nepthys’ hand from the bed the two of them shared. He felt the burn of his eyes intensify, and his vision blur.
“I’m sorry, Isaac. I really am.” Nepthys choked out, before he decided to simply start at the beginning.
~
Nepthys was born the eldest of seven, in a family of kalogria. For generations, the Shual family tended to the temple of the god of death. Nepthys, being the eldest, was to inherit that task. From the day he was born, he was raised to do such a thing, to be the head kalogria. He did not get along well with his father, but he could not have been closer to his mother or siblings. He practically raised his brothers and sisters, between his duties to the temple, since their parents were so busy with the temple and other kalogria.
Nepthys had a special connection to their god, and frequently saw them in dreams. He heard their voice in the back of his head when meditating, at times. They never told him anything important, but, rather, asked him about his mortal life. They were curious about the mortal experiences, thoughts, and feelings. It was as if they had never actually paid attention to one before.
Nepthys answered each of their questions, always giving careful and patient responses. He was very attentive with his god, and his father was thrilled when Nepthys told him of their conversations. His father hoped their family would finally be given a paidi, after hundreds of years of serving the god of death.
As it turned out, his father was not wrong. It just did not end exactly how he hoped it would, not at all.
One night, a squadron of knights marched up the temple stairs. They did not announce themselves, they did not pay respect to the god who’s home they were barging into. They wasted no time in cutting down the Shual family and their fellow kalogria, not at first.
The kalogria all fought back to the best of their abilities, but they were no match against the knights. The men in armor, donned in the symbol of the king, cut down the men and able bodied first. The strong kalogria, those like Nepthys’ father. Then, they slaughtered the young and old while the women were restrained. Nepthys watched his family, his closest friends, were all cut down. He fought back as much as he could, until the ropes had cut into his wrists and ankles, until their fibers were painted crimson, and he continued struggling even then.
He continued to fight back, as the knights decided to enjoy themselves with the remaining kalogria. Nepthys was beaten black and blue, while the knights took turns having their way with him and the others. He fought, kicking and screaming, sobbing and growling, all the way until his throat was slit.
The knights left the temple, after painting it with the blood of the kalogria who dwelled within it, after disrespecting the god it belonged to, after committing enough sins to promise that what awaited them once they left this world would be truly unspeakable.
The god of death had watched it all. Curious, and irritated, they slipped into the world of the living. They had wandered amongst the corpses and gore, before they found the one they were seeking.
They woke Nepthys up from his eternal slumber, forcing his soul back inside of his body. They painted his scars gold, as a reminder. They had to further observe him, they had to see just how far he would go. They had more questions for him, and they did not give him a choice.
“You will continue to live for so long as the flames of rage burn within your heart. I will not allow you peace, not until you’ve found it yourself. Once you find happiness, once you accept what has transpired, or perhaps enact your vengeance, only then will I allow you death. While you continue to roam this plane of existence, I will lend you some of my power. Be grateful, mortal, that I am so fond of you.” The god had told Nepthys, upon waking him. Upon marking him. Upon cursing him.
Nepthys had, in fact, enacted his vengeance. Each and every knight that had been there that night, each and every one of them, met a gruesome death. Torn apart, with the pieces strung up with golden thread, while rumors of a violent wraith raged.
Nepthys had gotten revenge, but the rage had not been quelled. The man who ordered such a thing was still not only alive and breathing, but thriving.
Nepthys could not accept that.
So, he bided his time, looking for the right comrades, honing his own skills. Years and years and years passed, and he met Ren, and Kaiyo… And he met Isaac.
With each passing day, he felt that rage dying out. He felt that happiness, that peace, that acceptance, creeping in inch by inch. It had been so long, and, didn’t he deserve to be happy? The Antarte could handle taking out the king, couldn’t they? Did he truly have to continue being consumed by negative emotions and awful memories? Was that really all there could be to him?
He could feel it, slowly slipping over him, the happier and more content he grew. Death had been so sudden, so violent, the first time, he almost didn’t recognize it now. It was so gradual, so peaceful, this time around. It was still coming, he could still feel it, but it wasn’t nearly as ugly.
It was just as tragic, though.
~
Isaac was quiet, even after Nepthys told him of his past. He continued gently holding his hand, staring down at where they were touching. He was silent, processing exactly what he had just been told.
“I’m sorry.” Nepthys rasped, as a tear slowly slid down his cheek, landing on the back of Isaac’s hand. His voice was faint, heavy with all the emotions tearing him apart. Isaac gently wiped Nepthys’ tears away, cupping his cold face in one of his crooked and warm hands.
“I do not understand why you keep apologizing to me.” Isaac said softly, stroking Npethys’ cheek softly. “I am upset, but not with you. This world, the gods, are far too cruel. I simply wish the two of us could have a happy ending.” Isaac paused, his voice shaking slightly. He took a moment to compose himself once more, swallowing thickly. He had thought he lost Nepthys earlier, and now… Now he knew he truly was going to lose him, and it was coming soon. He had lived without Nepthys before, but he did not know if he could do it again. He had become a part of Isaac, where one ended and the other began was a mystery. They did not have to speak in order to communicate, to be understood. He had thought that it would be the two of them, from this point onwards.
“You can still have a happy ending.” Nepthys said simply, giving Isaac a small smile. Isaac felt bile rising in his throat, at that, and it must have shown on his face. Nepthys quickly looked away, biting his quivering lip.
“There is no happy ending that does not have you by my side. Do not say such a thing. Don’t… No. I can’t… If it’s not with you, there’s no point.” Isaac choked out, eyes ablaze with emotion he had never had the misfortune of experiencing. “I will just have to wait for you to come back to me, that is all. I do not know exactly what I am, but I will ensure I live long enough for us to reunite.”
“I’m not asking that of you. I can’t ask that of you.” Nepthys shook his head slightly, and Isaac’s hand fell from his face. Isaac could feel every cell in his body burning, every last atom aching. This could not be right. This just… Even for them, it was too cruel. Isaac thought he knew true pain before now, but he was wrong. Nothing has hurt more than this, nothing would ever hurt more than this.
“You do not have to. I will do it without you asking. I will wait for you.” Isaac felt his own eyes burning, his throat closing up. He tightened his hand on Nepthys’, silently willing him to look at him. It was Isaac’s turn to try and commit him to memory, to memorize each and every detail. “However long it takes. It doesn’t matter. We are one soul. I will not know peace until you are once more at my side, until you are able to stay at my side.”
“I won’t be able to, Isaac.” Nepthys’ voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and weak. He squeezed his eyes shut as more tears fell. “My soul is far too tainted, far too worn down, for me to be able to reincarnate. It’s been withering away, being worn down, all these years. I’m not dying, I’m disappearing.”
Isaac let out a choked sob, quickly covering his mouth with his free hand. Nepthys immediately turned towards him, before leaning in and pressing their foreheads together, eyes squeezed shut.
“But I’m okay with that. You have no idea how happy you and the others have made me, Isaac. These last few years have been so precious. In the past couple hundred that I’ve been alive, these last few are just as important as the ones from when I was alive. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, this loved. I’m okay with going away, after this. It’s worth it. It was worth it because of you, Isaac.” Nepthys rasped, a small laugh escaping him. “You’re so beautiful, and strong, and smart, and caring, kind, patient, ridiculous, creative, talented, wonderful… I could go on and on and on… You gave me so much hope, that the gods don’t really decide everything. It doesn’t matter how the gods feel about us, how the world feels about us. We really can pave our own path, we can find happiness, we can find a place to belong even when we feel so fucked up and alone. You made me feel so seen, so much stronger than I was, so completely understood. I don’t even know how to describe all the wonderful things you made me feel.” Nepthys’ eyes fluttered open, his eyelashes damp with tears, as he gazed into Isaac’s eyes. “I love you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t put it into words until now. I’ve loved you since the day we met. Even when I cease to exist, and my cells scatter, and I become stardust, or dirt, I’ll continue loving you even then. Even when I am nothing, my love for you will outlive the last of us. I love you. I love you.”
Isaac closed the gap, and he kissed Nepthys while he could. It was soft, and gentle, and quick, as there was more to be said.
“I love you, too.” Isaac whispered against Nepthys’ cold, chapped lips. “Even as dirt, I will continue loving you.” Isaac brushed his nose against Nepthys’ gently, taking a deep breath. There was no use in telling Nepthys that he would miss him, it was written all over his face, in how his hand grasped his so tightly, how soft and desperate his voice was. “You made me whole, Nepthys. You complete me, you keep me sane.”
“Goodness, I saw just how sane I keep you just earlier. Promise me you won’t lose yourself in my absence, Isaac. I’m not the only one who loves you, you can’t do that to our family.” Nepthys chuckled softly, brushing his nose against Isaac’s in turn.
“I promise to be as good as I can.” Isaac whispered, furrowing his brows. He still felt entirely too overwhelmed, but this was something that simply would not immediately sink in. He was simply trying to memorize all of it, to carve this moment into his brain forever.
“Good. Now, I have something very important to ask you.” Nepthys hummed, his lips ghosting against Isaac’s. “Will you go to the Mentiti Festival with me?”
“I would follow you in death if you asked me to.” Isaac said in response, before kissing him again, and again, and again.