Confused
After the ‘vow,’ Anubis freed himself from his weakness. His touch lingered on your back as his shield of strength returned to his front, blocking out anyone else who dared speak about the gentle exchange.
Disappointingly so, we do not have much time to stay relaxed. Your existence to the Ennead will soon become noticed.
The grass distorted past your vision. The air that you thought was once the clearest you ever breathed became better at the new height. It made your body gasp and puff, as if the pure air was suffocating you.
You, my treasure, must return, as awhole, to the land of the living.
You shake as he lifts you to the gradient sky, your hands holding onto his wrist and fingers. His body grew large and tall, your eyes watching in dull as the floor gets further and further.
“I thought you said I’m not dead?”
You aren't. Your soul has been split into two. One half continues to walk among the land of the living, doing things you’d usually do without asecond thought.
The world comes to a pause. The large hands that could now overtake mountains protecting you from the elements. You focus a second on the limbs before concentrating on his face. The gold eyes are ever so bright. They were like beacons. A lighthouse guiding your boat home.
That means this half, your true consciousness, has been asleep for quite some time.
“Like it was taking a break.”
Yes, my smart one... It starves for more rest but understands it's time to return.
You look up as a tear erupts from behind. A portal, opened up to show you- laying in bed with a book you've been meaning to start. It was marked with your thumb as you slept.
You could see the bandages of patched-up injuries peeking from the under of an orange sweater. When did you get that?... It was a nice tone of orange but you've never seen it before.
It will be confusing for some time. But, soon enough, every question will go answered.
You push yourself to your feet, a new urge building deep within your gut. A need. Your body needed to go back. It wanted, to go back.
Until then, stay safe, oh divine one.
Everything hit you at once.
The pain, the anger, the sadness— all of it. It left you in this tense arch of agony as your hands clawed and locked. Your cries wavering with slipping gasps for air.
The flashes of you cleaning up the blood, patching yourself up, a phone. Your home phone, you used it for some reason. You could see your lips moving. Third-person— you could see yourself. That doesn’t make sense. —A sudden bolt of pain bites through your brain, causing your body to wail as you roll to your side.
This was torture.
The tears— ones that you haven’t cried in such volume in months make you feel vulnerable; weak.
Shhh— safe. Okay. It’s okay.
A cold invades your body, traveling up your spine to your cheek. The view of black coming through your blurry vision, a spirit. It was comforting you, whispering words of endearment that you haven't heard in quite a while. This level of care and gentleness felt captivating with old memories.
After some passed time, the moment subsides. Your body easing with relaxing breaths as you lay on your back, grimacing at the feeling of fabric sticking to your slick skin. Yet, an old friend, the ceiling, welcomed you to stare at its popcorn surface for distraction. The ‘pattern’ leaving your mind to trail and try to count each kernel, big and small.
It’s therapeutic as much as it‘s stressful.
With a controlled breath, you sat up. The pain, now developed into a tolerable soreness, freed you from the chains. And your thumb stuck to keeping your place pushed into the book as the fingers grow firm beneath. For some reason, you didn't need to reopen it to look at the page as it was the top of your head.
“One hundred and twenty-seven out of two hundred pages.” Was your simple comment as you rose from the bed, the spirit lingering close behind to your approach of the bookshelf. A bookshelf you didn't have before but you– made. The half of you at least. While you don't like your safe space being messed with at all without your full consent, you shrugged it off. The book fitting snug among many more, some familiar, others not so much.
Good book.
You raise a brow as a finger goes past your peripheral, lazily tapping a spine. The sand-like material falling with the touch before disappearing at the floor. That was a bit new— not entirely crazy but new. You shake it off to remove the book of desire, —The Resurrectionist. Why are you surprised?
“I’ll read it today.” Placing the book back, you take in the rest of your room. The ‘bedroom’ area had stayed the same other than the bookshelf, and the fabric breaking off into the living/kitchen area. Your frogs were also still croaking about so you can't find the strength to complain. Especially because everything felt abnormally normal to you right now. Even the lingering spirit that's very very opaque; which is extremely different than the ones you're used to.