❝𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡
𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐝𝐞❞
↳ james camden was cursed with a fate equal to death. battered and bruised, with one foot already in the grave, she was nothing but persistent.
...but death was a...
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When James had first heard the name of Khonshu it had tumbled from Arthur Harrow's lips and it had sounded like a warning.
Back then she had barely known anything about the man and maybe she still didn't, but when he had talked about the Egyptian God of the moon James had recognised something akin to fear in his features.
It had surprised her. Because when he had talked about Ammit, the first monster she's ever learnt the name of, his eyes told a different story. They were full of admiration and respect, words beautifully strung together to praise her whenever he found an excuse for it. Which was at least once every few sentences.
In James' mind whoever Khonshu was must be worse than Ammit. More cruel, more venomous. At least that's what she had thought back then. Harrow had been able to muddle a lot of her thoughts, mend her opinions and beliefs like warm modelling clay. She's been so full of hope and trust back then. Until Harrow had broken it all.
Now, when James walked down the fifth-floor corridor of their building complex, approaching Steven Grant's door, she recalled everything Harrow had told her about Khonshu and what it had meant being his Avatar.
He is a manipulator, Harrow's voice echoed through her head. He tricks you into delivering his so-called justice by making you believe you're doing something honourable. Protecting the travellers of the night. In reality, his justice comes too late.
James doubted Khonshu was worse than Ammit in that aspect. At least he wasn't prejudging people — innocent people — who have yet to hurt another soul. Although James thought it probably didn't make much of a difference in how he treated his avatars.
A god who won't dirty his hands will fight hard to be respected. That's what her mother had told her when she was little, five or six, and still too young to grasp the concept of curses and gods. She hadn't understood a lot of things back then. Honestly, on most days James wasn't sure she understood anything now. If anything had changed at all or if she was still like the little girl that had clung to her mom's hands and begged her to wake up.
Her fist collided with the hardwood of Steven's door three times, the sound echoing through the abandoned hallway and James listened closely to any noises coming from inside his apartment. Any creek, any shuffling, any thumping. It was quiet, but that didn't have to mean much.
Right after James had seen Steven fleeing an Egyptian jackal wearing the suit representative of Khonshu's services she'd hurried to get the next cab back home. Of course, she couldn't be sure that his flat was his next destination after defeating Ammit's own servant, but she thought it was a good enough guess to make.
