In His Name

Chapter 45 - To be weak with

I move across the room, fingers gently tucking back a stray curl escaped from Rosco's bun. Even in sleep his features are distorted with ache. I absently wonder how Tansy can sleep so deeply knowing how he feels, but I suppose closeness is the wildflowers favorite form of comfort. I can't help the twinge of jealously I feel, seeing them snuggled into his hands in a way I will never be able to.

"Why does he insist he's fine, when he is so clearly heartbroken?" I ask the god quietly. Rosco's beautiful soul is crying out in pain, and since it is clear to me, I know his god must be suffering it also. What does Rosco hope to gain by selling such an obvious falsehood? Is the young man really so unaware of his transparency?

"It is the only lie I ever hear him tell." The brooding god answers. The lord of death is always cold and distant, but now he is plainly pouting. It is likely his foul mood that keeps the storm raging around us. Storm spirits are attracted to suffering and the god's must be calling to them like a beacon. I don't think he's currently angry with me anymore, but from the ways his eyes lock on Rosco and then avoid him, I would guess the morose attitude has everything to do with Rosco.

"He is too gentle for the turbulence of our world. Being close to us will hurt him again. If it troubles you so greatly to see him wounded, would he not be better off with the humans?"

"No." Death answers firmly, "He's mine and I want him. I will not let him go as long as he wishes to be with me." His eyes lifting to the sleeping bundle, "But do not belittle his gentleness, it is not his weakness but his greatest strength." Piercing gaze turning on me, "I have seen many made of stone, crumble under pressure, but while Rosco is easy to bend, he does not break."

I chuckle nervously, shivering under his attention, "Forgive me, it was not meant as a judgement, merely an observation." Looking back at the human whom even Death feels the need to praise. "He must have found great favor with you; I do not normally hear you being so selfish with someone."

He sighs deeply, pinching his nose, "something about him makes me feel very possessive." He admits, eyes narrowing on me, "speaking of which, why are you still here?"

"I'm worried about him?"

"You're oddly invested in him."

"I love him."

The air turns frigid, "You're trying my patience Manadora."

I smile, tugging the blanket tighter around Rosco's shoulders, "Don't worry, even if I told him outright it wouldn't matter. His love is not for me."

The god is quiet a moment before speaking, "What makes you say that?"

"All of my advances went completely unnoticed," I sigh softly, "I am fairly sure his interests lay elsewhere." In all my time there have been very few mortals who captured my affections, very few who I would choose to spend my time with, but none of them ever seem to be able to choose me in return, and it seems Rosco is no exception.

Death's eyes drift to the ground at his feet and I suppress a shiver. It is truly unnerving to see a god so uncertain.

I swallow, knowing my next words may cause upset, but for Rosco's sake I will say them, "You do know he would be safer, if he had the role of a priest. The oath would protect him from-"

"He already asked." Death injects darkly, from his tone and the way his eyes swirl with blackness I feel it is safe to assume it was not a conversation that ended well.

"Oh."

"I shouted at him." The god groans miserably, burying his head in his hands and sliding to the floor, "And then he looked at me like a kicked puppy." Sighing heavily, "if you think his soul sounds tormented now, you should have heard it then. This is the first time I have ever felt envy for mortality. Eternity will be very long with the memory of that expression carved into my existence." Glaring at the floors as though they personally offended him, "And then those horrible people wanted to steal him from me, offering him everything he wants and then yanking it out from underneath him. He was so happy they wanted him to stay there. I hate that they hurt him, but I honestly don't know what I would have done if he'd chose to stay with them. One human life is already so short in the grand scheme of things, how could I content myself with only having him for weeks when I desire him for an eternity?"

The intensity of the god's emotion causes tremors I silently work to still, "I don't understand?" I confess, "if you want him so badly and he is not only willing but asked to join your service, why do you not just claim him? I know your last priest did not turn out to be all you thought, but Rosco isn't like that man, he is simply not capable of that much wickedness."

"No." The god says firmly, "It is not even because I don't want a new priest, it is because of Rosco the idea seems possible to me again, not now, but some day, though it cannot be him. The moment he said it, I found the idea repulsive, to see him as an instrument of my will, to look down on him as a servant, for him to look up me as a master." Shuttering at the thought, "That is not what I want from him."

I let my confusion speak, "What do you want from him?"

"I don't know," He groans again, "I haven't figured it out yet. Mother said he was a gift, but sometimes he feels more like a puzzle designed to frustrate me." Sighing in defeat, "but whatever it is, I want it more than I have ever wanted anything."

We fall back into silence. Lord death has never spoken so openly with me. Never allowed himself to appear anything but immutable. And he must be. He is one of our gods, our foundation. Witnessing even this small moment of vulnerability has left me feeling shaken. If he is weak, everything falls, so he only shows us his strength.

Before Life and Death had us, they had their mother, and when she passed beyond the confines of our universe, they relied upon each other. Two halves of a whole, vastly different, but always in perfect sync. I think of my own family, my love for them, how I would feel should I find myself alone, expected not only to carry my own burdens but juggle all of them, unaided. Maybe that's what it is he wants from Rosco. Someone who does not need him to be strong all the time, someone to be weak with. My eyes wander over the young man sleeping with all his cares on his face. Death seems to think he is capable of great things, but I cannot help but worry the god is expecting too much from him, he seems so fragile, so small.

"Lord Death?" I ask tentatively, "Do you know where Life is?"

"I wish I did." He answers, leaning his head back against the wall, "Despite what you mountains might think, I really did not come here for you. Rosco and I are looking for life. We came to visit her temple." Eyes flicking over to mine, "When was the last time you saw her? Did she say anything that might tell us where she is? Was she acting strangely at all?"

"No," shaking my head, "I'm sorry but the last time I personally saw her, the two of you were together. I do know she spent a lot of time alone in her palace after you left, but then, nothing. It's like she went out one day and just never came home. A few spirits thought she must have gone to be with you, but her essence is still here." Frowning, "I don't understand why she would abandon us. We were not happy you left but we could understand why," Letting myself sink to the floor hugging my knees, "I just wish things could go back the way they were before. So many of us hungered for more power but look what we've done with it. Our worlds are a mess, our gods are gone, our humans are suffering. Before we were weaker, but the balance was healthy. Why is it we only see the beauty in the things we have lost?"

A soothing hand settled on my head, and I looked up to find Death at my side. His air of insecurity has vanished. He is calm and sure again. A pillar and foundation of my existence. My breath stutters as my fears dissolve. We are no longer abandoned. Death has returned for us, and if he is back, Life will follow, one cannot exist without the other. His eyes meet mine; they hold no doubts or uncertainties, he is confident, and distant. Death is being strong again, for my sake.

"Do not dwell on what was, Manadora." His tone kind, but absolute, "All your tomorrows will be miserable if you expect them to be yesterdays."