Liar, Lover, Lunatic

2 - Well Met by Moonlight, Proud Tsukiyomi

Waking up dead is certainly not conducive to a night on the town. Especially when there is no town. Only clouds. 360 degrees of them, as far as I can see. No souls waiting in line. No Morningstar Bistro. No DWF in cubicles. But there are more stars in the sky than I've ever seen. And there, shining full and bright, is my old friend, the Moon.

I put Moon with a capital M because it isn't a satellite, a chunk of Earth blasted into space but held in place by its Earth Mother. And if it ever broke free, eventually all life on Earth would die. Probably. Our planet is a weird, adaptable place.

I call the Moon my friend because I used to be afraid of the night. When I told my mom, she explained how moonlight is really sunlight. I imagined moonlight as a knight in silver armor, protecting me from the night terrors. I read up about the Moon Gods and Goddesses across the world. The first time I said Tsukiyomi's name, my mouth tingled, tasting ginger and peppermint. As a teenager, I would lay down in the moonlight and imagine it was the Moon God embracing me.

Although I couldn't feel any breeze, I put my hands in my pants to keep warm. It was then that I found a piece of paper, neatly folded with a DWF logo – two wings spanning the left and right margins, and a gold sunburst in the top margin. Inside, written in perfect cursive was:

"Oisin – Something went wrong. Please try again. - Steviel"

It was something, and it was nothing. I'd watched as Steviel was dealt with, just for trying to tell me the truth. I realize my phrasing was more suited to the Mafia than the DWF, but I still believed it was appropriate. He'd been turned to angel dust right before my very eyes. They were protecting someone or protecting the entire DWF. Something Giovanni used to do, back when he worked for his family.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been wandering the cloudscape, but I was certain that it was two to three hours. It would explain why I was so exhausted. I sat, no long worried about whether I'd plummet to my death if I leaned back. I closed my eyes, and in my head heard Debussy's Claire de Lune.

Moonlight can be cold – the crisp, chilly sparkle on freshly fallen snow, the hard glint on icicles lining a rooftop; the frigid, mirror-bright surface of a frozen river, the stark razor cut of Everest against the blustery serrated edges of the Himalayas.

But it can be warm as well – the crystalline glint of a loved one's warm breath, taking shape in the night air; the shimmer of roses newly-painted in the sun's evening gown colors; the magical dancers on moonstruck waves, their silver feet tiptoeing across the water.

I feel Tsuki's imagined fingers playing across my hard-earned sixpack abs, his cool lips against my warm ones, his silk robes sliding against my...

I open my eyes and stare into eyes both familiar and foreign. Almond-shaped, liquid mercury, skin as white as rice paper with cheeks pink as just-formed cherry blossoms. I breathe in, deeply. If this is real, I'm happy as is.

"Hello, Oisin O'Malley. I wondered if I would ever meet you one day, and here you lie, all ready and willing to be taken. And take you I would, gladly. But you need assistance, and so I shall help you if I can. Then, perhaps, we will talk of how you might show your thanks."

I explained it all, from my last living memory to this current, dead one. He laughed. I was getting tired from having divine beings find my situation humorous, and unthinking, told Tsukiyomi so.

He gathered my hands in his. "The problem is simple. You aren't dead. Some novice Grim Reaper must have been overeager to reach their daily quota and took you before he checked. There's his mark: a big-eyed beaver and sickle. You're in a coma, in your Uncle Padraic's brownstone. Let's get you rehomed." His arms opened wide, as a moonbeam sped downward to the Earth. He jumped, and fearlessly I followed.