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The sheen of light on the golden skin of the apple in Schlatt's hand was almost blinding compared to the dimly lit atmosphere of the room they stood in. It was warm, far too warm to be normal, but Tubbo was still somehow shivering.
"Schlatt, what…?" The boy whispers, pupils blown wide as he flicks his gaze back and forth between the proffered apple and the goat hybrid's face. Schlatt does not answer; Instead, he replies with a question of his own.
"You ever made a deal with a god before, Tubbo?"
Tubbo's breath hitches as he tries to figure just what the fuck is going on. "Have I ever made a deal with a… what?"
"A god," Schlatt drawls, retracting his hand to begin tossing the apple back and forth, flat pupils trained resolutely on Tubbo's face, "Is someone who looks and usually acts relatively human, but cannot die, and has a separate form of incomprehensible disembodied consciousness. Each one is representative of something. For example-"
Tubbo blinks. The apple is now a golden coin, the same shade as Schlatt's eyes and the apple skin, a bold S stamped onto the face.
"I'm the god of wealth. Among other things."
Hands twitching, Tubbo tries to fight off the urge to take a step back. Schlatt doesn't like it when he shows fear. "You're… You're a god."
"Tried and true, baby," Schlatt responds, teeth flashing in a predatory smile, and wow , Tubbo does not want to know what he means by that.
"So-" Tubbo swallows out of nerves, but his mouth is too dry to do much. "So what are you doing here? Aren't gods supposed to- to not interfere in mortal business or whatever?"
Schlatt's gaze on the top of his head burns, but Tubbo won't look up to make eye contact to stop it. He's a little too preoccupied with watching the gold coin slip between the man's fingers. (Is he even able to be called a man anymore?)
“That’s the thing, Tubbo,” Schlatt says, prompting Tubbo to finally glance back up and re-establish eye contact, “This isn’t mortal business. Never has been.”
“...What’s that mean?”
“Haven’t you ever wondered why Wilbur and Dream were so hellbent on taking each other down during that independence war when everything leading up to that point had been so calm and friendly?” The thump from Schlatt’s hooves felt far too loud against the empty wooden walls when he took a step towards Tubbo. Tubbo took two steps back in return.
“S… Surely you don’t mean to imply that Wilbur and Dream are- are gods , right, Schlatt?” There was a shake in Tubbo’s voice that he couldn’t get to go away. He gulped in a pitiful attempt to steady it. “Wilbur- Wilbur would’ve told us, at the very least, he was- He said-”
“Good ol’ Wilbur!” Schlatt barked back, cutting him off with another flash of gold; The apple was back, still being tossed around. “Loverboy’s always been one for lies, Tubbo, you gotta keep that in mind- If he thinks it’ll help him out in the long run, he’ll lie about it, believe me, I speak from experience ! You’ve heard about the floods, right? The ones that wiped out a good 99 percent of the population?”
Tubbo’s back thumped against the wall. Schlatt took that as his cue to begin a steady, looming approach, teeth bared in what could only be described as a feral grin. “Take a wild fucking guess as to who did that. C’mon. Guess .”
Barely able to hear himself over the roaring blood in his head, Tubbo put up his hands and squeaked out, “...Wilbur?”
“Bingo! We have a fuckin’ winner!” Schlatt jerked away, hooves tapping as he started pacing the length of the room. Storm clouds rumbled outside the building, nowhere near close enough for Tubbo to see more than the deep greys that blocked out the setting sun. “That- He-” Schlatt stumbled over his words for a moment, shining juice from the apple dripping down his fingers as his jagged nails punctured the skin in his rage, “Wilbur pulled that kind of shit and then had the audacity to say he didn’t fuckin’ remember it.
“I was there with him, y’know, when it all went down, and he- and he told me that he was the one doing it, he sat there and looked me dead in the eyes while it rose and told me that he was going to keep letting it rise- Then he comes around three hundred years later and tells me, ‘Ohh, I don’t remember anything from the floods, I wasn’t a god before that, I don’t remember you, Schlatt, ooh, look at me, I’m a fuckin’ prick who can’t ever own up to his own goddamn mistakes’-”
He rounds on Tubbo, then, and tosses the apple at him without warning. Tubbo fumbles to catch it, smearing juice on his hands, eyes jumping between it and Schlatt like they’d freeze up and fall out of his head if he didn’t. “Wh- What…”
He had questions. So, so many questions- But the words escaped him. He finally understood what it was like to be those rabbits he used to find in the desert, when he’d manage to tackle and grab one and feel its tiny little heart going a million miles an hour under the pad of his fingers. He’d imagine it’d feel something like this.
“Tubbo, this is- This is my roundabout way of getting to ask you something. You listening?”
Tubbo feels himself nod when the hair brushes against his tensed shoulders.
“If you had the option to become a god, would you take it?”
The breath leaves his lungs. The apple in his hands suddenly feels like its going to burn him, but he can’t put it down. “I… I don’t- I don’t know. That kind of a loaded question, I mean, I don’t- I don’t think I would, but- It might- If- I don’t-”
“Toss me the apple back.”
Tubbo doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s surprised Schlatt’s even able to catch it with how fast and hard he chucks it at him.
“Tubbo… Gods don’t come from nowhere. Those in the upper ranks, they’d want you to believe otherwise- That the purest and strongest gods simply appear, primed and ready to be whisked away to fulfill their duties as ethereal beings. I’m telling your right now that that’s a fuckin’ sham. Matter cannot be created or destroyed, or whatever. An eye for an eye. A god either takes the place of a mortal soul, forever condemning it to the Void, which is what they consider to be the pure gods… Or they get made.”
The storm’s reached the building, now, but Tubbo can’t hear the rain or the booming thunder. There’s only the pounding of his own heart and Schlatt’s voice. Melted gold meets hazel. Schlatt stares him down from across the room. The apple is brighter than the torches on the wall.
“I’ll ask again. If you had the choice to become a god, would you?”