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The world is changing.
The world’s always changing, but this time Foolish can sense things becoming different.
The forests grow thicker, the people wilder. Magic seems to flow through the veins of more folk than it doesn't. This makes Foolish’s duties as a totem of death… interesting. Not only are people beginning to live longer, they've also started trying to summon him, even make deals with him. Foolish has no interest in bargains and contracts, whether it's to bring a loved one back, to gift power, or to prolong death. Sometimes it's out of his realm of ability, but mostly he prefers not to interfere with mortals.
Well. Mostly.
Eret is the exception.
Foolish finds him accidentally this time. He's flying over what locals are calling an 'enchanted wood' when something tells him to land. He listens to his instincts and gently touches down. It's calm as he looks around, taking in the area. The rocks along the bank of the nearby river glow a faint green, but other than that he doesn't understand why-
There’s a rustle behind him, and he's immediately back in the air, on guard, trident in hand.
“Hello?”
No response.
He slowly turns, surveying his surroundings with a keener eye, and…
There.
Something is peering out at him from behind a bush. No, not something. Some one .
A familiar someone, he realizes with delight.
“Eret!”
He bolts, and Foolish is left standing there watching him go.
Huh. Alright then.
About half a lunar cycle passes as Foolish explores the woods. Eret makes a few appearances as he roams, and Foolish finally gets a good look at him.
His skin is very pale, to the point of near translucence, and his ears come to a tapered point, a pair of feathers dangling from one. His hair looks more tangled than anything else, like it's been cut haphazardly and then left to the elements. The sclera of his eyes are black, which is new, but the iris and pupil glow a familiar white. Strange golden stripes grace his cheekbones. He looks wild, and beautiful.
Foolish knows it’s time to stay.
Locals begin to swap tales of the fae creature that the god of death has taken a shine to, and only the brave or the stupid enter the forest.
He finds a nice cave and sets to work making it homey. He may be a god of death but he has standards, after all.
He's taken as close to a mortal form as he can manage, but little hints of his true nature still peek through: limbs just a little too long, teeth just this side of too sharp, skin that shimmers gold in the sun. It's shimmering now, as he fells a tree.
His plans for the day start with getting more wood to continue renovating, and he's gotten about halfway through the trunk when he becomes aware of Eret's presence. He pauses for a moment, only long enough to wipe the sweat from his brow before carrying on.
After a few failed attempts to approach him that ended in hissing and fleeing, Foolish has decided to let Eret come to him.
And he does, perching in a tree and watching him work. Foolish lets this continue for a few days before he begins talking.
Not to Eret, really, but for him. He narrates what he's doing: counting out blocks to make sure everything's even, musing about what color palette he wants to go for.
A few more days pass, and as the sun begins to set Foolish turns from his project and finds Eret crouched on the ground.
“Hey, bud,” he says, tone low and even, like he’s talking to an animal he’s trying not to spook.
Eret narrows his eyes.
“You can come in, if you wanna,” he offers, turning back to the makeshift door of his home. He leaves it open behind him, unbothered by any errant creatures that might find their way in. The errant creature in particular he’s hoping will come in, however, remains right where he is.
That’s fine by Foolish. The world is different now, it only makes sense that Eret would be too. He can be patient.
It only takes a few lunar cycles for Eret to go from watching Foolish’s work from in a tree, to behind a bush, to sitting on a rock nearby. He just watches.
In the meantime, Foolish’s abode has turned into quite the masterpiece, if he does say so himself. Really, it had been perfectly fine after about five days, but Eret only made an appearance when Foolish was otherwise occupied, so he began expanding. Further into the cave, he’s made a tidy little kitchen and dining area- not that he needs to eat, but on the off chance he ever had a visitor, he’d like to be prepared. There’s a neat little aquarium he’s rather proud of; it takes the place of a wall between two bedrooms.
When he’d finished making the interior as homey as possible, he’d turned to making other things. He finds a strange solace in building, a kind of peace he hasn’t quite felt in a long time. It’s become more than just a way to occupy his time as Eret acclimates to him, and he genuinely loves it.
As the seasons shift, Eret seems to be letting his guard down more and more. Spring shifts into summer as Eret spends more and more of his time on the ground. He still hasn’t spoken, and Foolish wonders more than once if he can.
Autumn fades quietly into winter, and Foolish is still going to leave his door open in case Eret comes in but he suspects they’ll be heading… elsewhere for the season. He's in his kitchen one night, thinking about making tea to combat the fierce chill in the air as the sun sets.
He senses it the moment Eret crosses the threshold.
Okay. Now's the time.
“You want somethin’ warm to drink?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.
Eret narrows his eyes but nods.
“Tea okay?”
Another nod.
Foolish sets to work, putting a kettle on as Eret wanders through the living area. There’s a few chairs, but he chooses to sit on the rug by the fire.
Foolish wonders if maybe he isn’t cold blooded. He doesn’t wear much in the way of clothes, and more than once during the summer Foolish had found him hidden away in the shade when the sun was at its highest. He’s not sure whether or not it would be impolite to ask, and is less sure if Eret would even understand the question. He’s obviously intelligent, he always is, but Foolish gets the sense that maybe he hasn’t spent enough time around humans to understand their science. So he doesn’t ask.
He watches the kettle carefully and removes it from the heat just before it begins to whistle, knowing the noise would startle Eret. Speaking of whom… Eret is currently curled up beside the fire, eyes closed. He’s not asleep, there’s still too much tension in his body for that, but it still indicates a level of trust Foolish is surprised to receive.
After winter has truly set in, Eret spends most of his time curled up in front of the fire. Foolish has taken to reading to him lately. He’s trying to make their time together enjoyable, but he doesn’t know if Eret actually likes spending time with him here, or if it’s just a warm place to stay.
He pauses after finishing a chapter, and Eret looks at him, confused.
"You can understand me, can’t you?"
He nods.
“Why can’t I understand you?” He’s not frustrated, he’s- okay. He’s a little frustrated. But not with Eret. Just with their situation in general. “If you can’t talk, that’s alright. I’d still like to communicate with you… somehow.”
Eret smiles. You’re funny.
“What the fuck?” Foolish yelps, tipping out of his chair. “Eret?”
That’s what you call me.
“Are you- you’re telepathic?”
If that’s what you call this.
“That’s the word for talking with your- wait.” He scrambles up and points at them accusingly. “Have you been able to do this the whole time?”
Yes.
“All those days I spent talking to you, you never once thought to talk back?”
He shrugs. You never expressed that you wanted me to.
“I-” He stops. That’s technically true. “Is it- are you- does this go two ways? Like, can you read my mind?”
Things don’t work that way.
Right. Okay. Telepathic Eret. Cool. He can roll with this.
“Well, hi, I guess! How are you? It’s been awhile, man!”
Eret tips his head to the side. You knew me?
“Yeah,” Foolish laughs. “You and me, we go way back.”
I don’t understand.
He’s staring at Foolish, unblinking, and it’s unsettling, sure, but he can finally talk to Eret. “You know what I am, right?”
He regards Foolish thoughtfully. You are… something old. Much older than me.
“Totem of death,” he supplies. “I’m immortal.”
And I am…?
“You,” he says, grinning, “are Eret.”
What am I to you, then?
This throws him for a loop. “Uhhh, I’m not sure, to be honest.”
You’ve known me before. This one isn’t a question.
“You come around a lot. Me, I’m always around, so… We run into each other.”
He’s quiet, apparently processing this. Foolish climbs over the back of the chair and sits, knees drawn up to his chest. “I’ve missed you, y’know.”
Why?
“You’re my-” he stops himself again. Eret has been a lot of things to him, has been everything to him, and there’s never been a word he could find that was good enough to apply to it all.
I am… yours?
Huh. “If you wanna look at it that way, I guess you could be.”
And you are…?
“I think I’m yours, too.”
Eret smiles again, warm and so familiar it makes something bloom in Foolish’s chest.