Chapter Text
The village celebrates many gods, many times a year. There were the main four immortals, Goddess of death and God of survival with their younger children: God of war and blood; and God of music and fate. The four of them represented family- a big ideology in the village, and therefore got a week-long celebration for them. Streets full of vendors and balloons, parades that would last for hours, music that went on till sunset.
Other immortals got smaller one-day celebrations.
Tommy ducked past another crowd of people in the streets, all out to celebrate the Demi-God, Rimbaud of history, and the memories that come with it.
To most, today was a big day to recall deceased family and reconnect with old friends. To Tommy, he had food shopping to do.
He broke away from the flow of people and off to a side road in a vain attempt to avoid the crowded main road. The venues filled with red and green-themed objects weren’t a necessity. And just by the weight in his pocket, Tommy could tell he could only afford necessities.
He’ll need to pick up more shifts at the bakery next week. He’ll need to talk to Niki about that.
The village was already a pretty bustling place normally- now take the village on a holiday? The fourteen-year-old froze at the sight of dozens of families crowded in the streets, even on the backroads.
The roads weren’t an option.
Tommy huffed at the inconvenience, turning into an alleyway. At the end of the dead-end, he reached up to grip the familiar pipe, feet on the walls, hoisting himself up.
He knew it was sturdy from thousands of previous attempts, but his stomach never failed to twist the further he got from the ground. Forcing himself to look up, Tommy pulled himself over the lip of the wall, throwing his upper half onto the roof.
He let himself lay there for a second, definitely not wheezing, just listening to the sounds of the town below him.
Everyone always put their blind fate in the gods- something Tommy couldn’t understand. Not anymore at least. The immortals were real, sure, there was enough proof for that- but it didn’t mean they cared. They were selfish creatures. Feeding off people's love, gifts, and prays- but never giving an ounce in return. At least Tommy thought so. And as he stood up, peering over the edge of the building, he seemed to be the only one who felt that way.
Music swirled beneath his feet as people sang and danced under the late afternoon sun. They drank and cheered, celebrating the demi-god.
Do the gods even pay attention to their days?
Tommy crossed the roof, hopping down to a shorter one as he began to cross the town- this time without interruptions.
He didn’t pray, not ever, but Rimbaud was the one immortal he could respect . Memories were important to Tommy. The recollections of people long gone were something he wished never faded. Memories were all he had left of course. So out of all the days of celebration- this was the one he could understand. Less for the god, and more for the remembrance of the past and rejoice of the future.
Despite the crowd in the street around it, the stands themselves busy at all. The ‘shop’ was a glorified tent holding a dozen or so smaller vendors underneath and Tommy walked through the stands of foods, mindful of the light weight in his pocket.
He had to be smart this week.
No snacks because he liked them- rather the food that would help him live. He learned long ago the importance of eating smart. Most fourteen-year-olds don’t have to do that. Most fourteen-year-olds aren’t Tommy.
He handed a gold nugget to the man at the apple stand and watched as he filled the bag with six apples.
Normally it wouldn't be worth it, but the apples looked bigger this week- and an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Well, maybe the doctor can visit on Sunday.
He continues to shop as the crowds outside of the tents begin to fade.
“Doing some shopping for your mother, young man?” The bright woman behind the vegetable stand asked as she placed carrots into the bag for Tommy.
He forced a smile, hoping his toothy grin showed for bonus points. He’s no child, a big man for sure, but if it helps him, he can play the innocent act.
“Mhmm!” He holds out a gold nugget.
“Oh, silver will do just fine my dear!” The women cooed. “Go spend the rest on a holiday treat as a gift from me for being such a gentleman and helping your family.”
Bingo.
“Thank you, Miss!”
The sun was setting as Tommy left the shops satisfied with the two gold he managed to save. The main road had managed to empty as the sun went down and families went inside to eat dinner together. As a family.
Tommy reached into his bag and bit into one of his apples. Maybe the doctor can visit Saturday as well. He’s hungry.
And alone.
He crosses through the empty streets to the familiar apartment building. It’s old, and most of its inhabitants have left through the years- leaving him and his cranky landlady three floors below him. But the rent is cheap and his parents lived here with him before, he doesn't wanna leave that behind.
“Hey, Mom and Dad.” Tommy said as he swung open the front door, waving to the two urns on the fireplace by habit. The fireplace was decorative and dirty matching with the rest of the apartment.
A fourteen-year-old doesn't have time to take care of himself, work, and clean. Besides, no one was coming home to visit or anything. The fireplace and other old decorative furniture were no cause for concern.
Tommy placed his goods from today in the fridge before sitting at the small dining room table- glancing across the apartment to where his parents sat.
“Happy Rimbaud day.” He said softly. Tommy never talked much at home, hating the way his voice echoed off walls as a reminder he was alone. He only ever spoke when talking to his parents, and even those conversations were brief where there was no one to speak back. “The celebrations were pretty today. It was harder to get to the stores, but the music was nice.”
Tommy looked across the room to the old piano on the far wall. Out of everything dusty in the apartment- the instrument was not. Tommy remembers his mom teaching him the basics of piano, and all these other skills through the years have been self-taught. There was a half-written sheet of music resting above the keys that Tommy hadn't touched in months. He learned pretty quickly he was no songwriter.
Still, the piano itself was fun. Music reminded him of his mom. It reminded him of the nights he and his family would spend in this same room. Tommy danced with his Dad why his mother played the piano for the whole apartment complex to hear. Those were the happy memories Rimbaud day was about. Less of the god, more of the family and recollections.
To Tommy, at least.
***
The meeting hall was a glorified conference room, with one long table and chairs on all ends. Normally, the table was filled with gods, goddesses, and demi-gods alike, but today it sat only four. The god of survival had called a family meeting, although to the younger of the two brothers- it felt more like teaming up.
There was no way Techno had to be involved in this . Wilbur frowned, glaring at his twin from across the table. The god of blood and war simply gazed back, unreadable expressions like always.
At the foot and head of the table sat the Goddess of death and the God of survival respectively, sitting yards away from their boys.
There was no need for a table this long . Wilbur thought.
“Wilbur,” Phil spoke first, breaking the silence of the meeting hall. “We’ve had this discussion before about your responsibilities.”
When his son gave no response, the god of survival continued.
“Your response to the mortals has decreased heavily over the eons. You need to begin responding to prayers and gifts again. The humans will lose faith in you. Who are you to be a god if there are no humans to follow you?”
“I’m a minor god. Practically a demi-god. I control fate and music . You’ve got survival, mom’s got death- hell even Techno’s got fucking war and blood . I love music, but it’s hardly a major god jurisdiction.” The young god crossed his arms.
“
Mate
, that doesn't mean you can just ignore your duties.” Phil got up, crossing the room to stand next to Wilbur.
“Mortals only survive on blind faith for so long,” The goddess of death spoke up, gaze locked firmly on her son. “Your father is right. You need to take your job as a god more seriously. Without worshippers to keep you busy, eternity can be a very boring existence.”
The god of fate and music shrugged. He’s heard this story before.
“I’m starting to think you need to see it for yourself to understand.” His father placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your melody matters, so you're going down to watch those who play it.”
The young god leaned back, shrugging off the hand. “You’re sending me down to earth?!”
Even Techno’s eyes widened at the chosen punishment.
“Not for long. Just until you learn how important your role is. Music is in the hearts of many, and fate plays a role in all. There is a kid, your mother has been watching over. We have reason to believe this young boy can help you learn, but you must help him first.”
“Wilbur’s getting sent on babysitting duty ?” Techno’s every were filled with way too much glee for his brother liking.
“ Technoblade .” Kristen chided.
“No, he’s right!” Wilbur scoffed. “I’m getting told to babysit! Who even is this kid?”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Phil said.
Wilbur crossed his arms as his mom continued explaining his punishment.