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newton’s first law of motion: an object at rest will remain at rest, and a body in motion will remain at motion unless acted upon by an external force.
you were young when you first met.
you’d accidentally stumbled on the forbidden land where the 「goddess」 resides. you find her locked inside a hut, someone who doesn’t even know how to speak, except to make the sounds of the birds no doubt she can hear. but there’s a very small opening on the hut.
through it, you feed her the berries you have been collecting, and her hands are maybe just a bit smaller than yours, with nails long and sharp.
you find yourself coming back to this little hut, and eventually, she learns how to call your name.
it is your name that would bring downfall.
because at the day they were to fully become a deity, it is also the first time you see her - hair like fire and eyes like amber - she calls your name. it is your name that smeared the purity of the ritual. the purity of the goddess.
you watch in horror as they offer her to the skies.
not long after that, your village is razed, and you wake up, amidst the pile of corpses and burnt houses.
you did not die.
you cannot die.
this is the 「curse」 you must live with, from now on.
years have passed since then, and the little village you were raised in has long since been lost to time. if it weren’t for the fact that you have been 「cursed」 perhaps you wouldn’t even believe it was real.
but you see his amber eyes - and he’s old here, so old, on his deathbed, when you find him in this lifetime.
“that’s a fascinating story,” he laughs softly, running out of breath rather quickly. “me.... a goddess?”
you hold his old, callused hand.
in this life, you found him too late.
“yes,” you reply.
“that's...” he sighs. “that's quite the story. it would be nice if it was true.”
you leave his children to mourn.
you wonder how many times you would have to do this before it breaks you.
(you couldn't have foreseen how many.)
life after life, you meet them; and life after life you have to watch them die.
all because of one thing you did as a child: befriend a young girl to be offered to the skies.
you meet them in the seas when they were a girl who led a fleet of pirate ships at the death of her husband; you meet them as a comrade in battle when he had two younger siblings back home that he gladly talks about. sometimes they grow up close to you, and sometimes you happen to meet them coincidentally.
always, you watch them die. different faces, different lives.
at night, when you sleep, you find it all blurring together. but always, always , their amber eyes pierce through you.
newton’s second law of motion: the force acting on an object is equal to the mass of that object times its acceleration.
you've tried, of course, avoiding them when you can, but life seems adamant on bringing you together.
you meet, once again, and he's as magnetic as he was in the first life; but this time he comes into your life like a whirlwind. he's the one who asks for your name and the one who asks you out.
and no matter how hard you want to say no, he's persistent.
you go steady. you learn how to say i love you. you get disgustingly domestic. and for a while, it was happy. and for a while, all was well.
you should have known it wouldn't last forever.
you of all people should have known better.
you always think you've gotten used to watching them die, but now that he lays bleeding clutching your hand you feel your stomach churn.
you want him to stay .
you want to look away from death.
but he raises a hand and pats your cheek. “don't miss me too much.”
you watch as he takes his last breath.
you can’t look away.
throughout the years, you find other people like you: there is the duo who have been bound to each other for eternity; another one with immortality but no memories of the lives they lead. there are old gods and demi-gods, left behind by the times changing.
this is where you meet him—not an immortal, but a time traveller. he jumps through books and stories, returning to the past or falling to the future.
you thought about asking him for help, but 「curses」 are a burden that cannot be shared.
so here is what you do: you make a machine to be able to return.
newton’s third law of motion: if two bodies exert forces on each other, these forces are equal in magnitude and opposite in direction.
it’s painful, reliving old memories, but this time you try your damndest to save them. shot and stabbed and burned—you try. but you still couldn’t. you figured maybe it was because they have to save themself, so you make a list of what you remember. all the things they should avoid, just so they wouldn’t die.
you land in a playground and you see her in a swing.
you remember this life. she was taken, another one of the children plucked from the street to become a thief. she will die in a few months, and it would be you who held her small frail body as she disappeared.
you give her the list.
“take that. memorise it. it will save your life.”
she gives you a blank look before she throws the paper right back at you.
“take—”
she shrugs. “can’t read.”
“...what?”
“never learned.” she shrugs, staring up at him. it’s those amber eyes again. “doesn't matter anyway, we all die sometime, mister.”
“do you ever wonder that maybe you got it all wrong?” the time traveller asks you quietly.
you frown. “what do you mean?”
“maybe it isn’t a curse.”
you think of everything you've been through and give a harsh, self-pitying laugh. “you think?”
you emerge in a very familiar restaurant.
once upon a time, this was a place you frequented with them.
in that life, you were to be married, but you ran away in fear.
you see him, dressed up well in a suit fidgeting with a small box that no doubt contained the engagement ring. it's the night of your proposal.
“he'll leave you, you know,” you say before you can even stop yourself. thankfully, the night hides your face from him.
he shrugs, and replies, without even looking at you, “everyone does, eventually.”
“he'll run away from your wedding and leave you.” you continue to press. you think that maybe if you change something, it will prevent his eventual death in front of you.
“dream.”
you jolt in surprise. you haven’t been referred to with that name in a long, long time. “how’d you know?” you feel breathless when you asked.
“your voice.” he looks at you, and smiles. “you look older.”
“i- i came- i’m from the future.”
“ah.”
pressured by your fear and the urgency of trying to make him listen , you tell him who you are. what has happened. is happening. will be happening. you tell him everything. “i'll just hurt you.” is what you end your lengthy spiel with.
“i can't say i believe you—”
“you believed i came from the future.”
“oh, hush. i mean, me being a goddess and all that. i mean.” he waves a hand in front of himself. “i'm just… me.”
“but fundy—” you open your mouth, try to argue, in all the lives you know what he's like by now: stubborn and loyal and impossibly loving. but he raises a hand to stop you from continuing.
“let me finish, please?”
you nod with a frown.
“i can't tell you what… the goddess… was thinking about but me? i'm happy with what you told me.”
“what?”
“dream. i'm never really alone. when i die, you're always there. i'm happy with that.”
you return to the modern world thoroughly chastised but still set on saving them. maybe even more eager than before.
you want, more than anything, for them to live.