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Art has developed in an interesting way in the past few centuries. Before, art was something that would often take months or even years to produce and now humans have developed the technology to take a single snapshot of a scene. Within that scene, you can see a myriad of things. Destruction, violence, persistence, and hope. Quite the sight.
Maybe Gilgamesh was right.
Maybe a detour before returning to his village wasn’t all a waste. Even if he preferred just returning to the Amazon from Australia as soon as possible.
How long have places like these existed? Back in the day, the only ones who were able to enjoy art like this were the nobility and the rich. They had all been invited to go to such showings, but the only person who was particularly excited about it was Makkari. (Well, he had been too, but that was because he liked seeing her so happy). He wonders if she’s already been to places like this? There’s quite a bit he doesn’t know about since he’s resigned to his village.
A pair of hands reaches out in front of him, “This isn’t your village.”
“It’s not,” he says aloud, signing alongside his words without a second’s thought.
“Why are you here?”
“Call it a vacation.” He holds his gaze on the painting in front of them. He can’t quite bear to see her expression yet, he wouldn’t be able to take it if she looked at him in disappointment. ‘I’ll be gone in a few hours if you’d rather enjoy the art by yourself.”
Her hands remain still for a moment. “There’s a piece in the other hall that I’m interested in. Care to join?”
Without thinking, he turns to her.
He almost forgets to breathe at the sight of her.
She’s there.
Makkari’s really there.
He almost expected her to be angry at him, or at least miffed for the way that he left. But her expression was unwaveringly neutral, acting almost as if nothing’s happened. It’s comforting, but he wonders what’s going on in her mind. If he extends his mind by just the tiniest bit, he would be able to hear the thoughts coming from her mind.
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t dare.
Druig’s eyes lock onto the painting in front of them again. He shouldn’t accept her offer. He should just leave now and pretend that this entire interaction didn’t exist. That would be the reasonable thing to do.
But reason escapes his mind when he’s around her.
So, he nods and they walk side by side through the museum.
He doesn’t offer his hand.
She doesn’t ask for it.
But rather, she asks, “How much longer do you have?”
“My flight is in three hours.” Although it would barely take a minute for her to take him back to the Amazon. But he wouldn’t ask that of her.
She doesn’t say anything further, but continues walking forward to view more of the museum.
He follows, making sure that he’s not a step behind or a step ahead of her.
They roamed from paintings to photographs, from murals to sculptures. Neither of them saying a word and yet the silence wasn’t awkward or strained, no it was similar to how they used to be while roaming marketplaces or when they observed masterpieces from artists that were now legends.
The art was beautiful.
Although it was hard to really look when she kept catching his eye.
How could he not want a glance at the living, breathing, ever beautiful Makkari? Even in her period appropriate attire, she still stood out from the crowds of humans. Looking at her now almost makes him think that nothing’s changed.
Isn’t that a naïve thought?
Centuries have come and gone. Earth has changed so much in the time that he’s secluded himself in the Amazon. Is it so hard to believe that they’ve changed as well?
Though they’ve lived for millennia, even the Eternals are not impervious to change. Like Thena’s fracturing mind that haunts her. Like Phastos, who had given up on humanity and his powers just a few decades ago.
He wonders how the others have changed. He wonders how Makkari has changed.
Just what is she thinking now?
How did she like that photograph that she saw Druig standing in front of? Which pieces did she already see? What brought her here now? When she was looking at these pieces, was she reminded of the time that they spent in Greece? Or perhaps of the time that they spent with the artists of the Renaissance era?
“See anything you like?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I always want to know what’s going on in your mind.”
“Well, what do you think I’m thinking? Which piece do you think I like?” she challenged, lifting her chin slightly.
He scanned the room, before pointing to the one right across from them, “You’re interested in that.”
“Why that one?”
“The other ones are fine, but nothing particularly innovative. With this one, the more you look, the more there is to see, which makes it more interesting,” He lifted his chin with a smirk, "So was I right?"
“This time.”
He let out a small chuckle.
Makkari turned on her heel, facing him directly. She raised her hand, extending her fingers outward. Her name sign for him. Her vivid brown eyes pierced through him, “Are you happy now?”
She asks such difficult questions. But why wouldn’t she? Her thirst for knowledge was second to none. Besides, doesn’t she at least deserve an answer as to whether these past few centuries have been worth him disconnecting from their family, from her?
Druig looks at her, smiling. Because how could he not smile in her presence? How could he not smile when she was what kept him sane and compliant for so long? How could he not look at her, his heart swollen with love, and not want to smile?
“Of course not.”
Did taking those humans away from the world nearly five centuries ago make him happy?
It did for a bit.
After he released his initial control on them, he taught them about the truths of war, he taught them about compromising and learning to see past any initial negative emotions. He watched them as conquerors and subjugators reach out to each other instead of bearing weapons.
But that was a very, very miniscule thing that he did in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t erase the lives that were lost to war and violence in the past and will not erase the lives that will be lost.
Human history will repeat and rhyme. They’ll become susceptible to the temptations of power and dominance. They’ll create more weapons of war. They’ll become greedier. They’ll become more ruthless. More and more people suffer.
And yet…
And yet he still hasn’t quite given up on them. He still believes in their good and believes that the good in humans will be stronger than their impulses to destroy. Despite their violence and greed, there’s something so precious about them. That’s why he quickly abandoned the idea to try and control every human on this planet. He still loves humans, flaws and all.
But what’ll happen when he and the other Eternals are inevitably called back to Olympia?
What will happen to his people then?
Will he choose them over Olympia, over returning home? He’s already chosen them over the other Eternals. It’s because of his love for humans that he feels disconnected from the other Eternals, especially those who have a strong alliance to Arishem.
He can’t trust Arishem.
His distrust, his confusion, his questioning; when did it start? The start of Imperialism? The Holy Crusades? Babylon? Or was it during Mesopotamia?
He did try at first.
He tried to be strong. He tried to harden his heart and see past the lives that were being taken. He tried to understand that this was all part of Arishem’s plan.
He tried.
But how could he not break at the sight of war? How could he not weep at the sight of innocent people being caught up in a battle that they didn’t ask to participate in? How could he stay back and watch as so many lives were lost over and over again?
His purpose, what was the meaning of his purpose on this mission? Why did Arishem place him on this mission when Druig’s beliefs seemed to go against the Celestial’s?
Makkari, sensing his turmoil, reached out to him, as though releasing him from the confines of his thoughts. She held him by his cheek. Her eyes were heavy with concern. She guided his head down to meet hers. Her fingers wove through his hair and caressed the back of his neck.
It reminded him of the days when they would just… be. When they didn’t need to be Eternals on the lookout for Deviants, when they didn’t feel like being among the bustling marketplaces, when they were satisfied just being in each other’s companies.
He looked at her, her eyes stared right back. There was nothing but concern in her expression. No judgment, no resentment. Just genuine concern and… And something else, something softer, something tender, something warm.
“You’re being awfully nice.”
“You want me to be mean?”
“Aren’t you angry with me?”
She leaned away from him, but her hand remained on his neck. “I’m not angry.”
“Even for Tenochtitlan?”
She didn’t even flinch nor did she break her gaze with him. She did however pull her hands away so she could sign with both hands, “I was more sad than angry. Were you angry?”
“I was… frustrated.” So utterly frustrated at what was happening with Thena, with the decisions Ajak made, with the city burning and bleeding in the background. “Did you think I was angry?”
“I thought you needed time away from us,” she says after a moment, “I thought that was the right thing to do at the time. We both chose what we thought was right to do at the time.”
Druig held his gaze and agreed, “We did.”
He chose not to look back.
She chose not to follow after.
Those were the decisions that were made. She seemed understanding of his decision. He could never resent Makkari for her decision. But…
“Did you ever consider coming to see me?”
“I thought that you didn’t want to see any of us. It sounds like you missed me, did you?"
"I did." Even those words were an understatement. “Did you miss me?”
Her eyes glanced down, "Isn't it time for you to get to your flight?"
If she didn’t want to answer, he wasn’t going to push her.
"So it is." As Druig walked to the entrance of the museum, Makkari had followed him, not a single step faster or a single step behind. “Leaving so soon?”
“I’ve seen all that I wanted to.”
“Is that so? Where are you headed to next?”
She shrugged to give off an air of nonchalance, “Haven’t decided yet.”
"Hm." Druig’s eyes flew gold as he waved down a cab. Just as he was about to enter the cab, he looked at her one more time. "Peru is nice this time of year.”
Her eyes widened by the slightest millimeter. There was a little quirk of her lips, “I’ll consider it.”
He smiled back at her, “If you visit, I’ll be sure to welcome you, my beautiful Makkari.”