Chapter Text
He answers the prayer, but his heart is no longer in it.
The man in front of him seems to pay no mind to the water slowly seeping into his clothes, head bowed and hands clasped tight, his wish a mantra, repeated over and over.
I want to be tall and strong, and sexy.
Vague familiarity tinges the way the words are uttered, and he raises a bemused eyebrow. He has no physical form here, and so instead of reaching out to lift the man's chin, he himself leans down to take a good look at the man's features, and his face falls. Ah. Once more, a reminder of what he's lost.
Time is a... curious constraint, to a god. The past is sacred, and under the protection of Lady Death and her champions, who record everything that happened. The records are sealed away, accessible only with Her permission. He had tried only once, after hearing from a passing saint about the rapture . In a place between worlds, the names falling from her lips as she recounted the events to her companion were familiar in a way a friend's distant acquaintances are, and so he turned and saw her frame, moss green and sunflower gold, and whatever passes for a heart in his chest in this place between worlds skipped a beat as she spoke of explosions, and fire, and the end of the world.
Lady Death was unrelenting in Her decision. It is all past, She says, eyes old and tired, and knowing as he made his plea. They were gone. And so was Her champion. As it was foretold.
The man's prayer tastes of impatience and frantic need to create. He leans back against the column of the fountain, considering. In the now , he has all the time to respond, even though deep down, he knows he has already made up his mind, and hates his decision.
"I have given you my blessing once before," he says to the man who cannot hear him, not yet. "I have given my blessing to you and your friend, and you built palaces, do you remember?"
He sighs and reaches down to dip his fingers in the dancing water, the liquid sloshing through his immaterial digits. "Or do you remember Her champion's wedding gifts?"
He does not expect an answer. The tip of his finger dissolves below the water surface. He leans in, face to face with the man, and gives him a sad smile. "Very well, your wish is granted." He dives underwater and takes a deep breath.
Joel's eyes snap open, and he steps out of the fountain, but not before looking down. His reflection stares back at him, the same but also more . He could swear his eyes flash gold for just a split second.
Stratos settles into the bones of his champion, centuries too late. This is his punishment. Go on, he hums, build me an empire.