Work Text:
The tides follow the moon. These days it’s known that they are caused by the gravitational force of the moon and thus get attracted to the moon. Nothing more and nothing less, it is a simple fact. But a long time ago, when this simple fact had not been discovered yet, people found their own explanations. Stories were made and now, one of these stories shall be recounted.
Long ago, there was a god, who ruled over the moon and all that was done under its light and in its shadows, be it secrets exchanged, or people killed. This god was commonly known as Verlaine. He was a god most fascinated by humans, how strong their emotions were and how they lived their lives so controlled by it, something he could never see for himself. He lived idly in his realm, choosing to fulfil the humans’ prayers to him as he saw fit. It wasn’t laziness that made him so, but he simply couldn’t understand the urgency of the humans’ requests. He wasn’t like them after all.
Long ago, there was a man, who lived on the sea. His name was Rimbaud. He was a peculiar man for many reasons. Even though he was still young, there was a wisdom behind his eyes, and he had stories upon stories to tell. He also dressed in a thick coat, thick boots for hiking and a warm scarf regardless of weather. It is said the gods had cursed him, to never feel warmth himself for all the lives he took, the warmth he took, through his life. He ran away from his former life, to spend the rest of his days peacefully on the sea.
This man, Rimbaud, would spend his nights admiring the moon. He wouldn’t pray to it, neither worshipping the god nor asking for his guidance or help. He simply told the many stories of his life. Intrigued by this, Verlaine would listen, each night more intently than the last, until one day he descended down to the sailor and met him in person.
Some said from there it was love at first sight, while some said this was merely the start of it all.
But the start isn’t what matters here, now is it? After some time, the two had a routine, in which the god would spend his day with the sailor and the night fulfilling his duties in his realm. Verlaine felt, for maybe the first time in his immortal existence, content. It was this feeling that led to the downfall of it all; for one day, the god posed a simple question to the sailor.
“Would you let me make you immortal, and let us spend the rest of eternity together?” Verlaine wasn’t used to this company, and he wanted to keep it. Like many Gods before him and many after, he was selfish. But the mortal refused. Rimbaud wouldn’t accept this offer. He enjoyed his simple life on sea and wasn’t life precious only because it wasn’t eternal? At least, that was what he thought. This enraged the god.
Why would he deny? Deny him? Who would even dare deny a god? In this rage, Verlaine disappeared, and Rimbaud would never see him again. How exactly the sailor died is unclear, if he had been attacked on sea or gotten an injury he couldn’t treat, or if another god had sought vengeance for their hurt kin. Most people simply say he died of heartbreak.
But Verlaine learned of his death rather quick, for he always watched the sailor under the light of his moon. One day, the sailor couldn’t be found, and he knew. Rimbaud was gone from the mortal realm. That day, the moon couldn’t be seen, the sky was dark, and no light shone anymore. The god abandoned his duty, to mourn the only joy he’d ever known. The issue was, the light kept monsters away. The god of the moon protected the people under his light and went after the people hiding in his shadows.
Deep down, the fallen in the underworld learned of this. Rimbaud knew. He needed to talk to Verlaine one last time, they parted on not so good terms after all. If he could have one last conversation, he thought, it would all be alright again. So, he went to the lord of the underworld, begging and pleading to be let out, for just a moment, please. But the lord wouldn’t budge.
“You can either stay here, in my realm,” he said, voice stern and unwavering, “or leave and let your spirit wander for eternity. I cannot grant you access to enter my realm again.” So, Rimbaud did the only thing he could. He left the underworld, never to return.
Lucky for him, the sea, which housed him during his life, would let his soul rest within it. Now, for eternity, the sea would follow the moon, forever trying to embrace it, as if to comfort it. And however small the presence of the sailor’s soul was, the moon could sense it and returned its light back to the night. He would slowly return his full light to search for his lost love and then slowly take it back, as he returns to mourning for one night. Through the month one could see the moon slowly appear full and then disappear fully into what is known as a new moon.
That is the story of the tides and the moon.