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At first, it’d been nothing more than fleeting glances, soft eyes that smiled. Then soon enough, it was lingering gazes and standing far too close to be anything short of professional. Then came the desperate yearning, the type of craving that left you cold and alone. He knew well enough that it’d never be reciprocated, after all, could gods even love? Even if they could, why would one being so transcendent to himself ever look at him the same way? No they- or rather it wouldn’t. Not in a hundred years, not in a decade nor thousands of millennia. Gods only associated themselves with the truly worthy and if one hung out with a mortal long enough, you knew that they were a big deal. Cae only knew of two others the god had taken an interest in, not that he’d ever met them of course. He couldn’t help but feel envious, yeah sure the god hung around him, but he was never actually interested in Cae himself, only ever the fact that he was unusual and bypassed the usual workings of kingdom-nations and found his way into the gods land. He knew that once the god deemed itself knowledgeable on him and his kind enough, he’d leave him be and not return. He couldn’t stand the thought of that, in fact, he could swear on his father’s grave it’d be the end of him. So he tried to keep the god pleased, answering questions, explaining the Catacombs, talking about himself, his species, his homeland- not that he particularly wanted to, in any scenario, but he wanted the god to like him and stay around, so he did anything and everything he could, hoping that his efforts would pay off. Originally he’d been frightened of the being, anyone would have been. Not now. Not anymore, how could he be?
Bubbling lava far beneath his hooved feet, and the dry, red earth of the ancient dimension had pulled him back into a retreating world of his mind, losing himself amongst the background ambience. His mind sought to forget it all, to just live without such burdens. A crackling, wispy, echoing voice resounded through the atmosphere, alerting him to the presence of something else. He’d panicked, at first under the assumption it was a ghast or -somehow- a wither. When he twisted his head over to the voice, he’d been taken aback by the sheer beauty of the god. It oozed power and ethereality, and he was immediately drawn to its seraphic wings of pure, blinding white. Eyes nestled themselves within the feathers, peering down at him, him. A thrill of electricity zipped through his stomach and he found himself craving more. He wanted this creature’s attention. Needed it in fact. His scorching gaze raked over the god adorned in the finest robes. To say the god was breathtaking was surely an understatement. But normal people didn’t think these things and felt this way so Caeneus politely questioned it and shoved whatever.. those thoughts were down. Where they couldn’t be known. The hybrid was more than pleased to learn the gods name, softly whispering it lest he should forget it. Its name was like sugar on his tongue, saccharine melting against his tongue all too peacefully, and all so much like the names of his old friends. Ones he couldn't even remember. Its name was a grounding force, reaching into the starry sky and regifting gravity to his fragile soul, bringing him down to the land. The god was displeased with his existence however, and he’d come to find out later that the god had been trying to send him to a neighbouring village, to get rid of him. Not that he could be sent back to a home that wasn’t home anyways.
Falling through the Portal, engulfed in swirling violet, he looked back up to the sky, once more. The sky was dependable, trustworthy, a friend. Something he hadn’t had in so long, and the void had filled it. He could always look to the sky in urgent need and the sky would always reciprocate. Now the sky looked down upon him, and informed him of the crepuscule. Cold stars hung in the void, glittering and twisting through the sky. It reminded him of his mother’s silk dress. The one she’d dance with his father in. He blinked, before hauling himself up off the cool stone that surrounded the portal and followed Apus home. Between another dreaming, he dreamt of a foggy figure, encapsulated by his friends. The figure twinkled, not unlike the sky. He imagined the illusion as real, believed that he had undergone a ritual, to see this person clearly once of great importance to him. He however had not. The morning came and left and when the sky had returned with his friends, he took it upon himself to finally go about his routine. Just as the man had finished collecting the crops from his small farm, no sooner had the god reappeared, demanding answers as to what he was, who he was and where he had come from. It wasn’t like he could decline, that would most surely invoke the ire of the god, and so he divulged the celestial being with what it came here for. This seemed to make the god satisfied and the eccedentesiast smiled once more, fangs glinting in the sharp sunlight.
He dreamt again, over and over, lost in an endless sea of what-ifs. When Caeneus woke again, it was noon and a week had passed. Shaking the sleep from his cold, weary bones once more, he yawned in content satisfaction as his joints popped upon stretching. It was just then, that a persistent tickle in his throat had him coughing. He braced himself over his dark wood desk, retching at the intrusion. He coughed harshly, and a yellow petal fell onto the desk, covered in a bit of saliva. He reared his head back in surprise, antlers scraping against the low hanging ceiling. Stunned, he snatched the petal up, shoving into the paper bin, before racing down to the Catacombs. Surely this.. ailment of sorts would be within the pages of the thousands of books he had? Surely enough, he found the name and cause, tucked away in the dustiest corner of the library’s hallways. Hanahaki.
Caeneus’s condition only worsened from there, now, a multitude of colourful flowers forced their way out, expelling from his lungs. Blood was now a common factor too, as the days went on. In all this time, he still hadn’t seen the god, who was the source of his disease. He knew there was no cure -except for reciprocation- but he denied what was true and set out for a cure. If only he’d known.
Walking alongside a ravine, he recognised the landmarks around him, noting it to be the area where the herb he was after grew. He focused on nothing around him, completely blocking out the outside world. He was too one-track minded on finding a way down. So much so that when a small portion of the dirt and stone crumbled beneath his hooves, he never noticed until he was frozen. Plummeting oh so fast down, his destination? Jagged stalagmites. Time was passing so impossibly fast yet he was frozen in time. Until he wasn’t. The false herb smiled in glee.
Speared upon the protruding rock, his breath shallow, he looked to the sky once more. And the sky mourned, its tears relentless against the world.