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“And what’s your demonic pseudonym going to be?”
Ford sat in the living room, a pile of books in front of him, while Stan floated above him, wobbling a bit. Damn if getting the hang of these stupidly-placed wings wasn’t hard as hell.
“My demonic pseudowha?” Stan said. Even though he knew what a pseudonym was, especially with that whole ‘infinite knowledge’ perk he had now, he would never miss the opportunity to get his brother to speak like a normal human, like Stan. Or, well, not like Stan, anymore.
A flicker of irritation passed Ford’s face. “Your nickname, Stan, your nickname.”
“Why do I have to have a nickname? Can’t I just go by Stan?”
“If you want to give out your true name and identity to every cult and summoner that would want to use it to bind you, then yes, you can. Otherwise I’d say it’s an extremely poor idea.”
“Alright, sheesh, I get the point. Mr. Mystery then.”
“No. That’s already a big hint as to your identity.”
“¿…Señor Misterioso?”
“No.”
“I’ll just go by Stanford then. Technically that’s one of my nickn—”
“Stanley.”
“Fine.” Stan crossed his arms. “What did you have in mind, brainiac?”
Ford pulled one of the books, labeled Symbolism and Mythology, toward himself. As he opened it and flipped through the stupidly large amount of pages, Stan’s eyes began to widen. “Well,” Ford said, “it would require a lot of research. You want something that describes you still, I’m assuming, but the name shouldn’t indicate who you actually are. It should be believably demonic so people don’t suspect your origins, and of course there’s the matter of—”
“Oh no. Nuh-uh. There’s no way in hell I’m doing this. I’m not going to waste my time looking through random books and doing namby-pamby research just to find a nickname for myself.”
Ford frowned, glancing down at the book a couple times as if trying to stop himself from reading the whole thing right that minute. “Why not?”
“Well yeesh Sixer, it’s not like we’re naming a baby here! Give me something that rolls off the tongue and I’ll be happy, howsaboutit?”
“Fine, fine. Still, it should have some meaning to it…” Stan could almost see the gears in Ford’s head turning. After a few moments, Ford said, “Do you remember Latin class? Back in high school?”
“Pfft, I thought you knew me better ‘n that, brother. ‘Course I don’t.”
“There was a god we learned about…a Roman god. I think he’d fit you well—he’s a trickster, and patron of commerce, travelers, and thie—”
“Just say who he is.”
“Mercury.”
Stan wondered why Ford picked that name, but only for a brief moment—for as soon as he wondered, some floodgate opened in his mind and information from God-knows-where came pouring in. He cursed to himself in shock, but almost as suddenly as the information flow had started, it stopped. And now he knew way too much information about Mercury—the scientific element, the alchemical symbol, the planet, the god. He also had a splitting headache.
“What do you think?” Ford said.
Stan blinked and realized, though he didn’t know how he knew, that only a few seconds had passed. “Uh, yeah, that’s great,” he said gruffly, still trying to orient himself.
“Really?”
As Stan went over the information he’d just gotten, far quicker than he ever could’ve as a human, he realized just how appropriate the name Mercury was after all, in more ways than he thought possible. It was as if the name had been waiting for him to claim it his whole life. He scratched his head. “Yes,” he said, with all the sincerity he could muster. “Really.”
Ford’s eyes seemed to shine and Stan couldn’t help but crack a smile. He had always been the nicknamer, so it was kind of amusing having the tables turned. And just how long had it been since they’d acted like this? Like brothers?
“We’ll probably have to tweak it,” Ford said. “Like I mentioned, it should be believably demonic…how about Mercuriat?”
“That’s not even a word, genius,” Stan blurted out, as his newfound knowledge informed him of it. Internally he was trying to wrestle with the feeling that it was a cool name that he should appreciate getting from his brother, and the feeling that it was pompous and stupid. When Ford’s face fell, Stan quickly added, “but that makes it all the more demony, amirite, Sixer? Mystical names from other dimensions…or some shit like that. Let’s go with it.”
“That’s fantastic, Stan. Thank you,” Ford said, a grateful, slightly confused smile on his face.
There was an awkward silence between the two, and Stan struggled to think of something to say that wasn’t so sappy that it would make him want to punch himself in the mouth. He hadn’t really expected this to go as easily as it did, and it didn’t look like Ford had either. He cleared his throat.
“I guess we should come up with a name for you, then.”
“Wha—why? I’m not a demon or anything, that seems a little unnecessary—“
“Can it, pointdexter, if I want to give you a nickname, you’re getting a nickname.” In truth, Stan didn’t know why he felt the need to name Ford…again…but it felt like something he needed to do. He closed his eyes and inhaled, opening the floodgates of his mind just a crack. The dump of information almost overwhelmed him and he shut them quickly, but he knew the name now, he was sure of it.
“Sulphus,” he said resolutely. “That’s you.” He was distantly aware of something locking into place in the universe, but he ignored it for now.
Ford mouthed the word, then grabbed a book and started leafing through it. “Sulphus…the Latin word for sulfur…” He muttered to himself for a bit more, then read aloud, “One of the three principal elements in alchemy…together, sulfur and mercury have the ability to create all the other elements, and are considered the building blocks of the universe.” He looked up, his eyes wide. “Stan, is this...is this why you want to call me that?”
Stan nodded.
“That’s…surprisingly nice of you. I don’t quite know what to say.”
“Yeah yeah. That’s not the only reason I decided to call you sulfur though.”
“Really? What’s the other reason?”
“Because,” he said, grinning. “Sulfur smells like old farts.”