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Jimmy watched carefully as the wounded man stumbled deeper into his temple, and made sure to stay always just behind him, lingering in the shadows and doorways. The blood from the wound on the side of the other’s torso really was gushing now, and if this mortal wasn’t careful…
Another fragment of him snared a soul, whispering comforting words to it, and a spike of pain shot through him, but he didn’t trip. He was far too used to this sensation for it to bother him anymore. And anyway, what did he care for mortals, much less a random one who stumbled into his last safe house and was bleeding to death? Nothing.
And yet, he felt for the other as his breathing grew more ragged and erratic, his steps shuffling and dragging the soles of his shoes against the ground. One of his boots- quality, strong leather, with metal toes, he must have been someone important, but most likely not anymore- caught on a root as he rounded a corner, and the man tripped.
Quickly, faster than Jimmy would have expected for a human, much less one that was wounded, he reached out for a vine on the wall and managed to catch himself against it, slamming his wounded side into the stone corner of the wall. He sank against the wall, seeming to hold back a shriek of pain, and let out a groan instead after a few seconds. Jimmy watched him for a moment more (why did he care?) before looking up and realizing where they were.
A long room stretched before them, barely reached by any of the sunlight from the entrance this far back into the temple, the sides of the room lined with chests he knew had once been full of treasure- and above them, on the walls, murals. Murals depicting the old pantheon at its peak, teeming with new-born gods, risen mortals, and living legends. He caught a sight of the sun god’s face, peeking out from behind vines blooming with red and purple flowers, and bit back a sigh. As much as he hated to admit it, he did miss them- all of them, even when they had made fun of him. He’d do anything to see them now.
At the end of the room stood his altar, barren except for a couple old candles, a flint and steel, and a small birdcage, with a tiny bird skeleton lying at the bottom. Long ago, when this place had been first abandoned, the altar and the pots and vases beside it were full of rotten fruit, stale food, and dead flowers. He had cleaned those all out millenia ago, however. It was less shameful to have a barren altar than one covered in rotted, decaying offerings.
This was a sacred place, a place only the priests and those properly prepared were allowed to enter- and this… this dirty, disgusting, bleeding mortal, had defiled this place. How dare he. A simmering rage, drawing on more of his power than he could afford rose up in his stomach, and Jimmy desperately tried to shove it down, knowing it would only cost him precious energy.
The mortal in question had dragged himself to his feet again, and was staring around the room, eyes wide in awe. His hand traced one of the vines on the wall, one that had covered the moon goddess’s moth wing in one of those murals- and okay, yeah, those plants had already defiled this place a lot more than this man had. The rage in his stomach settled down again, and Jimmy let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding.
The stranger continued wandering down the room, towards the altar, and Jimmy was glad that at least he hadn't tried to steal anything. The last mortal who entered the temple, an angry looking woman with black hair cut close to her scalp, had stepped foot in the door and immediately took a knife to one of the gold tiles in a mosaic, ripping it from the wall. Killing her had taken more energy than Jimmy had been willing to spare, but the satisfaction of her screams had been payment enough.
In an instant it seemed the stranger was at his altar, staring down at it like he had no idea what it was for, which he might actually not. One of his hands reached for the delicate golden bars of the birdcage, and Jimmy was then behind him, ready to strike him down if he did something wrong, if he touched a gods sacred object he must die - but his hand moved away from the cage and instead moved to the thick blanket of vines covering the wall behind the altar.
The mortal reached towards his belt, drawing a dagger and lifting it to one corner of the section of vines, and Jimmy realized how little this mortal had- the clothes on his back, a dagger, a couple knicknacks, a small drawstring bag hanging from his belt… and nothing else. Why was he here? How had he gotten this far away from any bastions of civilization with that injury? And more importantly, why hadn’t Jimmy driven him out of the temple yet?
The stranger began sawing against one of the thicker vines, and after snapping it, moved and did the same on the other side, if at an odd angle as to not upset his wound more. After the two thickest vines were cut, he sank his fingers into the greenery, and before Jimmy could figure out what he was doing, pulled.
The curtain of plant matter came away with just a couple tugs, and the mortal carefully balled it up before lifting it over the altar, careful not to disturb any of the artifacts. Behind the vines, another painting was revealed. The artistry was beautiful, and it looked almost like this mural was glowing. It depicted a blonde haired male, eyes closed, wearing a sky blue cloak with the hood pulled over his head. His arms were spread to either side of him, his left hand holding a long, ornate scythe, the right holding a cage with a small yellow bird barely visible inside. Behind the man, two large golden wings were spread.
Jimmy remembered when that painting had been done, by a local artist as a gift for him and his temple. He had been so elated, he blessed that women’s entire line of daughters to have the skills to rival the god of art. Sometimes he wondered what happened to that familial line. Did they still remember his gift? Had they been killed when the gods had scattered?
The man was staring at the mural, eyes wide, as if he understood what this place was now. Good. Jimmy wanted him to leave.
Instead of turning around and walking out of the temple, like Jimmy was silently screaming at him to, the man… knelt.
He knelt. He bowed his head in reverence, and quickly opened the coin pouch on his belt, pulling off a couple of the items hanging from it as well, dumping the contents into his palm and placing them reverently onto the altar.
A shard of amethyst, light purple and cloudy on the inside.
A small, almost stunted sunflower, the stem slashed and the leaves curling in on themselves.
A goat horn, bloody fur still around the wide edge, a hole bored on the small end.
A few coins stamped with a seal he didn’t recognize, in the shape of a hound, the silver and copper clinking together musically.
A piece of threadbare green fabric, unwrapped to reveal a small sea shell, rubbed completely smooth from a person’s worry and the relentless waves before it.
A pure, golden feather, as if it had been plucked from the canary just moments before.
It was an offering.
An offering, from a mortal, after all this time.
Jimmy was close to shrieking with joy, before the stranger spoke- no, he prayed . His voice was smooth, oddly sure of itself, even though it shook a bit, with the influx of his breathing. The wound had begun oozing blood even slower- either it was healing, or the man was running out of blood to lose. Jimmy had a sinking feeling it was the latter.
“Please, hear my prayer. Take my life, and bring back Ren Lupis, king of Dogwarts. He did not deserve to die.” The mortal's breath was running even more ragged, and he was swaying slightly on his knees. Jimmy held his breath, desperately hoping he would finish his prayer- if not for the stranger's own sake, then for his own. It was selfish. By the Watchers, he didn't care anymore.
“He was a good man, a better friend, and a great king, and I failed him.” The man hesitated a second more, before adding, “If you truly can not bring him back, at least give me the strength to find his killer and avenge him. He deserves it.” His voice was trailing off, and he sounded barely awake, as if on the verge of joining the friend he spoke off.
“Take my life. Take my life, and give it to Ren.” His eyes fluttered shut, and he nearly fell forward, catching himself with his hands, now in a proper bowing position. “Please…”
As he sat back up, he stared with glassy eyes at the mural above him. “Canariul. Please.”
And the mortal finally collapsed, a proper sprawl this time, and Jimmy felt a shockwave of power course through him.
In truth, the meager offering and the half lucid prayer didn’t have much power in them, but to a starving man, a single loaf of bread will be more than enough. Besides, names have power- and after all this time, it was
delicious
to be recognized for who he was. For what he was.
The energy running through him, almost alien after all this time, reminded Jimmy of his time as a child- or the closest thing to a child that a god could be. Running through the halls and courtyards of the Pantheon Palace, shrieking with laughter as he and his brother passed each other balls of energy. Sniffling as he hid behind the purple robes of one of the caretakers who silently watched over them, its eyes all focused on the young storm god standing before it, beaming a lecture directly into his mind. He remembered the pain of his pinched wings, and later on, of friendly wounds, as the storm god grinned, as the sun god laughed, as he was pulled in closer by his friends, knuckles grinding into his skull as the sheer joy of them all being together nearly choked him.
He was slightly saddened, after the flow of fresh power was cut off, to find himself still standing alone in the altar room of his forgotten temple.
Alone, of course, except for the crumpled form of the mortal before him, chest echoing with a death rattle. Jimmy watched him for a couple of seconds, considering what to do. He could let this man die, and just take the power he had given him, that this man had prayed into existence for him.
Another fragment of himself captured a soul- a canary, suffocated in a mine, having never known the sunlight or wind in its wings, its death an omen of more to come- and a shock of pain, much less than before, traced up his spine. He shivered, his wings fluffing subconsciously.
Well, it couldn’t hurt to just grant this mortal's wish. And while he couldn’t bring mortals back from the dead- that would break the system- he could grant him the strength he had asked for. The first step of strength, of course, was healing. And healing took time.
Jimmy let a smile rise across his face, and willed his form to solidify, kneeling next to the man and gently lifting him into his arms. With a snap of his fingers, a small box of medical supplies appeared next to him, and golden lanterns appeared hovering in the air, lighting the room. If he appealed to this man and looked after him for long enough, he could get more prayers… or even a follower. It had been so long, and while he would definitely break the conduct between gods and prayer-givers by staying this close, it could surely be excused- if anyone was still monitoring that type of thing, which he was sure no one was.
It isn’t everyday you get your second chance, after all.