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The route they took was the same it had been for the past 12 years, save the groove their cart had worn into it. It was funny how something they remember being so daunting had become a part of their life so quickly...and just how fast the time had flown by.
This time, there were no deliveries to be made, no orders to fulfill, and no events to prepare for.
Well… Save one.
…But they were not the one organizing it this time, it seemed. Instead, they were the one being celebrated.
There wasn't much they could do to refuse it; it would have been an awful shame to tell the folks in the Grove to pack up all the decorations and fancy dishware, but it still made them feel…
Strange.
They knew that they had earned some recognition, maybe to some degree…but Godhood felt like a bit much.
Anybody could ordain a wedding. Anyone could organize a funeral. Anybody could be stuck delivering a baby, could grow flowers and give gifts.
Anybody could move to the Grove, fall in love, and never want to leave.
And that's what they had done! Surely, there was nothing special about that.
…But apparently, there was. Something was special about those weddings, those visits to the Gods and those respects paid to the graves.
“After King's ascension,” Lady Mitternacht had told them, “People were ashamed. They had assumed that we Gods were above building relationships with our mortal followers.”
She had twirled one of the many offerings Hickory had given her, a bouquet of white lilies, between her fingers.
“But you bridged that gap…no longer untouchable. A community.”
There was a twinkle in her eye, then. Concerning what, they could guess.
Indeed, Community was a big reason why Hickory had been brave enough to step from their grandparents' mortuary. She had been a surprise; a warm sunbeam after a cold, cruel winter of failed first dates.
Truly, they had expected to never find love again until meeting Her. She was brave…smart as a fox, silly and forgiving and confident where they were not. A breath of fresh air, a soothing voice that crackled with laughter and calmed their worries after years of heartbreak.
They had learned of the decades preceding their arrival; just how lonely She had been. It was no question that there needed to be attempts made to prevent it from happening again, to any one of the many gods that speckled the Grove. After all, they were human once; It seemed cruel to deprive them of one of the most central human needs of all, basic social interaction.
And so they had started growing flowers for things other than funerals. Offerings. Gifts. Things anybody would like to receive.
They would push their wagon daily, through BuzzHuzz from their greenhouse, all the way down to the Cove, selling flowers for cheap, offering them to the Gods. Encouraging their people to visit. To stop in. To say hello.
And it only grew from there. Funerals were not abundant, they had found, and were a failing business… But holidays? Weddings? There were always people in love, always people paying respects or showing that they cared about one another in some capacity.
They got their license as an ordained minister. They were recognized as a notary. They were trusted with finalizing wills, organizing days of remembrance, observation, and mourning.
Things that allowed them to serve the Grove better, to serve the Grove more.
To serve the Community. All to see Her smile.
…And along the way, they felt themself smiling, too.
It didn't matter if the smile they wore wasn't the same one they had been born with. It had become theirs, shared with Her.
Their cart pulled into Mildread, the worn handles gently set down upon the earth as they parked in the square. The old baker, strong and dusted with flour, approached, a penny already held out in their palm for a few flowers, most likely for their beloveds despite the allergies that afflicted them every single time they leaned in to smell.
Hickory waved off the price; all of their wares had to go by the end of the week, after all. Where they were going, it wasn't likely they would need it.
While the cart was being perused, they straightened, their aging spine softly popping under their hands as they shuffled their way to the schoolhouse.
Class was not to be in session until the Rift celebration had ended. There was too much excitement to learn, it seemed, and too many preparations to make.
It was always left open nowadays. Mildread had much to make up for in the decades that followed the near disaster at the Spire, and Her people had been sure to make it so that She never felt neglected again.
…Of course, the role Hickory played in that was widely recognized as well. Their relationship was no secret, especially after so long. It had made them weary of their election, at first…the fear of nepotism skewing results further trying to convince them that the Grove had made a mistake somehow.
Her field was warm despite the outside autumn chill, a perpetual sunset spilled over waving grain. There was no need for words; She knew exactly who they were the moment they arrived, Her leaves blooming open with eagerness. Thorned vines gently wove around their legs in greeting, prickling at their skirt and tugging them forward.
Their reunion was sweet. A teasing kiss atop their head, a loving hand placed up on Her cheek. There was enough time allotted in the day that they could usually spend a sizable break here. With the week drawing to a close of their mortality, they supposed keeping a schedule wasn't as important now as it had been.
They were settled in the crook of Her neck, hidden by Her leaves and cushioned by Her whiskery fluff. The sun was not as bright here: the color of the autumn light filtering through Cobigail's yellowing leaves. From their position, the both of them could rest and converse easily, the breeze and crickets muffled by their partner's collar.
“Are you excited?” She hummed, eyes lazily closing as She nuzzled into Hickory. “Soon we'll have all the time in the world to do this.”
“Not all the time in the world,” they corrected, running a palm across her soft fuzz. “ I can't just coop up in here when people might need me, you know. I'll still have a job.”
“It'll be much easier for you to do, Sweet Pea. Won't have t’ drive that cart all day anymore. B’sides, King and Mitty often take worshippers together, I don't see why we couldn't.”
They had imagined becoming a God was much like getting a promotion to a job…at least, that was what they had assumed. Click Clack certainly took it as such with how they worked their little tail off.
“I don't know how intensive my domain will be yet…I don't want to let anybody down.”
A clawed finger carefully wove past the leaves to tip up their chin. “And you won't, darlin’. The Grove knows you'll need time to settle, too. You've helped em’ understand us with all your hard work…they'll know you deserve a break.”
…they supposed She was right. The Grove had largely been taking this celebration on themselves; gently shooing them away with smiles and winks and waves.
Still…they were nervous. Their whole life they had dealt with changes that had been out of their control. Their career. Their love life, their face…
They had the choice to take up the mantle, sure… but what that mantle did to them…well…
They were afraid to look in the mirror afterwards, only to have lost it all again.
“I promise. It'll be okay, sugar. You've got a whole Community to lean on,” her body rustled with the wind. “And I won't leave you. In sickness and in health is the saying, right? I don't intend t’ break it.”
It passed by in a blur. They were still busy, despite having no hand in organizing the Rift festival. Many of their things could not follow them into Godhood, so there was a matter of rehoming much of what they owned.
The mortuary in BuzzHuzz largely went unused. People simply didn't die as often in the Grove, living up to an astonishing 150 years at best. How, they weren't exactly sure; but their grandparents had gone by now, one of the few services they completed over the years.
Given tearing it down was an option they didn't want to take, they turned to Bauhauzzo and Huzzle Mug, the overseers of the settlement, to discuss ideas.
“Are you prettysures your homedoor knick-knocker won't be there?” The bird-like God had asked, lounging and kicking its feet idly in the Bauspace around it.
“I'm…pretty sure? I never spent much time there…and I don't feel particularly connected to it…” Where they'd end up was becoming a guessing game. BuzzHuzz was a good guess, but since traveling the Grove had been their job for so long, it was a roulette of where the Rift would put them.
“A good point, yes.” Bau had said, palming at his chin. “You may not land in BuzzHuzz at all…even though Huzzle and I would be certainly glad to have you.”
“Indeedy!” It had crowed, squinting at the godpoke-to-be with barely concealed mirth. “A new realm all cotton-red-cozy between mine and Bau-bau’s!”
Acknowledging it made them shiver, and they clutched their jacket over their sweater a little bit tighter.
“…Can't it just be…made into something? Something for the community to use? The greenhouse is there too, I really wouldn't want it to go to waste…”
Their greenhouse was something they had taken much pride in during their time in the Grove: housing flowers that bloomed all year round, various different types that meant myriads of different things. Many an hour had been spent taking care of the plants, talking, singing, dancing…whispered confessions and careless secrets fertilizing the soil.
Huzzle tipped its head, clicking its tongue.
“…your greenhouse could grow manyanythings, right? Not just flowers?”
“Well, yes…but I don’t have anything else in there, aside from a fruit tree.” Pomegranates. Tasty and tart and ripe in the autumn.
“Well, why can’t we grow more foodstuffs? Potatoes! Tomatoes! Yums for year-round?” It lowered its head to level at them. Hickory thought about it. They had dug up many of the flowers already and given them away across the Grove. A community garden didn’t seem bad at all…
“May I add,” Bauhauzzo interjected, “That the mortuary is clean, very well-kept indeed. Since the greenhouse is connected to it, It wouldn’t be much problem, no problem at all, to renovate it into a kitchen.”
“Now you’re thinking with gas, Bau-bau!” The God of Innovation cackled. A kitchen…renovated for meals all year round…open for anybody to sit down and have something to eat.
“I like that,” they said. It made them happy that the old place was going to get some use after all. Something that, even if they didn’t end up needing it anymore, still did some good for the people of the Grove.
It wasn’t until they were getting ready for bed that night that they couldn’t help but blush, realizing that yet again they had paid tribute to Her without noticing.
They supposed there wasn’t much to be done about it. She was about to be a constant for the rest of their immortal life…what was one more way to make Her smile?
The night before their ascension, they visited The God of Eloquence.
Water lapped against the boards of the Cove docks, reaching off into the distance before cascading down to the oceans below. Most had gone home for the night; the preparations for the Festival tomorrow complete and waiting for the morning.
Postal workers were slumped in chairs outside the mail booth, most likely exhausted from the influx of mail for the upcoming event. Just glancing over them, many were drainfolk. Since the previous Rift festival, they'd taken up the mantle left behind by the God of Eloquence, a proper office set up in each section of the Grove for incoming packages and letters. Often in their daily treks across the Grove, they'd wave to a battered old truck passing them on the way up, similarly making its rounds.
As for who ran the operation, it wasn't quite clear. King herself denied any authority over the system, claiming an ‘old friend’ had stepped up to lead its development.
Hickory had never met them in the decade they'd lived here, so they assumed that somewhere along the way they had passed on. It seemed like a touchy subject, and so they had never asked.
They crept past the sleeping employees, stepping over twitching tails. A familiar form was leaned against the doorway opening up into King's domain. Pokey, one of the only consistencies that had not changed over the years, also seemed to be resting, but it was hard to tell with their hat pulled over their eyes.
The god-to-be had observed just how timeless the other was. Cobigail had told them of their bravery in the past, but with 33 years gone by, they didn't look like a lick of it had touched them.
Why they hadn’t been elected baffled them. Everyone knew who they were, the work they put in, and the kindness they showed to all they met. Hickory themself still remembered the day that they'd been set up on the blind date that had changed everything.
Despite the fact they looked dead asleep, Hickory waved to them and the trusty Megapon on their hip, ducking underneath the short threshold and into the warm glow of King's home.
Their shoes creaked as they walked across old wooden floorboards, backlighting from the entryway stretching their shadow far in front of them. She was sitting on a stool, her back to a long, mahogany bar top. Where one would expect a shelf of spirits behind the bar was instead a full wall of cubby holes, each boasting a letter or three, a wax stamp pinning them shut. They recognized a bouquet of purple cowslip flowers stoppering an old wine bottle on the counter, flowers they had given away in the past day in preparation of their move.
King twirled a stem between her fingers.
“It’s a shame I never got into flower language. I heard it's one of the most beautiful in the world…so many different meanings, words with colors and plants…” The eyes on her veil slowly moved to meet Hickory’s. She gestured to a nearby sack of mail leant against the wall, offering them a seat. They nervously obliged, the give in the burlap enveloping their relatively small form.
“…Can you tell me what they mean?”
Her voice was gentle. Slow, as if coaxing a frightened horse. It reminded them of their first meetings with many of Cobigail’s family; enticing them with flowers and plants to pique their interest while sniffing under the metaphorical door.
They couldn’t resist.
“....Eternal, Divine Love.” They murmured. They reached up under their woolen cap, fiddling with a leaf of their wilting hair underneath. King nodded, humming lightly.
“A fitting gift from Missy, then. I suppose she’s done her own research without telling me…still full of surprises…” They could feel the fondness radiating from the god, her heart pumping in her chest to its own, ethereal beat.
“…She really is something special.” They agreed, moving to put their hands in their pockets instead. “Not everybody is so lucky to spend eternity with someone you love…I’m certainly more fortunate than most.”
King brought the stem of cowslip to her mouth beneath her veil, slipping it between her teeth.
“I wouldn’t say fortunate, exactly, in your case. You were voted in for a reason…just as all of us were. I don’t think you’re recognizing your own merit.”
“I know that…” They sighed, long and deep. “But…some part of me is still doubtful. How I could deserve the honor…how I’ll have to earn my keep to justify me being there…it’s a big pair of shoes to fill.”
King’s veil swished to the side as she tilted her head. “I think you’ll find the experience of ascension is much less about the work that you do, but more about what you represent.”
Hickory squinted, trying to parse through the statement. The God chuckled, swinging a leg over her knee and kicking her boot.
“We’re not all Storytelling Gods, Hickory. When you’re human, you can only recognize your role as a ‘Job’, an elected office to complete. Not too long ago I was where you are now, and while Missy told me what to expect, I still didn’t truly understand until I got here,” she waved her hands around her realm at the stacks of letters, each envelope hiding worlds of words inside.
“You become your idea…Love, Innovation, Memory, Eloquence…you are the product of your effort.”
Something about her explanation rang between their ears like a bell, the realization stark and alarming.
“But!” They heard themself blurting out, “I’m afraid to change…what if…what If I become something I don’t recognize?” Again?
“You will change,” King affirmed, closing her eyes as she chewed on her stem. “But you have before, and you will even if you choose not to ascend. What is important is that it's your choice now, not anybody else's. Not to mention,” her veil cracked a smile. “The Community you have behind you to remind you of who you are, should you need it.”
There was a long, drawn out pause as they processed the double meaning behind the statement.
“….King?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“.......and…”
“Mm?”
“…Why didn’t Pokey run in the election? I thought the Grove loved them.”
She removed the flower from her lips, her nose scrunched.
“Everyone loves Pokey, Hick.” She seemed almost exasperated, leaning her elbow on the bar top. “But right now? Apparently, they’re busy.”
It was their turn to raise an eyebrow. “Busy? With what?”
She snorted, annoyance not enough to cover up the fondness seeping into her tone.
“…they’re on vacation.”
They took their time getting ready that morning. Their favorite sweater. A dusty skirt. Their worn, dirt-caked boots, and their beloved satchel, still holding on to usefulness despite its old age and cracked leather.
Their last remaining flowers among an empty, gray greenhouse were cut, their garden trimmers delicately snipping each stem to an equal length. Thorns pricked their calloused hands as they deftly wrapped the bouquet in muslin cloth, tied with a blue ribbon around its middle.
It took longer than they had liked to admit to step out of that greenhouse. The glass had trapped more than just sunshine over the years; it had caught their tears, their warmth and their fears…all woven into a cycle that had nourished countless relationships with its spoils.
Maybe, wherever they were going would make it so that they could start again anew.
They locked the building up thoroughly, the key clutched into their palm so tightly that it left divots. Dropping it under the front mat for the inspector felt like a finality, even as they made for the Spire clawing into the sky.
Each step up the creaking stairs was a nail in a coffin of Hickory’s mortality. The burning Rift-light reminded them of falling asleep in their grandparents’ car after a long night with family, like traffic lights streaking past the windows. Each breath fogged up the glass over their eyes, the noise of chattering Gods akin to murmuring adults in the front of the vehicle.
They recalled King's words from the night previous.
I'm coming home, they thought.
I've packed up from a long, hard day at work. I've brought flowers for my lover, and I'm coming home.
The stairwell couldn't last forever. Eventually, their vision met the smooth, obsidian top of the Spire, the wind slapping against their cheek and nearly barreling them over. It was a warm wind despite the time of year, the Rift heating the air with its golden light. They clutched onto the bouquet tucked into the crook of their arm, shadowing their eyes with a hand as they approached.
The Gods filled the frame of the unearthly gap, Bauhauzzo comforting Huzzle Mug’s weak stomach, King and Mitternacht touching shoulders, and the Hobbyhoo gods’ voices rising above them all. They caught Thespius' attention first, his eyes filled with Mirth, Click Clack gripping tightly onto his hair as his head turned to greet them.
“Mon petit fleur! You made it!” He chuckled, arms wrapped around his beloved guitar. Click Clack ‘tsk’ed.
[ “Of course they did!” Our diminutive God exclaims, making a futile effort to fix the Love God’s waving locks. “ I told you not to worry!” ]
“Ah,” He shrank back a bit, shyly plucking a few strings. “I know, but…I couldn't help it…”
Bauhauzzo spoke up, still patting Huzzle's shoulder. “Considering the last Rift, there is some merit to worrying indeed.”
“And we all know you wear your heart on your sleeve, dearest.” Mitternacht added, smiling with her eyes. King craned her neck to peck her on the cheek, eliciting a giggle.
Despite all of them being present, Hickory could not see their partner among them. “Where’s Cobi?”
[ The other Gods have not seen their rustic friend in a few days, most likely due to the preparations she was rushing to finish before the closing of the Rift. Even now, the God of the Harvest was putting last minute touches on her presentation, not realizing how close she was cutting it to- ]
“On her way,” King assured, interrupting the small, rabbit-like God. Hickory shifted on their feet.
“Presentation?”
“I'M HERE! I'm here, tell me I didn't miss it-” It was at that moment that the woman of the hour appeared, Her wild hair tied back in an attempt at a messy ponytail, Her leaves bound with orange ribbon that waved in the whipping wind of the Rift.
She was as beautiful as always, despite the little changes. Hickory could feel their heart pattering in their chest as though they were meeting for the first time all over again. They stepped closer. Cobigail’s eyes fell to them far below, Her worry shifting into radiant sunshine as She smiled.
“Honeybee! Lookit you all fancied up for me!”
Hickory scoffed lightly, rolling their eyes. The both of them knew that they had done no such thing, but it was nice to pretend.
“You’re one to talk, Button. I see you’ve made yourself even prettier for me today. Wasn’t even sure that was possible.”
The God of the Harvest swooned, fanning Herself with a hand. Huzzle Mug groaned.
“Geezie-Louizee! Looks like Bau-bau and I can look ahead to even more ooey-gooey-sloppy lip-smackers...yuck! I thinksabout Huzzle’s gonna be more sick…”
“Oh shh, young love is a wonderful thing, yes it is,” Bauhauzzo comforted, rubbing a circle into its back.
Hickory held the bouquet they’d been carrying aloft. A soft gasp emitted from Cobigail as She plucked it from them. “For me?”
“It was all I had left…I saved it for you.” The last of their pride and joy, given there was no guarantee they would have the chance to garden again.
Thespius made a noise akin to a muffled squeal or scream, they couldn’t tell. Their lover glanced to the side and sighed.
“As much as I’d loveta’ wax poetic about it, I don’t quite think we have the time-” She coughed into Her fist. “Or the privacy…so shall we get this show on the road?”
Their heart skipped a beat and they nodded, glancing at Mitternacht. The God of the Midnight clasped her hands.
“Certainly dear, before we have a kerfuffle like the last time…”
Instead of moving front and center, like Hickory had expected, she moved aside, allowing for Cobigail to take her place. “Are you ready dear?”
“Yes Ma’am!” Cobigail responded, Her voice chipper. Once again, Hickory was confused. From what they’d heard, Mitternacht was the one to induct Gods into the pantheon. Before they could say as such, The God of Community opened Her palms to Her partner, Her claw-tips outstretched for them to climb onto. It was such a familiar gesture that they didn’t even hesitate, crawling atop Her hands and allowing themself to be lifted up.
“Hickory.” Their spine straightened at their name being spoken. Cobigail continued. “Do you promise t’ take all people under your wing? Will you forgive, and encourage forgiveness always?”
Hickory shuddered and nodded. The God before them took a deep breath.
“... Will you let me carry you, in cold and in warmth, and in turn carry me? Will you hold me in dark and light, in hunger and fullness, and in turn be held?”
They could feel her nervousness, her arms lightly trembling beneath them…and yet they were not afraid.
“Will you let me love you, no matter what famine or illness comes our way? Will you…build a Community, together, with me…as the God of Respects?”
It wasn’t the traditional question that they had heard once and never again, but somehow they Knew its weight and worth.
“…I…”
Backlit by the Rift, She was more beautiful than She had ever been before. The feeling seized up within them, drawing the pause out longer than they had intended.
“...Hickory?”
Her voice pushed them into motion. They gasped in a breath of fresh air.
“....y-yes…Cob…a million times, yes…forever, if time will allow it…”
Cobigail’s anxiety seemed to melt off of Her. One of Her hands drew up, a rose from Hickory’s bouquet pinched between Her fingers. They let Her tuck it behind their ear.
“Then…Join me, won’t you Sweetpea?”
She leaned forward, and they did as well, pressing their form against the bridge of Her nose with a tight hug. The Rift pulled at their clothing, their skin arching with invisible lightning that sprang across their nerve endings. In a surge of emotion, they raised their head, pressing a kiss at the spot between Her eyes, and suddenly-
Their form felt awfully tight; fire licking their boiling insides, threatening to burst. The pressure was immense, forcing their eyes open as they blindly reached for something familiar.
Cobigail was gone, and all was the Rift, its painful, burning light scorching its way through them, melting away all the unnecessary pieces of themself that weren’t needed for divinity. They could see ribbons of gold weaving above them in the sky, becoming clearer and clearer as they rose; tying people together, falling loose, fraying apart. So many ribbons, wrapping around the planet like a gift.
They tried to cover their eyes, to shut it out, but despite their efforts they could still see, as though it was all that was left burned beneath their eyelids. They could hear flames licking against their ears; Laughter, tears, cries and applause, Rites sealed between lovers, families, widows and widowers. They could see into every place of worship, every bedroom and grave and empty crib. They could see All Of It…they were All Of It. Present everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
The pressure burned brighter in their mind, unfurling further, growing taut until they felt something give way, like old rotting wood crumbling in a controlled burn. It spilled out, soaking up all the pain, the discomfort, blossoming like flower petals, until they felt nothing at all.
Quiet. Painless, calm, quiet. A relief. A fire dimmed to embers. A Candle lit in remembrance of the mortal they once were.
And so they rested, eyes closed, breathing to themself, their arms curled around their chest and middle, an attempt at comfort.
It took them a while to build the strength to open their eyes again. There was a small, warm and ambient glow that flickered at either side of their head, shifting as they looked around with blurry vision.
It was dim; shapes in the dark frustratingly close to being recognizable. Bare feet moved across a chilled, hard floor, stumbling with shifts in weight they weren’t familiar with. Closer inspection revealed clefts of carved stone on either side of their resting place; bereft of decoration or identifying structure.
Confusion settled over them like a blanket. The God of Rites did not hear anyone else around, nor did they feel an exit. The ache in their heart forced a word from their throat, begging for freedom from their loneliness. Their first as an immortal.
“Cobigail?”
It echoed against the old stone, bouncing off of the walls and away from them. There was no response, only silence.
Confusion flickered lightly into fear. The idea of spending an eternity alone was beginning to make itself known. They turned in a tight circle, hoping the sparse light they possessed was enough to show them a clue to how to escape.
From the corner of their vision, they finally found it. The tip of a root, burrowing down, down from the ceiling far above, curling into the cracks of the stone lining their eternal grave.
It didn’t take them long to trace more and more roots, all leading upwards, presumably above where they now dwelled. Hope began to burn once more as they reached up, fingers unfurling from a long, draping sleeve, and touched one of them, grasping as tightly as they dared.
They took a deep breath.
“…Button? Are you there?”
For a long pregnant moment, there was nothing.
The response was something they didn’t quite hear, but was as clear and loud as day. She had heard them, somehow, and she was coming, but she wasn’t sure where to look.
The God stared upwards at the ceiling, a relieved chuckle escaping them.
“Down, my love. Go down.”
There was a twinkle of mischief that flooded back to them across the golden strand, before the line grew taut. Slowly but surely, her presence flushed away the loneliness. She was traveling in the space between spaces. Still looking, but closer.
“Look for stone, Cobi. Stone and roots. I’m sorry, I can’t see much else down here.”
They were effectively shushed, no apologies needed. She was getting closer, startlingly so. Close enough to reach out and touch.
“Found you.~” There was a familiar, raspy voice bouncing through their walls. They smiled for her, relief making them weak in the knees. Thorned arms painlessly cradled them as they sank to the floor, the light from their shoulders barely illuminating Cobigail’s face as they were reunited once more.
“You gave me a scare there, pumpkin. Went up in flames right before my eyes…Momma had to keep me from tearin’ up the Spire searching…” Claws delicately brushed against what they assumed was their hair. It felt nice.
“Mm, it sure felt like I was on fire there for a minute,” They recalled, nuzzling their face into her chest. “But I'm happy you’re here now…wherever this is.”
“I think it’s supposed to be your realm,” Cobigail mused, continuing to stroke their head. “You weren’t joking. It is hard to see down here...”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“Not particularly…your realm is a part of you…maybe it's not finished yet?”
The God of Respects wrinkled their nose. “I hope that’s it. It would be awful to live in the dark all alone…”
“You won’t be alone, sweetpea. I promised, remember?” Her hand wedged itself under their chin, bringing their face to hers. Shadowed like this, there was a sharpness to her, dark and wicked. Hickory was unafraid.
They closed the gap, pressing their mouth against hers, eyes shut. Warmth spread between them, curled up in each other’s arms. It felt right…being at her side like this. There were many things to confront, their appearance, their role and realm, all things that came with ascension…but like this? It was easy to push to the back of their mind.
Light flickered behind their eyelids and Cobigail pulled away with a small gasp. Wondering if they had somehow gone too far, they blinked, taking in a new light source that bounced and waved across from the both of them.
It was a candle, its base melted enough so that it stuck to one of the stone shelves jutting from the wall. With its light, The Gods could see more shelves, lining a narrow space filled with alcoves big enough for coffins to fit inside.
“…A mausoleum…” They murmured in awe. A beautiful structure built to respect the dearly departed…a quiet and revered space. Though it was still quite dark, The newest God was already enraptured with the idea of their new home.
Their wandering eyes soon fell upon Cobigail, and they sputtered, embarrassed, as they realized she had been watching them the entire time. They covered their flustered face with their sleeves.
“Oh, don’t be shy, sugarpie…I’m glad you’re happy with it.” She hugged them closer. “And I’m happy that I can see you better…what a pretty little thing you are…though, I wish I had a liiiittle bit more light…”
Peeking out at her, Cobigail’s sly grin greeted them.
“Oh well…I suppose we’ll just have to make more, hm?”