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This is his thirtieth attempt.
His thirtieth attempt to die, surrounded by opulence.
Seawatt isn't sure why he's counting. It's not as if it matters.
The knife sits heavy in his hand, warmth radiating from it as if it had just been pulled from the blacksmiths flame. His blood is everywhere. falling in rivers down his chest, covering the blade like a sleeve. The red touches every bit of gold, every coin and every thread of his sheets. The weapon in his hands is opulent, the handle made of gold, carved to look like the coiled body of a snake. Blood is seeping into each of the little crevices, into the dips between each section of the snakes twisted body. It's a beautiful sight. It's something Seawatt would've relished to have, before he died.
He isn't sure why Evbo gave the knife to him, when he asked. Evbo is naive, and he is hopeful, and he is trusting, but he is not stupid.
…Perhaps hes finally given up.
Seawatt knows, even as his vision blurs, that he hasn't. Evbo never gives up.
It's why Seawatt loved him, after all.
Evbo is holding him tightly, now, scolding him. As always, he left for only a moment. Never leaving Seawatt to breathe. Suffocating him. Lightly, with a soft smile,but still scolding nonetheless. Seawatt looks away. That smile is ruined for him now, where it used to be the sun in his sky. Even if the him that existed then would've never admitted it.
Evbo seemed to notice that Seawatt isn't paying attention, though he never is. Still, Evbos brows furrow, and a frown finds it's way onto his face. Seawatt can see it, from the corner of his eye,
"Why do you keep doing this, Seawatt?" Evbo is asking, as if he doesn't already know. Seawatt doesn't even dignify that with a response.
As his silence always seems to do nowadays, Evbo only gets more anxious, his voice on the edge of trembling. "Aren't you happy?" Evbo starts shaking him lightly, his voice growing with desperation every second.
"Why aren't you happy?" Seawatt doesn't respond, although Evbos voice is so frantic it may as well be shouting.
The calm is sudden. It always is.
"Do you want another gift? Is that what this is about?" The desperation hasn't faded, only the anxiousness. Evbo laughs, the sound weak and tired, as if Seawatt is throwing a fit.
As if this is truly about gifts.
"If you wanted more gifts, you only needed to say so." Evbo takes the knife carefully from Seawatts hand, and looks at him expectantly. When Seawatt, of course, doesn't respond, the mask cracks. Self awareness finally seems to find and take hold of the God, even if only for a moment.
"Seawatt, please." The god says, his voice quiet and small. "Why won't you talk to me?" Evbo wraps his arms around Seawatts waist, holding him softly. As if Seawatt could break from a breath.
It was so soon, too soon, after Evbo had stolen him, and Seawatts nerves were still alight. Still new, still adjusting to differentiating the soft and the harsh. His entire body trembled, and the tears began to flow all on their own. Evbos hand immediately came to clutch at his face, turning it so Seawatt could finally see him, and frantically wiping the tears away. As if he couldn't stand to see Seawatt cry.
Evbos voice, usually so loud and boisterous and cheerful, was so small and quiet now Seawatt could barely hear him. Mumbling "Please don't cry, I can't stand when you cry…" Over and over.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't cry." Evbo's words tumbled out of his mouth, inhibition giving way to desperation. Desperation giving way to obsession. "I had to, please understand, you have to understand, I had to. I can't live without you, I had to.."
Evbo continued mumbling to him, holding Seawatt close and rocking to and fro, suffocating him. Keeping Seawatt for what felt like hours in this timeless place.
Stuck in a gilded cage draped in blood. Trapped in the arms of one given too much power. Too much influence.
Held in the grubby hand of a toddler not taught to respect the humanity in all things before ascending from its shackles.
Seawatt eventually died. Going long cold for hours in Evbos arms before the Geod even noticed he was gone. Evbo, of course, brought him back. His soul was a restless spirit, now. He could hardly see the entrance to the afterlife anymore, and it seemed to be getting farther and farther from his reach every time he perished.
He couldn't blame it. The afterlife was not meant to be breached by overeager gods.
But now, he sat on a throne, and Evbo brought him gifts. As if sorries were somehow not enough. He made Seawatts room so 'beautiful', as he said. Covered it in gold and red and purple. All the colors Seawatt used to find solace in.
He never let Seawatt go. Never let him smell the outside, never let him parkour or even let him leave his room, although that last one was mostly Seawatts choice. Why ever leave this room, if he could not flee his cage?
So Evbo never let him go, but he brought entertainment. It was a desperate bid to get a reaction out of Seawatt, he could tell. Laughter, Anger, Sorrow. Anything at all. Evbo called for someone, anyone, to get a rise out of Seawatt. A twitch of his lips, a shine in his eye.
Droves came to the gods door, desperate to please his beloved and be handsomely rewarded for their success. Seawatt saw it all. Parkour plays, poetry, comedy, music, dance. It was the best Parkour civilization had to offer.
It was all beautiful, yet Seawatt reacted to none of it.
His expression did not change, even when Evbo began to send everyone who failed down a level. Even when he saw the desperation on their faces. None of it even made his eye twitch.
Evbo gave up on that eventually, although people did not stop coming. ]
The god turned his attention, offering Seawatt spread after spread of delicious food, things even a man like Seawatt, as successful as he once was, could only dream of. It looked appetizing. Smelled wonderful, and yet…
Seawatt couldn't bring himself to eat any of it. He didn't eat. Didn't even move. Didn't react when Evbo piled his plate high with delicacy. Evbo begged him. Pleaded with him to eat, even just a singular bite.
Yet he still did not eat.
How could he eat now? He had never needed to eat when he was dead. He had finally had the life he never knew he wanted. And every piece of food only reminded him of what had been stolen from him.
He didn't eat, and Evbo eventually gave up on that, too. Now, Evbo spent hours kneeling at Seawatts feet, a god praising a mortal, apology like prayer on his lips.
Seawatt didn't respond. He couldn't. It was a strange feeling, this apathy. This was, after all, everything he had ever wanted before.
To be worshiped.
To be praised.
To be loved.
But now that he knew what he could have, now that he knew what he truly wanted, what he truly had…
This wasn't enough.
It never would be. Evbo would never be enough.
Not his praise.
Not his worship.
Not his prayer.
And especially not his 'love'.
So like before, like the same divine beings he had mocked and shook his fist at in the past, Seawatt looked down upon his adoring follower…
And said not one word.