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The world is a cruel, unforgiving place. It is full of evil, and pain, and strife. Full of subjugation and horror.
One of these horrors stands before him. Towering, horrific, and ugly. This bug-god thing he'd been thrown to serve.
A pitiful attempt from his village to save themselves.
Now he's here, waiting hand and foot on this God, his life stolen by selfish, evil men.
It's not that the ancient diety is bad to him, no. In fact, against all odds, the being was…good to him.
Or at least, as good as a God can be to a mortal.
It treated him more like a guest, than a servant. Which was highly unusual, but Mason was of course grateful for it.
However, even if the God was good, that did not change that fact that Mason was trapped and betrayed by those who were supposed to love and protect him.
"Human." The sudden call snapped him out of his thoughts, and he paused.
"…yes? My lord?" He added on the last part quickly. A kind God was still a God, after all, and upsetting a God was a death wish. Especially if you were Mason. The tempers of Gods were not to be trifled with. He'd heard all the stories before, and he would not make the same mistakes.
The bug-god frowned at him, as much as a bug could frown. "…Human." It said, it's disapproving voice so grating Mason had to expel all his energy to keep from covering his ears. "You are distracted." The God moved towards him, but Mason sighed and went back to pulling the bags in his hands, full of rotten offerings the deity never ate, to the temple doors.
"I…apologize, my lord." He said, adjusting his grip on the bags. "I will be more present, moving forward." That did not seem to be the answer the deity wanted, but it did not push, and allowed Mason to continue his journey to the outside.
The bags were heavy and cumbersome, as the God was picky. It was given all this food, so delicious Mason drooled thinking about it, and didn't eat any of it. It was so wasteful.
Mason would've killed to have some of this food. He almost had, once.
He didn't, of course, but he had gotten close. Gotten close to stealing an offering, too, back before he was sacrificed. When he worked at the villages temple.
Though that life was long gone, now.
Mason finally made it outside. He looked briefly down the mountainside, into the forest that lay ahead. He moved his gaze quickly, of course.
He'd long since learned that looking at a freedom he'd never have only depressed him. Made him mouthy, disrespectful.
…He didn't need a repeat of last time.
His gaze moved quickly to the large pile of bags, growing and growing outside of the temple.
All of these wasted offerings. All of these unanswered prayers, all of these pleas unheard.
It was disheartening. All those people, waiting desperately for their prayers to be answered. For their harvests, for their lives…
For their health.
Mason wondered how many of these offerings came from now dead men. Men who lost their lives, their only crime being trying to save themselves.
When he couldn't keep pondering any longer, he threw the newest additions into the pile and went back inside.
Ptolemy, the god – which was a name it insisted Mason used for them, which of course, he didn't – waved him over, a large inhuman smile upon it's face, and Mason has to bite his lip hard enough to taste metal just to keep from rolling his eyes at the expression.
Of course, he goes. He does what he's told, after all. He doesn't have a choice. If he did, he'd already be far down the mountain by now, the only indication he'd ever been in the temple his faint scent in the wind.
The bug god does not ask him to pour it wine or serve it food, like it usually does. Instead it wraps it's bug torso around Masons body, trapping him in.
"Stay with me." It says, and Mason nods. He has no choice.
"Yes, my lord." Mason says it quietly, and refuses to look the God in the eye, just as he's been taught to.
Just as the God expects it.
Just as he is destined to do, for the rest of his miserable life.