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For a moment, Drift is weightless.
Then, after what feels simultaneously like an eternity and a fraction of a second, she is standing in a wheat field.
Grain tickles her ankles as she turns gradually in a slow circle, and a gasp escapes her lips. Golden fields stretch out as far as her eyes can see. Overhead, the sun is beginning to set over the distant horizon, bathing the sky in hues of rose-golds and deep oranges that swirl in hypnotic, enrapturing patterns. A mild breeze blows past; it feels like a caress, like a hug, like a quiet welcome back whispered into her ear after years spent far away from home.
She starts to walk. The wheat is as high as her waist, and some shoot up even higher, but they all bend as she carefully treads a path amongst them. It's hard to tell how long she spends walking. The sun sets eventually. The sky fades not to an inky black, but to a rich and vivid purple, vibrant stars beaming clearly down at her. She has never been very good with constellations. She supposes she has an eternity to map them out.
After an indeterminate amount of time (time feels somewhat like an abstract concept out here, all on her own), she stumbles upon a cottage. A quaint and idyllic building, sitting squat in the middle of the wheat field, with a gravel path leading up to the door and potted plants on either side. From what she can tell, there is nobody inside.
It is hers. She doesn't understand how she knows that aside from a deep feeling from within her that sings with joy as she approaches it. Gravel crunches under her feet. Distantly, birds chirp and tweet in a simple melody.
She is dead, and now she is here. Before she steps inside, she looks back at the fields, at the wheat that stretches out in every direction, and a soft frown settles on her face.
It's awful lonely out here.
When Shelby appears in the fields, there is a cottage waiting for her.
The anguished faces of her closest friends are imprinted on the backs of her eyelids, but for once, she is seeing things again. Stalks of wheat surround her. They brush against her as she walks towards the cottage, plumes of steam rising out from the chimney sticking out of its roof. So cute! There are potted plants outside the door with colourful flowers merrily growing within them. Her fingers brush over their soft petals. She smiles.
Shelby raises her hand to knock. The cottage feels like hers, but it's already occupied. How odd. Is that odd? She doesn't know. A giddy feeling swells in her chest.
"Coming!" She doesn't even tap her knuckles against the wood before the door swings inwards and-
"Drift?" Shelby surges forwards and wraps her arms tightly around Drift's waist, squeezing her tightly. Drift. Drift is here. Her eyes start stinging and she pulls back, cupping Drift's cheeks with her hands, committing the feeling of her skin to memory, and gazing deeply into those sunset eyes that she adores. She has only seen them once before. Now, she can look at them as much as she wants.
"You're here," Drift whispers. Her voice is soft, as if she's afraid that speaking too loudly will shatter the illusion. "You- you died."
"We died within minutes of each other, apparently."
"Did you die happily?"
Shelby thinks back to the faces of her friends: Scott's fluffy, cloud-like hair, the way he clutched Shelby's hand tightly, afraid to let her go; Cleo's horns, adorned with pretty ribbons, orange hair tumbling over her shoulders, the way her shoulders had shaken as her eyes grew glassy with tears. She'll see them again soon. She'll see them, and Nobody, and Abolish, and Nikos, and all the others.
"Yeah," She says. "I did. Do you mind if I come in?"
Scott steps out across the stage, and he delivers his tale.
These people will listen. They will care about what he has to say. Dionysus sits alone in the crowd, and tips a chalice of wine in his direction, smiling languidly. Scott can't muster the same confidence, but he returns the smile. For the first time in a while, his knees shake a little as he performs. He hasn't felt stage fright in years!
At the end of the story, a gust of wind blows around his head, then out into the crowd; Scott follows it with his eyes, finding a head of dark red hair, and a familiar brown braid.
He rushes off the stage towards the two figures. It doesn't matter what these people may think, not when two of the most important people in his life are there waiting for him, smiling with eyes glistening with tears.
Scott sweeps them up into his arms, with a little help from a gale, and laughs as he spins them around. When he sets them down on the ground, he pulls them in close for a hug.
"I hoped I'd find the two of you eventually." He whispers.
"It took you long enough," Drift grumbles, then laughs, patting her hand against his back. "Just kidding. It's nice to see you again."
It's an understatement; both of them know that. Scott takes a step back, and all of the nerves from earlier crash into him once more. "How- how have you two been? Has Elysium been treating you well?"
"Actually, we were going to ask you something," Shelby says, and Scott momentarily braces himself for crushing disappointment, "Do you wanna come live with us? We have this cottage in the middle of a field, it's super cute-"
"Totally! And there's this river nearby, and sunsets there are absolutely gorgeous, let me tell ya-"
"And you don't have to, if you don't want to, but it might be nice-"
"Yes," He interrupts, breathless. "Absolutely. I'd love to live with you guys." He's just got them back again. The grief of their deaths is an open wound, not given time to heal, but nobody was given time to process anything back there. Scott has missed them wholeheartedly. Spending time with them sounds perfect.
When Scott isn't hanging out with Dionysus (or hanging out, as Drift and Shelby tease with wiggling eyebrows and exaggerated winks, to which Scott blushes immensely and chastises them, saying that he doesn't kiss and tell, but that Dionysus makes for very good company, if they get what he means), he's out gardening. The cottage not only has a beautiful river now, but it also has an equally beautiful, thriving garden to go with it. It is fenced off around the back, and all sorts of things grow there: hydrangeas, daisies, tulips, roses, ivy, fruits, vegetables. Currently, Scott is endeavouring to establish an apple orchard, as well as a means of growing grapes, so they can eventually produce their own wine.
It is in the middle of this garden where Cleo eventually finds herself.
The walk was arduous. Her feet sting with every step she takes, her legs feel weak, but she doesn't stop. She's not at the Styx anymore, she's not in Tartarus, much to her surprise, she is here. Wherever that is.
Not long later, there are twin shouts from within the cottage attached to the garden, and three bodies rush out. Red hair, brown hair in a braid, and white, fluffy hair flowing freely. The world around her immediately seems a tiny bit brighter as soon as they step into view.
Cleo is tackled to the ground.
Instinct kicks in, and she is kicking her legs up into the stomach of her attacker, pushing them off of her body and clambering to her feet-
"Cleo, wait! It's us!" Drift's voice (Drift?) reaches her, and she freezes with shock.
"You made it to Elysium," Scott, clutching his stomach, tells her with a smile. His hair is bright again, she notes. That's- that's good, probably. He's had time to heal.
When they crash into her again, she doesn't attack, nor does she fall down. Drift buries her face in her chest and hugs her tight, Shelby tucks herself against Cleo's side, and Scott hangs back, giving them space, yet sharing a knowing look.
They pull back. Cleo clears her throat. "How many of us are here?"
"Until you, it was just the three of us." Before Cleo can ask, Shelby continues. "We don't- we haven't seen Nikos, wherever he is. But we'll be waiting for him if- when he comes here. We're trying to make wine the way he used to, so we can surprise him with it when he arrives."
Scott chuckles. "It tastes awful. Not the same awful as the ones he made, but I'm getting close! Just need to figure out what kind of berries he used, and I think I'll be all set."
If they need help with berries... "I can probably help with that." Cleo taps her foot against the ground, and berry bushes spiral out around her and her friends, ripe and glowing in the midday sun.
Placing his hands on his hips, Scott nods with approval. He picks one of the berries off of a nearby bush and pops it into his mouth. "These will work nicely."
"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Shelby asks her.
"I just got here."
"Well, that means you can stay with us!" Drift exclaims cheerfully. "Unless you have somewhere else to go? Which is fine! But, um. You'll always have a place here if you need it."
She doesn't have anywhere else to go, not that she'd want to go anywhere else. Cleo steps forward. "Staying here sounds lovely."
Nobody and Abolish, despite not dying at the same time, appear outside the cottage simultaneously.
They are also simultaneously ambushed by a swarm of their allies. Scott has his arm around Abolish's shoulder as he guides him towards the garden, where a seating area has been erected, and Nobody is towed over there by Drift, the two of them talking excitedly with their heads pressed together. Wine is poured out, and not long later, they abandon the seating altogether and settle together on the grass.
"Do you know who won?" Cleo asks.
Nobody shakes his head. Abolish answers, "Either Apo, Owen or Pyro. I don't know which one, though."
The answer doesn't satisfy Cleo, but she nods, and the topic is dropped.
A copse of trees appears near the cottage the next day. Nobody disappears into them, and occasionally he returns with dead game and bundles of scavenged herbs and berries as gifts. Out in the middle of the copse is a small cabin, homey and quiet, and all of them visit it at least once. Some nights, they all go out to the cabin and gather around a fire, sharing glasses of terrible wine and equally terrible stories.
Abolish sets up a forge. He doesn't need to fight - and what a novelty that is, fighting constantly in life, being brought back from the Styx for the express purpose of fighting, yet only now he no longer needs to engage in bloodshed - but when asked, he claims that, "It'll be nice, to make things that aren't weapons."
He makes gardening tools for Scott and Cleo, intricate details of clouds and thorns into the metalwork that brings a smile to their faces. He leans to make jewellery, and gifts a few pieces to the others - earrings with clouds for Scott, a gold chain necklace with a sun pendant for Drift, a bracelet for Nobody with a symbol of a boar's head, an anklet for Cleo designed to resemble a daisy chain, and a ring for Shelby with a carved coin in it.
Sometimes, he forges a sword, or an axe, or a helmet. Sometimes, when the others look out the window, they will see Abolish out in the fields, practising his skills against a training dummy. Sometimes one of them goes out to join him; most often, it is Scott and Cleo, although Nobody drops by periodically for a scrap.
They all get accustomed to their new existence.
A man appears in the middle of a field of wheat. He looks around, disoriented and aching all over, the glare of the sun harsh and blinding, forcing him to squint his eyes.
In the distance, there is a cottage. A gravel path leads up to a door painted a golden yellow. Steam rises out of a chimney. There is a garden nearby with a variety of plants, and the wind smells strongly of wine. His wine, to be specific. Not too far from the cottage is a river that connects to a small copse of trees and, on the other side of the cottage, a forge.
All of it prickles his memory. His feet carry him forwards as his mind races, piecing together what is in front of him, why it is all so familiar, why his entire body aches-
The door opens. Two people stand there, staring at him.
"Nikos?"
Nikos. Yes, that's him. And that means that these people are-
"Pretty ones," He says, boisterous and loud and wholly unable to stop himself from smiling.
Scott is wearing simpler clothes, still in shades of blue and white and gold, but he also wears a pair of thick gloves over his hands. There's dirt staining his clothes. He has new earrings, too, golden clouds, and they tinkle softly as he moves his head.
Cleo looks mostly the same, but an anklet catches his eye, one that resembles a chain of interwoven flowers. There's a small crown of flowers on her head, too, rudimentary in design but clearly made with love.
He stares at them, and they stare at him, and for a moment, nobody moves.
That is until Nobody moves, deciding to crash into him with a joyous cry. "We were wondering when you'd show up!" He yells.
Scott and Cleo rush out of the house, calling out names, and even more people swarm him, all of them clinging onto his body tightly. The only person who doesn't is Abolish, but even he places a hand over Nikos's shoulder.
It is hard to hug so many people at once. Nikos still gives it a damn good go.
"We have a lot to tell you," Scott says.
"And a lot to show you." Cleo adds, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.
"Yes, that too."
They all guide Nikos towards the garden amidst a calming cacophony of chatter, and a glass of wine is thrust into his hands. Scott watches with keen eyes as he takes a sip, and his eyes widen slightly at the taste.
"I tried to make it the way you did." He confesses softly.
Nikos grabs his hand and squeezes it. "Thank you."
Nikos gets his own piece of jewellery in the end: a necklace with the sun and moon, and a lightning bolt between them.
Out in the middle of the fields of Elysium, there is a cottage.
And a river.
And a forge.
And a small copse of trees which, bizarrely, never seems to run out of game to hunt.
There is a garden, an orchard, and a vineyard, too.
There is a small patch of land with a circle drawn into the dirt, racks of weapons, and a beaten-up dummy stuffed with straw.
Most importantly, there are people who live out there. Lovers, fighters, and people somewhere in-between. Some spend their time with gods, some play in the river, some disappear for days on end.
Although their wishes were not granted, although the gods still roam, nobody else will fight the same way that they had to.
Finally, they have peace.