Sleeping Deities

Chapter 4

At first, he stubbornly refused their lessons, hiding the limbs under the folds of his cloak, tucking them in and keeping them from ever seeing the light of day.

But with the wings came a loss of the grace from his movements, and the quiet ways in which he maneuvered through the world unseen. For the stupid things made him clumsy, for they jutted out and moved unexpectedly as he went about his day, for even the smallest twitch of his arm could make him stumble as the wings did the same, causing him to sprawl onto the ground sputtering a fountain of curses, forcing him to explain to the village people his story with an awkward smile, making note to never venture there again.

So of course eventually, he gave in.

Lessons in which the twin gods taught him each nerve, bone, and sinew in his newly found limbs; whether it be through the lightest brushes of the finger tracing paths of each and every feather, or the weight of agony as they wounded him, the pain echoing through his body like a thunderbolt, crushing him to his very core.

Lessons in which he was taught movement, through the way they trembled with music, each feather vibrating from the waves of sound with an astounding excitement that couldn't help but overtake him. Lessons in which they showed him how the same limbs trembled to the cold, through walks in the snow that nearly got him frost bitten, shivering in nothing but his summertime clothes. Lessons in which they taught him body language, aggravating him until the wings opened up instinctually and overshadowed them, or terrifying him to the point they refused to open up at all.

It made him feel like a child, being taught by children who didn't know what they were doing. It made him feel as though the increase of visits from yearly to monthly to weekly became just an excuse to torment him further than they already have, a way to make him the terrible creature that plagued their sleepless nights, that stood in the shadows with a blade, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

But he had to admit that the more time he spent with them, the less he began to see them as enemies.

What was once considered nothing more than torture to a man who'd never experienced hell had gradually become a life of warm smiles and playful banter. When once Phil gave the twins glares of distrust, he slowly began to find their company enjoyable, as he taught them the ways of his normalcy, as they had begun to teach him theirs.

There was a time when Techno would scoff at the sight of the sweat and effort put into the crop fields the wanderer had built for himself. There was a time he would have argued the use, for were they not inpermanent anyways? But after days of tending to the delicate seeds himself whilst being guided by Phil's expertise, the man found the god tending to the fields of potatoes with a spark in his eyes, a terrifying focus and determination that made the poor things grow bigger, faster, and more plentiful than they've ever had before.

There was a time when Wilbur would observe with amusement the strangers who they passed by on their travels, who planted ideas into the hearts of men that ignited like a star, an undying passion that caused their love or their loss. There was a time where he saw men as puppets to be toyed with, to be broken and left on the side, discarded once they lost their value. But it was Phil who introduced him to the curious things called communication and human creativity, who showed him that making an impact on their histories could be just as thrilling as tampering with their thoughts and hopes and dreams, that sometimes it was just as fun to be seen. And it didn't take long for the God of Music to insist on tagging along on adventures in the guise of a mortal man, providing each and every soul he greeted with a love more true than any he could instill in them artificially as they walked through various streets and landmarks that left even him in full awe.

And though the man enjoyed the time he spent with the gods immensely, he still couldn't help but remember the things they did to him every time he saw himself reflected in a lake or a mirror, turning around with an expectancy of an attack only to realize that the things he would have seen once as enemies were now attached to him, as they would forever be.