MCYT Oneshots

The Gods

If an angel had ever scraped the surface of whatever mystery godhood was, that awful beast would have been Philza. Morality and immortality were oceans away from one another, and Phil had floated between timelessly. An angel of Death. Many others had fallen before him, trying to reach some grand goal of self-righteousness. Phil, however, knew that ascension danced with forgetting yourself. Morality and immortality.

They were so far apart, especially for a god.

Years felt like seconds. Phil did not come from the binds of the human soul or body. When the sunlit its fires and bathed the green globe for the very first time, Phil bloomed with the flowers. He walked the edge of matter itself, where others cried for more time he waited silently for less. He watched as the tide tore apart the land and ice swallowed the seas. He watched as it melted and creatures reborn of muck ruled. He watched as civilizations rose and fell, drawing the man-made concepts of time and Morals in sands that had not been there before.

Phil. He was not the first god of the mortal realm, only one of few. A partner ran her fingers through the raven black of his wings, entwining him with a new idea. The idea of Life.

Kristen was a goddess, undeniably parallel to Phil. Where he had risen in the damp cold of evergreen, Kristen had laid with lilac and bluebell until the world whispered for her to wake. She had hair of night sky, starless till she stood in the sunlight. She was the delicacy of balance and the untouchable roughness of being Alive.

Much like Phil, she had wings. Where his wings were feathered and dark, filled with galaxies and flickering lights; hers, though, were tiny scales and soft fuzz, like that of a moth. The few quarrels they had, playing their endless game of flickering through time, had been of Phil attempting to touch her wings.

He hadn't understood her anger. She tried to reason with him, filled with pity and frustration. The oddest part, the anger didn't seem directed to him but to some otherworldly thing she couldn't reach.

In human terms, he was Death. The reaper who's touch could and would turn the unstable balance of time to ash. She was Living, though, she was the ragged pain of every day and soft wonder of viewing the stars for the first time. Her wings were fragile as well, they would be ash beneath his hands. Where she was immortal, her wings seemed another entity altogether.

His hands may never grace her wings, as his touch was poison. His hands may never grace the world around him. He was only made to collect those she could no longer Love. Acceptance came slowly, but time was nothing to immortality. He had taken a sickle from early civilization and modified it to his use. Just as the humans worked in the fields, collecting just enough to survive, Phil would collect those who didn't. Where he had previously been uncaring of the humans, assuming they would fall just like the millions of creatures before them, the humans had begun to change things. Their minds warped this world, influencing whatever strange thing had started Phil and Kristen. They created new gods, ones born of man-made ideas.

The first was Rebirth. Both a nuisance and subject of fascination for both Phil and Kristen. The new god would hold those Kristen left behind before Phil could reach them, and breathe new Life into their still lungs. Kristen knew those she had left had been forgotten with reason, although someone who could challenge her power was certainly interesting. Phil only wished to complete his job.

Phil was the first to find the new god. He had been wandering the human societies, the places they left, upon finding the creature. He had been half-submerged, buried in the jungle lake, eyes closed and statue still. A god of Rebirth left to grow moss and vine in the still of a jungle lake. Odd.

"Awake, new god. I have a question."

It obeyed, unfurling itself as it did. The new god was huge, towering over Phil. Its eyes were emerald stone, inlaid in its parchment yellow flesh. It seemed to be made of clay and mineral, with a humanoid form. Although, the marine god seemed to have blessed this creature. Gills, tails, fins, and serrated teeth spoke of the predators hiding beneath the waves.