Techno stood by the tree, laughing breathlessly to himself. The kid offered him the stolen gold in return for not telling dad. Ah, kids. You can't change them.
He sighed to himself. The kid reminded him of someone he feels like he should know. His character, he feels familiar to him. There's a sense of... nostalgia? Sorrow? He wasn't sure. The boy just feels like he should know more about him. He sighed to himself. How was he meant to know of a boy who was born barely eight years ago?
And yet, in his eyes, something was not right. He wasn't like the humans he's met, he wasn't anything like it. Something at his core was fundamentally different, and he couldn't tell what. When he looked through into his soul it was as if the boy's age betrayed his experiences, something about his soul was older than the both of them. His eyes reminded him of Wilbur, something about their eyes were separate to every other human but not to each other. Maybe in another life, they were brothers. But that wouldn't explain their difference to everyone else.
Oddly enough, their eyes reminded him more of how he sees his own in mirrors, it was like looking into a cracked mirror version of his own. It isn't the same right now, but the image they're based on is the same. He wasn't sure why he could feel so with Wilbur and Tommy and only Wilbur and Tommy, because both were mere mortals, both were humans. Although their eyes reflected his own, fundamentally they were different.
He wants to just observe the odd boy until he can crack the code, figure out why he is so oddly familiar. But he knows he can't, and the answers are probably long lost. But he can't help but wonder.
He stared up at the bright full moon once more. Why did the gods of old have to make the ways of the world so complicated?
As he sat under starlight, a certain god continued observing from the Aether, one that everyone shunned for how utterly immoral she was, her execution so painful the candle wax still clung to her soul as she finally passed on, now in the afterlife what should've been the god of beauty sits upon the throne the world built for her in her chambers, eerily similar to the prison cell they withheld her in, with scorch marks painting her body and cooled candle wax stuck to parts of her skin, she'll never get them off, she's tried.
The only god who didn't die a death like the others, who died tortured by the humans she was meant to captivate, was meant to turn into her worshippers.
The only god humans willingly dethroned.
The goddess of beauty was the power she was birthed with, but in her short hundred years the title she gave herself was deity of bloodied roses, or simply known as goddess of pain.
Crimson red roses covered the parts of her body which were unsightly, the last ditch attempt at earning her own title of beauty back after her body was scorched for a decade. She was blind in one eye, for roses had grown out of her skull, her powers attempting to hide away the most grotesque of her injuries.
Despite the cruel torture she endured, no god in the Aether welcomed her, in their eyes it was well deserved, and she must say, looking back on her time, she could see where they were coming from.
She hated her own actions, but many would say she only did so because she will now be forced to reprimand for it her whole existence. The other gods rested in chambers of marble and gold while she was forced to lay in a room reminiscent of her prison cell, forever haunted by what they did to her.
She sat upon her bed of roses, a bed she knows she made herself. She still had access to the rest of the Aether's lands, but she knows wherever she'll go she will always be disliked by the many other gods, but she's sure none could hate her more than the first two.
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Saccharine Sweets.
FanfictionA god of an era forgone awaits his final death, his soul slumbering in a tree guarding his final pavilion, the last standing remnant of his existence. He was a god who had accomplished many in his seven thousand years of existence, watching civiliz...
