The Unfortunate Get No Pity

He Who is Forbidden

Mantis placed a small, delicate object into a small white box, slipping the lid onto the box before tying it together with a pale pink ribbon. He seemed content with his work, his normally changeless face showing a hint of satisfaction. His hands grasped around the box, careful to not damage its contents. They looked at the clock on the wall. Almost midnight. He began to make his way to the door leading out of the archives. Just as they reached out for the doorknob, a horrible sensation washed over his body; his soul feeling as if it had gotten frozen over by a snowstorm. What...what is this horrid feeling? Mantis thought, his breathing quickening. His chest tightened, their grip on the box tightening. The gem on their forehead illuminated faintly as a scene flashed before their eyes.

Two...two people...on a building's edge...

He blinked rapidly, a headache beginning to form. He quickly placed the box on a nearby bookshelf as he tried to support himself, his knees growing weak.

Why can't I sense him? Why can't I hear him? Where has his soul gone?!

Their hands balled tightly into fists, their pupils dilating as the panic grew. The cold feeling was growing worse as if something tragic was occurring. Beads of sweat rolled off his pink and green blotched face, landing on the hardwood floor.

Please answer me...please tell me you're there...please...

And then nothing. The sensation disappeared. It was gone. He was gone.

He didn't know how much time had passed when, suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Mantis' eyes darted to the door, letting his breathing ease for a minute. He stood up, approaching the door; still shaken up. He grasped the doorknob, opening the door slowly. It was Fengári.

"Mantis, I..."

꧁𓊈𒆜 𒆜𓊉꧂

Fengári knocked on the door to the archives, the library of the Godhome. She knew Mantis was there; he was always there at this time of night. She was originally going to see how he was doing, but she had just gotten the sensation that he had passed. His soul rang out before his final breath, and Fengári recognized it clear as day. She hoped she was mistaken. She prayed it wasn't his, but she out of all gods knew that denying it would only devolve into a worse mindset. She was sure that Mantis already knew, for demigods are spiritually connected with their gods, so he must've felt the missing sensation already. She wanted to make sure he was alright though.

She hesitated as she got ready to knock, holding her breath. Her gray claws hovered over the door. She exhaled, finally knocking on the ancient wooden door.

It took a minute before she heard faint footsteps approach the door, the doorknob turning. The door opened, Mantis' eyes finally met Fengári's deep, blue orbs. His lavender eyes echoed with grief, even though his expression remained unmoving.

"Mantis, I..."

His once stoic and unmoving face melted into despair, tears as big as moons forming in his eyes. He broke down, the tears falling down onto the floor beneath them. The owl goddess held her friend in her wings as he wept, trying her best to comfort Mantis. "If only...if only I had predicted this sooner, maybe none of this would have happened..." she heard him say between sobs. "He's gone...he's gone..."
He kept repeating this phrase as his tears continued to flow like a spring river. There was no stopping this now. From this point forward, everything will change.

Fengári knew that, and she was sure Mantis did too.

꧁𓊈𒆜 𒆜𓊉꧂

Mantis suddenly awakened, sitting up quickly in his hotel bed. He processed what had just happened, his breathing starting to ease out. He looked at the clock hung up on the wall. 5 in the morning...
He wanted to forget. He needed to forget. But he can't. He never will.
Mantis rubbed the corners of his eyes, sighing. This week has been so chaotic...normally I wouldn't have a problem with that, but for once I'd like a peaceful day. For one day. For that one day...

He felt a presence summon itself beside him, the pale green body of Mourning Eyes glowing faintly in the dark; his spirit manifestEd into a being of it's own will and accord. "I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me constantly," Mantis said, quietly yet firm. The serpent-like stand made gurgling noises in response. It normally would have just sounded like noise to anyone else. Mantis, on the other hand, could understand it completely.

He sighed, laying back down. He stared at the ceiling, contemplating either falling back to sleep or staying awake. Mourning Eyes only stared, blinking. It's tears seemed to seep from it's eyes, yet never dripped onto the mattress. Mantis turned to the other side of the bed, eyeing the objects on the nightstand beside the hotel bed. There was a lamp, his signature sunglasses, his leather bag, and a black envelope. Mourning retreated, dissipating silently to allow its user to rest peacefully. Mantis' eyelids drooped, sleep beginning to take over. He closed his eyes, hoping the cold pain would leave him once the golden glow of the sunlight came in the morning.

And with that, he drifted into a dark, dreamless sleep.