Following the death of God, war breaks out between the pantheons, leaving violence and politics to determine who will take the title "King of Kings"
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God Complex plays on the interesting similarities and differences from the wor...
Leaves and twigs crunched beneath her feet. Today she's not so careless, not so obvious. But she was younger then, so she could afford to not know any better. Regardless of the noises she made, she stalked her prey who seemed, at least to her, unaware.
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He was an older, rougher man. Much larger than any other man she'd ever seen, and she liked it that way. His arms were wide, like his belly, but much stronger. His beard, red like fire, was wet with water from the spring he crouched beside. He scooped up crystal clear water and sipped from it like a helpless deer. It was enough to make her laugh. Fearing he might hear her, she covered her mouth and lowered her head. Though she was already so small there was no way he'd see her.
She waited a whole minute, which was too much for her. Impatient, she plucked a feather from the plumage at her collar. She did as he taught her. Focused everything on her feather till it glowed like a light and became straight as silver.
"Gotcha," she shouted as she leaped from the bushes. Before her little talons could scrape the ground she'd thrown the feather. A grin took up her face as she thought of all the praise she was going to receive. Great job Fea. You killed me good Fea. Aim a little lower next time Fea. But her grin sunk into a frown when she saw her feather go limp just after leaving her grip. Instead of piercing the man's tight brown hide, it fell onto the ground, lost in the wild grass.
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She landed on her rump, flushed. She heard his voice but couldn't bring herself to look at him.
"Y'know ye should be using yer size to yer advantage." His voice is rough and soothing at the same time. It was like sour honey; bittersweet.
"A tiny éan like ye shouldn't make so much noise."
In a seconds time, his voice traveled from the creek to right over her. He was so close she couldn't ignore him, even if she wanted to, which she didn't. He lifted her chin with one of his massive, cracked fingers.
From out of the bush of red that hid his face came a wide, white smile. It lifted her heart and so she smiled as well.
Where it took her entire hand to hold onto a single feather, he held it between his fattest and longest fingers.
