Born Of The Gods

I : The Meeting

Just beyond that molten line of gold where the sun rose and set each day, sat the realm of gods. Protected by the blue sky and the soft dandelion fuzz clouds, many gods and god-borns resided. The court of the Origin gods lived at the very top of the mountain city, preoccupying the divine temple of World. Their children, the god-borns, lived in the smaller temples and lived rich lives, without worry.

God-borns were not originally born deities. They were spirits formed from the love of other deities and awakened at a certain point in their lives to be pronounced to be born of a god, that matched their actions and lives.

The realm of gods held exquisite parties, that mortals could not even dream of and they lasted up to a month. In these parties, occupants of the realm ate and drank, talked duties and many stories of their time visiting the realm of mortal men. How everyone loved those stories! Only the bravest of gods ventured beyond the golden border of the gates, much less set their foot on the ground, where they were worshiped. But once they returned, the residents could not anticipate the next party more to heart the stories. Young God-borns, who were not yet awakened, also attended the parties and were left by their guardians to play amongst themselves. They had their own toys and entertainment and preferred themselves to stay out of the tiring world of grownups. And our story begins in one of these parties, where two young god-borns met and made a bond.

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It was one of the grandest parties of the year, the harvest moon. Demeter-born children were the guests of honor and Demeter herself was the host. Gods and god-borns alike attended the occasion and ambrosia flowed from every cup and every servant held a golden bowl full of the most perfect fruit, offerings from the human world. Apollo-borns played their Lyras and Harps, and the soft songs of many flutes filled the temple. Many attendees spun in dance and many just enjoyed the fine arts, conversing with others. There was talk about the harvest, the men conversed about wars and prayers from the mortal realm, and the women gossiped about the harvest of newborns and the offspring that would be conceived at such an event.

While adults tended to celebrate and partake in matters of the flesh amongst themselves, the youngest children and newborns were tended by nymphs, the older children playing with others. In the older child bunch sat a young boy, hair as red as wine and skin a warm caramel color. Born from an Aphrodite-born and a Hephaestus-born, his figure was blessed with snow-white wings, clearly marking his faith as an Erote, but still awaiting to be picked of birth. His spirit name was picked affectionately as Misaki, due to his feminine body and look, but being embarrassed of such a name, the boy called himself Yatagarasu. He was a kind spirit, and a loud one too, being blessed with a strong voice and predicted by many to be a musician in the future. He played with others and treated them as his own siblings, the virtue of friendship taught to him by his mother Tatara. He also possessed a brave and fiery demeanor, passed down from his Father Mikoto. He was not afraid of what other children were, and often was a leader of a group. He made friends quickly and refrained from making enemies.

At this particular night, he was playing with other children, when suddenly a loud clang caught his ear. Raising his eyes, he scanned the columned room, at first only spotting nymphs, from which he quickly turned his gaze away, but then caught sight of a small, hunched over figure in the corner of the room, franticly doing something to a piece of papyrus. Seeing that his fellow playmates had turned away from him to play games, he stood up, dusting his small red toga off and slowly started to approach the figure. As he drew near, he could make out the form to be another boy, who seemed about his age, with onyx colored hair and skin almost as white as snow. He was hunched over the papyrus, which was drenched in grape nectar, the golden goblet next to the purple puddle on the otherwise clean green marble. It seemed that the sound had came from the goblet tipping over. The boy seemed to be in panic, as he tried to make the paper clean, but it was a lost case. The young Erote kneeled down opposite the dark haired boy, putting his hand in aid, although the writing seemed to never be recovered again in the place where the nectar had done it's dirty deed. As Misaki reached his hand over, the papyrus was snatched under his palm and then torn apart. As he raised his head to look at the other, he saw a beautiful, but alas, scowling face in front of him. His eyes were as blue as the sky after a heavy rainfall, trapped behind dark rock frames and what seemed like reading glass lenses. His forehead was drawn in a crease and he seemed to try and shrink into himself to hide from Yata's watchful eye.