Where the Lights May Lead
The Fire Emblem 100 Challenge!
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Harbinger
Theme #46: It Doesn't Stop
Characters: Anna, Jake
Genre: Supernatural
Word count: 823
Warning(s): Awesome-super-fun-time shenanigans with deities whose morals can be described as "questionable" at best? 8D
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"Do you remember that knight?" she asks, dipping her finger quickly into the bowl of water upon the table and idly watching the ripples move out to the edges of the vessel. "The one I brought back 'for his lady'?"
He looks at her, expression detached, bored. There is something in his hands, a puzzle-toy of some sort, and the sound of the metal pieces clicking against each other as he slides them around echoes dimly in the space around them. "Yes," he says, "I remember. You wouldn't stop talking about him for the longest time."
Again, she touches the surface of the water with her forefinger, barely skimming the surface and watching with mild interest as an image forms upon it: a fairly handsome man, despite his ruined features and age, a hood leaving his face in shadow to maintain his disguise. "He was nice to play with—I hadn't had that much fun in such a long time. He didn't talk much, but his reactions were simply marvelous."
"What about that young prince of yours?" He bites his lower lip in concentration as the secrets of the puzzle-toy become more obvious. "Or the emperor's son? He was a pretty one."
She shrugs. "Royalty is hard, though," she replies. Once more she touches the water, barely glancing at the images forming on the surface. "One mistake, and then an entire world is ruined—all that time and energy wasted, and then you have to start from the beginning all over again. It's such a pain." She brings a forefinger to her cheek and rests it there, the other finger still tracing patterns on the water's surface. "The little emperor was fun though, wasn't he? Especially when he learned the truth about that bookish shaman friend of his. And the prince cried so prettily when his darling princess fell from the sky when that arrow hit her, just like a snowflake."
He glances at her. "You admit it yourself, you enjoyed yourself then. Why not go back and do it again? Surely it isn't difficult for you."
"Of course it isn't," she says, "but you can only play with things so much before they get boring—and humans are so predictable, their reactions stop surprising you after a while."
"Ah." He fiddles with the toy a bit more. "Then why not find something else to do?"
"What do you mean?" She withdraws her hand from the water, and instantly the liquid turns dark. "I'm not like you—silly things like that toy of yours won't keep me amused."
He shakes his head and looks directly at her. "No," he says, "that's not what I meant." Finally, he sets the puzzle-toy down, its metal surface gleaming dimly in the low light, and stands up. He quickly closes the distance between them with long, graceful strides, and stands beside her, expression unreadable as he looks down at the bowl of water.
"What?" She looks up at him curiously, fighting hard to keep the smile from her lips—he has taken one of her favorite forms, and it is all she can do to not reach up and drag her fingers across the broad expanse of his chest and down his side.
With a fluid motion, he brushes the surface of the water with the tip of his middle finger. An image forms, a woman with hair the same shade as the sky at dawn; she appears tired and worn, her eyes holding emotion that is a strange mixture of peace and grief.
She frowns. "So?"
He smirks, and the image changes: a battlefield, spattered with blood and gore, and the sound of war echoing for eons to come.
"Oh." She smiles and rests her forefinger on her cheek as she contemplates the possibilities. "Oh. I see. This should be fun."
"You don't mind waiting?" He removes his hand from the bowl and rests it gently on her waist, drawing her closer to him and brushing her hip gently. "It's an entire continent, after all. You said you didn't like doing all that work."
She pouts. "But I was talking about royalty. Mortals. I've never played with a goddess before."
"Neither have I." One hand travels upward as he traces the curve of her breast. "What does that make us, then?"
With a sigh of pleasure, she leans into his touch. "Devils, maybe? Or even greater than gods? I don't know. I don't care. It doesn't matter, really."
He smiles and leans down to press his lips against hers. "What do you think they would do if they knew?"
"I don't know," she murmurs. "They probably wouldn't understand."
Clever fingers find their way into the folds of her garment, and he smirks as she quivers against him. "They don't understand a lot of things."
"Maybe it's better this way." She waves her hand in a wide, sweeping arc, and any remaining light is quickly extinguished.
"Perhaps."
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Xirysa Says: I maintain that everyone must write evil time god shenanigans at some point; I rather want to write more of them, actually.
Inspired in part by Asherien's "For My Lady". (Great stuff, go read it!)
Feedback is appreciated! Thank you for reading.