It was how he gained a roommate. Sort off. Low maintenance mostly.
Khonshu was suddenly very present and visible, reading through his avatar's eyes or over his shoulder, murmuring comments that were actually quite… informative, really. Steven didn't dare loosen up, but after some time of having a moon god living rent-free with him, he found himself asking questions.
And was receiving answers.
He was so startled, he really didn't get what Khonshu was saying and forgot what the question had been about. It got him an amused head-tilt.
So he asked more. About ancient Egypt. About the role of the gods, their activities, their avatars. He asked more than Marc had ever done.
"The other gods aren't with their avatars all the time?" he curiously asked one evening after reading half a book on Egyptian gods and how they interacted with the ancient Egyptians.
"No."
He waited. Steven had learned that waiting was sometimes the best course of action.
"There is hardly any interaction between the avatar and their god. They only touch their minds when they need to meet in the realm between realms."
"You people can't just… go there yourselves?" he wanted to know, curiosity spiking.
"No."
Alright. He waited.
Nope, not getting any more on that topic.
"The other gods don't hang around ominously or just… have a chat with their avatars?" Steven let some humor slip in. "Move into their homes? Comment on their life style?"
"No."
He wasn't deterred by the annoyingly dismissive answers. "Ah. Okay. Hathor, Osiris… their avatars are… not their warriors? Knights?"
There was disdain radiating off the deity. "No. They refuse to actively involve themselves in this realm. Their guidance is laughable! I am not as blind as them," Khonshu growled. "My Knights are my justice! They protect the innocent!"
"And they are the dead or dying? You give them the choice?"
"I always do. Reclaiming a soul from death against their will creates a schism within that eventually leads to decay."
"Oh."
Steven leaned back, mind whirling.
XXX
Khonshu's brief, sometimes really annoyingly curt or very ominous answers grew into longer explanations as time went on. And when he used his powers to draw very vivid scenes of life back then, wrote hieroglyphs into the air, gave Steven a deeper look into the past, Steven Grant knew he couldn't stop.
They didn't touch the role of the avatars again, especially the deep connection Khonshu had forged with Marc, but everything else was apparently fair game.
One evening he dug into the mystery the Overvoid; Heliopolis. The world of the gods as perceived by the ancient Egyptians. He asked about the gateway between realms that existed only in Egypt. All doors led to Egypt and from that one pocket dimension to the realm of the gods.
They got back onto the topic of avatars by accident, about the other gods using theirs only to view the world of humans from afar, without ever interfering, and sometimes to walk among their former worshippers. There seemed to be one or two who had appeared in visions to potential avatars, but had chosen to indirectly bestow them with powers and let them protect their people instead of granting them access to the individual god's energy.
"Is Yatzil really thousands of years old?" Steven wanted to know.
He was surrounded by stacks of magazines, books and worn paper that had been leafed through a thousand times. Some pages has been balled up, then smoothed out again, others had notes penciled everywhere.
Khonshu regarded him silently, almost indifferently. Steven was quite aware that time passed differently for the deity, that the life of a human soul was… maybe not nothing, but probably unimportant. Switching avatars every few years had to be tiring, so given the chosen one a life that surpassed everyone else's made actual sense.
"I mean, humans aren't meant to live that long," he added, prodding gently.
"Of course not." It was almost a huff.
"You can extend life?"
"It is the choice of the avatar to serve a god."
Not an answer, but Steven took what he got. "As long as they want?"
Khonshu inclined his head. "We release them from their oath should they wish so. Until then, the power of the god protects the chosen."
Khonshu had had many. Hathor had mentioned as much. But he had also done his very worst to keep Marc as his Knight.
Steven chewed on his lower lip, fingers nervously playing with the pen. He wanted to know, but he didn't dare ask. Not just about Marc, but also about the avatar who came before him.
"You… I… I know it's a sore spot, but… you chose Harrow…"
Khonshu's magic flared and a tower of books toppled. Steven's eyes widened and he raised his hands.
"Really, sorry, my apologies, never mind… I… sorry," he finished lamely.
Khonshu's sockets seemed darker than before, the anger clear to feel. "He seemed… fitting at the time," he finally spat. "He was a mistake!"
"I can… see that. I understand. I mean, he was kind of… sick in the head. In a very weird way. Did… Ammit do that?"
Khonshu was silent for a long, long time, then finally snarled, "His mind was receptive, but it was twisted. Ammit didn't need to add to that. She didn't seek him out; he found her. He knew about the world of the gods through his servitude to me. A curious mind, like you."
Steven opened his mouth, then shut it again, hunching his shoulders a little.
"Curious, but detached, No emotions but those the power over the guilty evoked. He wanted to serve because then he felt."
Steven watched the play of magic around the moon god, the way the ragged shawl moved, how it twisted slightly with every angry spike.
"He blamed you."
There was another flare. "I cannot influence a mind, Steven Grant! I cannot alter what it already there! I cannot erase the toxicity!"
"So you left him… let him be? After one last job?"
"I should have ended him," the god whispered harshly, the surge of emotions so dark, Steven was glad he only got the watered-down version of that contact.
"You didn't." Which was quite telling all on its own.
Khonshu snarled wordlessly, then settled down, radiating displeasure and an old anger that was still gnawing at him.
Steven turned to restacking the books. Then he went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He was more shaken up than he wanted to confess to.
"An avatar's choice is their own," the entity's voice broke the silence after a while. "It always is. I gave mine the choice, in death and in life."
"You kinda threatened Marc…" he mumbled to himself.
"Not when he was given the choice to become my Knight!"
"Well, yes, but later you got so much worse!" Steven nearly yelled back, feeling a sudden protectiveness rise. "He didn't deserve that!" The surge of anger was all is own. "He never did! What you did was cruel and uncalled for!"
Okay. Now it was out in the open.
He had seen Marc battle his own emotions, his conscience. He had a good moral compass, despite becoming a mercenary, despite killing people. Steven had seen his suffering, had experienced that conflict, and he had realized that Marc wasn't opposed to serving Khonshu – because he had chosen him back then. He simply couldn't cope with the constant pressure, the urgency, the way Khonshu had pushed and pushed to get to Ammit's tomb first.
Which was probably the reason why Steven had surfaced so suddenly, so quickly; Marc's last defense. His attempt to… to… ease the pressure?
Khonshu rose to his full height. "Ammit needed to be stopped! I was the only one who saw the danger and it needed to be done!" Ribbons whipped about and Steven shivered, but he refused to be cowed. "There was no time! It was a price I had to pay!"
No time for rest. No time to recover. No time to heal or to truly understand. No time to truly find a balance between his old life and his new, the power within him just a weapon with the safety off all the time. Like Khonshu had been absolutely off.
Because of the pressure.
Because he had been single-mindedly hunting, consequences be damned, and he had made grievous mistakes. The moon god had paid dearly for it, but so had his avatar.
"Marc is not a tool!" Steven blurted angrily. "But you treated him like one! You ran him into the ground! Your avatar! He didn't deserve this! He never did!"
The next flare had a row of books tumble off the shelf that served as a divider and Steven winced.
"There was no time!" the god spat again. "None! It had to be done! No matter the cost!"
Steven felt hot anger course through him. "You nearly broke him!"
Khonshu's magic whirled around him, the books' pages fluttering wildly. "I would never have hurt him!"
"But you did!" he yelled.
There.
Steven wondered if the whole building would start to shake next.
And then the moon god was suddenly gone.
"Marvelous!" Steven exclaimed. "Just bugger off when things get tough!"
There was only silence.
He sank into his chair, looking at his trembling hands. There wasn't a peep out of Marc, who was safely in the depth of their mind and soul, and Steven would do his damn best to protect him from this. The alter needed rest.
"Bloody pigeon," he whispered, finger-combing his unruly hair.
Part of him tried to understand; actually understood. There had been a time factor. Khonshu had pushed and pushed to keep Harrow from reaching his goal.
"Should have trusted your avatar," he grumbled.
XXX
He saw not a single lurking shadow anywhere for the next three days. It was getting on his nerves, made him even more jumpy, and he almost made an error in his inventory work.
"Enough," he whispered as he rubbed his tired eyes.
Sleep had been a little worse those three days. He was thinking too much about what had happened, what had been said, what had been revealed between the lines, and how so much was still festering inside the deity.
"Would you please stop behaving like a child! That would be grand! Really grand!"
The room was silent.
Just him, the archive, nothing else.
