Part I: A New Breath of Life
Chapter II
"What will we do with a drunken whaler? What will we do with a drunken whaler? What will we do with a drunken whaler early in the mornin'?"
Clop. Clop. Clop. Shhhhsht.
"Way-ay up she rises. Way-ay and up she rises. Way-ay up she rises early in the mornin'."
Clop. Shhhhhhsht. Clop. Clop. Shhhsht.
"Stuff 'im in a sack and throw 'im over. Stuff 'im in a sack and throw 'im over. Stuff 'im in a sack and throw 'im over…"
Clop. Clop. Ker-plunk!
"...early in the mornin'."
Emily Tippit, a small smuggler ship coated in an ancient, sopping red dust, groaned ominously as she entered the west side of the port, water lapping at her sides greedily. From her port side, and through the thick grasp of fog, a man with a tall, heavy-set stature dumped a large sack over the railing as she trolled toward the docks. The bay sagged in exhaustion as the burlap sack slowly sank, disappearing from view in a trail of sickening bubbles. A gull screeched overhead.
Feed 'im to the hungry rats for dinner. Feed 'im to the hungry rats for dinner. Feed 'im to the hungry rats for dinner early in the mornin'.
Emily
was home. The fog hung in the air as the sun rose (burning at a pace that was no more than lazy). The soft hum of the trolling motor of Emily Tippit reverberated off of the water, cutting out only when she reached the docks.
Way-ay and up she rises. Way-ay and up she rises. Way-ay and up she rises early in the mornin'.
Serkonos, The Red Jewel of the South, was waking up, and she was not happy.
"Alright, we're here. Now get off," Billie grunted, arms crossed.
Adonis ignored her, pale emerald eyes focused on the distant docks of Karnaca. They were bustling now, in the morning, when the whaling crews pulled into port with their fresh catch. He could see the little ants working about the shore, pulling goods on and off of rickety, bloodied ships. "Were we not headed for Dunwall?"
A pause. "I changed my mind."
"You expect me to swim?"
"Take the skiff."
"I won't return it."
"I know."
Shifting his arms, Adonis tugged at the collar around his neck, attempting to shield his sun-shy skin from the stifling ocean air. "You're frightened of me, Billie Lurk." There was no emotion in this conclusion.
Billie turned her head, already heading toward the skiff to rig it up. Old Daud, a tiny cargo vessel, had been stolen from the docks of some poor merchant near the edge of Karnaca, renamed and maintained faithfully by Billie Lurk herself. The plan had been to return to Dunwall-for what reason, she was no longer sure of. Maybe it was to abandon The Outsider on the doorstep of Dunwall Tower, or maybe it was for her own trepidations about what was to come if she were to stay a moment longer in Serkonos. Whatever the case, she soon discovered that Old Daud would never successfully reach Dunwall the way it was. With bloodflies and leaks in the cargo hold, she had plenty of work cut out for her.
If Billie Lurk was going to abandon The Outsider anywhere, she might as well do it here.
"No, you're wrong. I'm not afraid of you-not anymore." You're powerless now, Outsider. You can't hurt us anymore.
The heavy coat caught against the rusted railing as Adonis turned to watch her, his green eyes focused on her retreating form. "Of course, I walk once more among humanity, blissfully ignorant of what is to come." He paused here, mulling over his next words carefully. "Still, I've watched, from the Void, the lives of generations through painted eyes acting as the cosmos. The mind is its own place, Billie Lurk. In itself it can make a Heaven of Hell and a Hell of Heaven."
Billie didn't respond as she tampered with the restraints for the skiff. The salt-caked mechanics groaned and screeched as they caught, shuddering before they gave way. The skiff crashed halfway into the murky waters below, the nose dipping awkwardly below the surface. She bent over the rails to make sure that it wasn't floating off. "Looks like you'll have to jump down, then. Try not to get strung up by Overseers."
Old Daud moaned, shifting as Adonis moved to stand beside Billie, one hand on the rusted railing. It was only a couple feet down, but he'd have to be careful. "Then this is goodbye, Lurk."
"Goodbye." Good riddance.
His heavy coat tore as he leapt down, the skiff screaming and crashing (with its rigging) completely into the murky waters. It tipped and popped, but otherwise stayed afloat.
Kuh-kah… kah! Kuhkukkuk! Vrrrr...
Billie watched the skiff disembark and troll toward the distant docks. Somehow, she knew, they would meet again. The Void had a way of keeping interesting people together.
Serkonan men grunted as their wet bodies-caked by the ocean and kissed by the sun-bustled to-and-fro, heaving crates and heavy equipment on and off the docks.
"Hope we don't have a small haul again, Cap'n Reive."
"Nothin' to worry 'bout now! She'll catch up soon. She always does."
Chains clanked, metal screeched, and slimy flesh slipped on and off of docks. Karnaca was just as Adonis had remembered it. Not much had changed since Emily Kaldwin had returned to her throne-though Delilah's banners were lowered and Emily's had been raised. Adonis would have liked to see Corvo the Black's rise to power, but he wasn't fortunate enough to see that timeline come to fruition. How interesting it would have been!
All hail Emily Kaldwin, the first of her name!
Yes, all hail Empress Emily Kaldwin and her pet dog: Corvo Attano. Adonis almost laughed.
The skiff coughed and sputtered out along the first dock, brushing up against the decaying wood like a loving child. With a hefty sigh, Adonis pressed the palm of his hand against the edge, hefting himself upon it and lifting his feet up and underneath him. The boots scuffed, propping him up and keeping him steady. For a moment, his eyes wandered about the disused vessel, tearing free only at the low whistle of the nearby whaling crew. They were still rigging up.
"Attention all Citizens: Curfew has been lifted, but mandatory checkpoints are still in place. Remember, if you have been displaced during the last four months you must submit the correct paperwork by the seventeenth in order to be eligible for compensation." The announcement went largely unnoticed, and the hustle and bustle continued unperturbed.
In the distant and long forgotten docks near the east edge of Karnaca Bay sat Emily Tippit, her snout jutting out like the chin of a cranky old witch. Adonis narrowed his eyes, flicking his gaze away and settling on something much more interesting: a bar near the water. He left the skiff behind-It was useless to him anyway.
"Pull up a seat, friend," the bartender grunted. Adonis didn't do as he said, instead leaning against the sun-bleached counter and gazing at a bottle of whiskey. It had been millennia since he'd last tasted the strength of alcohol on his tongue. Glancing at the young man, the bartender went about serving another customer. It was clear Adonis didn't have money. "You know, there's always whalin' crews lookin' for new blood, if you're lookin' for work."
The idea made Adonis ill. "The death-set eyes of beasts peer at me and accuse me of belonging to the race of murderers," he murmured, pale emerald eyes focused on a dumbfounded bartender. "A Tyvian man named Amos said that." With that, he straightened and headed off toward the darkness of the eastern docks. Emily Tippit was a sight too veiled in mystery to forget.
The bright, cheery attitude of the west slowly bled into the dark veil that was the east, the whalers and wandering citizens growing more sparse in number as Adonis delved deeper.
Shoot 'im through the heart with a loaded pistol.
The subject of the matter, Emily Tippit, had been abandoned near a burned-out fishery, the bricks still caked in decade-old soot and broken dreams.
Shoot 'im through the heart with a loaded pistol.
Of course, there was a reason for Adonis to come here-there were always reasons for what he did, be them understandable or not. He knew what Emily Tippit was-knew who owned it and what they did. As a god, The Outsider would have enjoyed this.
But Adonis wasn't a god-not anymore.
Shoot 'im through the heart with a loaded pistol early in the mornin'.
"Attention all Citizens: Curfew has been lifted, but mandatory checkpoints are still in place."
The shrine was closer than he thought. His ears strained to catch the faint hum which reminded him of that place. It gently pulled at his soul, beckoning him towards the ship. He could hear it. He could hear it.
"Remember, if you have been displaced during the last four months you must…"
It beat like a heart, whispering softly, the Void always near, always here, never there or where.
"...submit the correct paperwork by the seventeenth in order to be eligible for compensation."
A step. Another. Not too far off now.
Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver.
He thought he wanted this. He had wanted this, but at what cost? Four thousand years changed a man. Could he still call himself a man? Was he still a human? Adonis felt his heart skip a beat, his boots sliding toward the shrine's call. He could picture the Mark-his name-on the runes in his hands. They hummed softly with the voices of the lost.
Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver.
Emily Tippit flickered out of existence, then back again. He could feel the Void grow closer, clawing at his form and beckoning him back.
And when he was at the edge and could practically feel the vibrations of The Dead God, the ship was gone. There was nothing at the edge of the docks. Nothing. Emily had not existed.
Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver early in the mornin'.
Billie's words from when they'd left the Void rang in his ears. "Not much is certain, but there are some things that I know are true," she had murmured. "The Outsider is no more, and with that the world will change in ways that no one will ever know."
The Outsider is no more. The world will change in ways that no one will ever know. The Void. Marked. Lost souls. The Dead God. His name.
"Not a great place to get lost, friend."
All at once, the mortal realm crashed back onto Adonis' shoulders. Taking a step back, he flicked his gaze toward the speaker. There they were: shrouded in the shadows, settled on an abandoned crate, and looking quite pleased with themself. Adonis couldn't tell who they were or what they were doing, but something about their voice… He knew it.
The figure stood, hair dark and eyes peering out from a shadowed face. "The Void calls those who have been touched by it. Have you been Void-touched?"
Adonis could no longer feel the tug. It was nowhere near. "Perhaps… In the past, when life had yet to depart and yet it had been taken."
A grin. "Quite the poetic tongue you have there, Outsider, or… is that you? You seem… weaker now. You came for Emily? She's a jewel, isn't she?" The man wasn't wrong. Emily had called Adonis like a loving mother. It was almost impossible to deny it.
The crowd began to move.
I joined the procession. One to
the dead One spoke: "How can
we survive You, and why were
we so rash to make You?"
Another recited the calamity:
"First, He was like our fathers,
jealous and fearsome.
Then we made Him just, a friend
of the cursed, patient and merciful.
"I know you've died, Outsider." A forgotten Marked, bitter in age and angered by deception. "The Mark you bestowed on me all those years ago… It faded, and I knew that you had died. In a way, this gave me joy-a sort of… relief to know that justice had befallen the almighty god of lies." The man stood, brushing off his white-lined garbs. The streaks stood out like a sore thumb, and Adonis found himself wondering how he could have forgotten such a man. Had he become boring? That could be the only reason. "The Void turned to me, touching me with its magic. It wants a new god, Outsider. It needs one. I'm here to fulfill its wishes... and mine.
"And what of you?" he finished, stopping directly in front of Adonis. Something glinted in the Marked's right hand, his left hand settled on Adonis' shoulder. "What will you do?" It was almost an accusation. Adonis only watched, eerily aware. Did Adonis think himself still a god? Was he truly in the present?
"You have much to learn from Delilah's coup," Adonis replied, half in amusement. "What will you do? A forgotten child, forced to rot outside of the only city he knew. His parents outcasts… Does that make you a true Outsider? I wonder."
"I begged for your interest, and you gave it to me, only for you to take it away again. I thought I was special! Is that what you do when people bore you, Outsider?"
"You burned the city with the power I gave you. Your father would be proud."
"Shut up!"
This didn't seem right,
but we couldn't let it go.
We became apologists, deceived.
Our punishment is exile.
We are in Babylon
with no Zion to go home to.
Adonis' amusement morphed into something twisted. It was something that he hadn't felt for a long, long time. He'd almost forgotten its touch, its lure.
Pain. A blade scrubbing his insides.
Collapsing into the man, blood bubbled down his mouth, staining the streaks of white in the man's robes. "This won't be the last time we meet, Outsider," the man whispered into his ear, drowning out all other voices of the Void except for his own. "You won't forget my voice, and neither will this Void-forsaken Empire."
Way-ay and up she rises. Way-ay and up she rises. Way-ay and up she rises early in the mornin'.
And when Adonis collapsed to the ground, his lungs battered and broken, and his body unable to function as warm stickiness coated his torso and spread about him, he woke up. The eastern docks stood ominously around him and Emily Tippit loomed overhead like a leery witch.
AUTHOR NOTES
"The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven." -John Milton
"Cruelty stares at me from the butcher's face. I tread amidst carcasses. I am in the presence of the slain. The death-set eyes of beasts peer at me and accuse me of belonging to the race of murderers." -Amos Bronson Alcott
"The crowd began to move.
I joined the procession. One to
the dead One spoke: "How can
we survive You, and why were
we so rash to make You?"
Another recited the calamity:
"First, He was like our fathers,
jealous and fearsome.
Then we made Him just, a friend
of the cursed, patient and merciful.
This didn't seem right,
but we couldn't let it go.
We became apologists, deceived.
Our punishment is exile.
We are in Babylon
with no Zion to go home to."
- 2013/09/18/a-poem-on-the-death-of-god/
Thank you for reading! I'd love it if you could drop a review or two! Tell me, what do you think of Adonis? Is Billie right in treating Adonis the way she did? Is 'the man' right in doing what he's doing? What do you think?
