This was written for Round Two of the RWBY Inn Scramble. Prompt: Creation. Character: God of Darkness.
With a growl, the self-styled "god" of Darkness waved a claw through a matrix of coalescing magic. The elements split apart, drifted away from each other, and faded to nothingness.
Drumming his draconic claws against the ground with one hand, Darkness reached out with his other arm and scratched a tally mark into the bark of a tree. There were 18 tally marks before it.
It had sounded so easy, when Darkness and his brother Light had agreed to this idea. They still didn't seem to be approaching the limits of their burgeoning powers, and among the best ways to develop those powers was to try new things– in this case, by exploring each other's specialties. At the same time, they wanted ways to automate their duties, to put in place systems that would continue Creating or Destroying without the gods' constant attention, so that they could focus on other things.
And so their experiments had begun… with a false start. Light's first attempt had given beings the ability to generate new versions of themselves. It'd sounded good in a vacuum, but without any limits or constraints on that reproduction... well, Darkness had been very busy cleaning up that mess.
Light had graciously agreed to let Darkness have the next crack at it. It was Darkness' turn to try and create something… something that would keep destroying for him without his oversight.
Had that been grace on Light's part? Or had that been the trap? Because it felt like Darkness had been laboring over this being for an eternity without making much headway.
Creation was easy. Light's experiments had proved that. Anything with the right parts could create. But creating with purpose, creating something specific to fill a particular need, was vastly more difficult.
Especially since Darkness wanted to get this right the first time. He didn't mind destroying things; that was his very nature. The old always had to make way for the new, or nothing new could ever be. Still, there was something wrong, something upsetting about the notion of wiping out the new because it had been a mistake, through no fault of its own. No, Darkness had decided, he'd rather do this once; he would know in advance he'd done it right, rather than let the world make that judgment.
Which, again, was harder than it looked.
Light appeared next to him. "Any progress?" Darkness's brother asked him.
"Oh, yes," Darkness said. "I've got the principles of the design nailed down, it's just some finishing touches now."
Light didn't convey emotion with his face, as his present form didn't have one. Darkness felt the doubt emanating from his brother anyway. Light ostentatiously looked in the direction of the tree and the rows of tally marks there. "I see," he said.
"It'll take longer with you there distracting me," said Darkness, letting his annoyance bleed into his voice.
"We wouldn't want that," said Light, and Darkness couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not. He stepped away before Darkness could ask, and solitude came upon him again.
Taking an unnecessary breath (as a being of magic Darkness chose to breathe rather than needing to, as the sounds air could make were wonderfully expressive), he began again.
In truth, he had made progress. There were decisions he was satisfied with to this point.
His avatar of destruction needed to be something different, something alien from the rest of the Ever After. Many Afterans, maybe even most of them, were fuzzy and soft; his avatar would be scaly and hard. Afterans were by and large round and pudgy; his avatar would be angular and lean. Most Afterans could persist in their roles and duties indefinitely, needing little in the way of rest or sustenance. His avatar would always, always hunger.
With each thought, magic sprang into being, wavered in the air before Darkness like a fluttering flag. Threads of it criss-crossed before him, creating new colors and textures at every intersection.
And hung there, inert.
It would have been so much easier if the threads would weave themselves. Why couldn't they just come together all on their own? Darkness stared at them for some time with frustration at the fact that they wouldn't move, that he would have to be the one to decide how they came together, amidst a growing certainty that he would somehow do it wrong.
Darkness reached out with one claw, adjusting the weave this way and that... until, ready to touch it again, he hesitated.
Was he choosing these contrasts for aesthetic purposes? Just to be different? He knew he and Light had different ideas on how to go about their respective businesses; their different perspectives, they were understanding, was one of their great strengths. Other communities of Afterans were far too homogeneous, far too same-thinking; even if they'd had the brothers' power they wouldn't think to do anything with it.
But Darkness didn't want to be different just for the sake of being different. Design with purpose, create with intent.
Stacking pressure after pressure upon himself.
He flattened his paw to wipe the magic away again, and again paused before completing the gesture.
No… no, it was better this way. His Avatar should be feared. It should stand out to other creatures, should be alien and different and scary. They should want to avoid it or escape it or fight it off.
And that meant it should be instantly recognizable as an enemy, as an Other.
Darkness smiled when he realized what this meant. It meant the destruction caused by his creation would be only part of its impact! Just the specter of his avatar existing would prompt the other Afterans to take action, one way or another. Fear of this being would cause other creatures to change for the better.
Was that not itself a form of creation? Was that not the brothers' goal - to have the beings in their world continue to create by their own agency?
If Darkness did this right, this being might have more impact by the threat of its destruction than by the actual destruction it caused.
His creativity spurred, Darkness pushed on, threading new magic into the matrix, weaving life into his design, each pass easier than the last.
If the biggest impact of this thing was the threat it represented… then Darkness ought to play up its fear factor, and also its conspicuousness. Especially at first, unleashing a fully empowered agent of annihilation would cause enormous destruction, but no fear. Fear required survivors. Fear required signs and warnings. If the goal was random annihilation, then no amount of power could be seen as too much, but if the goal was to add elements of self-regulation to this world, then he needed to make it not too strong. Terrifying and deadly, yes, but also avoidable and beatable.
It needed to be the opposite of stealthy.
Just like that, Darkness saw the answer, like a gem emerging from inky waters. He would make his creation noisy, distinctively so. It would speak in a manner that announced its presence and intentions, in unique ways all beings could recognize and fear. And that recognition would give the residents of this world a fighting chance.
The magic coalesced, became tangible, and Darkness felt a thrill as his creation took form.
It would jabber.
Yes, because it would be the Jabber Walker.
Light and Darkness looked down at the Ever After from a magical perch on high. There had never been such a thing as the Jabber Walker in this world before, and this settlement was completely unprepared for it.
Beings fled the town in all directions. Behind them, sounds of tearing flesh burned into the ears of the survivors.
Darkness was pleased. This was working exactly as intended. He'd done it. His satisfaction was immense.
"It's a little.. cruel, don't you think?" said Light. As he often did, Light had adopted a faceless form to hide his reactions, but his voice betrayed him.
"Of course it is," said Darkness. "That's the point."
"It's too brutal," said Light with a shake of his head. "It doesn't need to be so vicious to do its job. We should try again."
He raised a golden hand. Darkness felt the magic there, the powers of destruction his brother held just as easily as he wielded creation... but far more casually.
Darkness swatted his brother's hand away. "What are you doing?" said Darkness. "It's performing exactly as I designed it."
"Your design is overkill," said Light.
"No," said Darkness. "It's the opposite. It's underkill, and on purpose. It's less dangerous and more grotesque than it could have been, and that's perfect."
The brothers gave each other eyeless stares as the gory feast below continued.
"We want a world of self-regulation, right?" said Darkness. "A world where the business of creation and the business of destruction continue on their own logic."
"Of course," said Light.
"Then my Walker is the perfect tool for the job."
"I don't understand," said Light.
Darkness didn't have the words to explain. How didn't Light see it? It was obvious, so obvious that Darkness couldn't articulate it. How could he explain something so self-evident?
As valuable as the differences were between Darkness and Light, at times like this it seemed like nothing could bridge the gap between them. It was maddening. The Jabber Walker was everything Darkness had hoped for and more, and Light didn't get it.
"Hungry, ravenous, famished, driven," said the Jabber Walker down below. "Searching, finding, ripping, shredding, consuming."
Darkness felt his brother's disapproval with every word the Walker spoke.
"Don't be upset with it," Darkness said. "Don't blame it for acting exactly as programmed. If you disapprove, disapprove of me."
Light stared another moment– a moment both too long and too short, time being arbitrary to beings like this– and then shook his head. "Very well. For your sake, I'll let it be. But the next time we go to create things that are wholly new, we'll do it together."
That… hadn't been Darkness' goal, yet he couldn't view that as anything less than miraculous success. It was even more satisfying than the success of the Jabber Walker.
He nodded.
"I accept."