The Loneliest Traid

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  • Published: 2 Apr 2017
  • Updated: 13 May 2017
  • Status: Complete
Love and death and war and Gods and blood and magic and dancing and rest and revenge and kings and fate.
Don't worry, within these three stories you'll know yourself,
And I will put you back together again.

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90. I Hope That You Get Everything You Deserve

Samhain sat up, panting, screams caught in his throat.  He was alone, he was sure that he had just spoken to Daphne and Jinmi, but he was alone now.

    His covers weren’t purple, but an ocean of green.  There was no lavander above his head, but instead branches.  The air was cool on his skin, no stings from the brush of wet air.  His skin was clean now, his clothes pressed, his body so light that he stood without really meaning to.  He had forgotten what it was like to move his tired joints, but he wasn’t so tired anymore.  He felt wide awake, the world so bright he forgot what it was like to live in darkness.  

    He walked, more than steps and stairs.  He found the space where the sun made its way through the trees, and continued on, rubbing along velvet leaves that stung his finger, caught by bees that lapped the sap from tree trunks, and stepping over sprouts of flowers the bloomed so sweet it was almost overwhelming.  Everything was, and he felt light headed just looking at the world that must could know.

    The trees broke into a pond, lilypads as large as beds bobbing along the surface, koi catching flies and sun.  He knew this place, he was sure of it.

    He sat by the water, and dipped his feet to the bottom, where he could feel the mud and reeds and rush curl under his soles.  He realized how thirsty he had been all these years, and like a dying man, reachied into the water and drank it down until he was hiccuping, sputtering.  He felt the air move across his mouth now, wind twisting around his skin and pulling him somewhere he was now free to go to.  For once in his life, he could go, and there was nothing stopping him.

    He lay his head back, and he felt someone come and sit beside him, their body so hot and real, if felt like it was good too to be true.  And although it was, of course, he could ignore that for a while.

    “Hello, stranger,” he heard.

    “Eros!”

    He held each other, laughing until they weren’t, Samhain crying into him and clutching at his shirt, his hair, just to know, to be sure that he was right there, right there for him like he always was.

    “It’s been a long time,” he said.

    Samhain washed the tears from his face, “It has been, and so tiring too.”

    “Are you glad to be sleeping now?”

    “Is that what this is?” he said, suddenly panicking, “All a dream?”

    Eros seemed guilty, to be the one to say this, “It is, I mean - I’m still dead.  But you’ve fallen into a sort of comma.  This is the world your angel made you, and I’ve been waiting for you to get here.”

    “And I can’t leave?”

    “I’m afraid you can’t.  I’m sorry, Samhain.”

    He pulled him close, kissing along his cheeks, just to make it feel real again, “I’m happy here.”

    “You are?”

    “With you, of course.”

    And that was the birth of someone new, Samhain, the God of Love.  He who had dreams of such kindness that he began to create new connections in his sleep.  And no one knew, but then again, no one had to.

    Eros had that kind of effect.  So bright, that Samhain forgot what it was like to live in darkness.

 

    Jinmi built her their cottage in a meadow, as he always promised.  Between the two oceans, beside a small stream that bubbled through the night and kept them awake.  There was nothing there but grass, for miles around.  There was no one looking out for them, no one who could care left in this realm.

    Jinmi never got over the loss of Samhain.  He tried, and he did his best, but he never forgot him and what he left behind.  Sometimes he thought about going back, just once, just to see his face.  But he wiser than he had been, and knew that it mean little more than digging up a corpse.  He never saw his guardian angel again, and he was glad.  A peace settled upon the world and he didn’t think he could be the one to pull up the past again.  Not when his future was the way it was.

    Daphne never healed from what Appalla had inflicted upon her.  Everytime she stepped into the light she winced, knowing that the Gods were watching, even if she wasn’t still alive.  Her flowers never bloomed again, and her bones never fell back into their rightful places, but she became talented at wrapping them in binds that would even out her body’s shattered frame.  Her hair grew back, slowly.  It hung around her shoulders, but was now dry, and unadorned.  

    She finished gardening, an orchard of berries and plum and pears, and flowers that hung overhead like baskets.  She cleaned her hands off in the stream and wiped them dry on her apron.  She did this every evening, and went to walk out into their front garden, that opened into the meadow.  A hilltop house with nothing in the world to see but clouds, the swing, and him.  Their own realm.  

    He had done this for a while now, sat out on the swing he’d tied onto a beach tree, and he’d sit and swing and think.  He’d been riddled with thoughts ever since that day, and he always wondered what would things be like now if he had decided to go another way.  Would Samhain be free to live again, would Daphne be able to see the world and not be trapped in the world that he’d made with his own hands?  And if he was just that bit stronger, could he have chosen a life for himself, not just for those he loved?

    Daphne thought that there had never been anyone like Jinmi before, and there never would be again.  

    And she wa right.

    She’d sit by his feet, and nothing would grow.  They wouldn’t speak, or think of the same thing.  But they’d sit and watch the world go by together, year after year, lifetimes becoming one, and the immortals would sit and watch everything fall down around them, always wondering how things could have been.

    But one day, when the world was born and born again, he rested his hand on her shoulder, just to let her know that he was still there.  And it wasn’t much, but it was healing.  It was something.

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