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In the days of old, a great bloody battle took place in a field overlooking the Arctic Sea. It was the first, and only time that the gods waged war on one another.
For the first time since Prime herself created the planet before ascending permanently to the Aether, the golden blood of the gods touched the earth’s soil. That blood sunk deep, spreading its tendrils- curling and gripping the earth. The rolling hills with tall grass that herds of cattle frequented turned to ash in a matter of hours beforehand, clearing a path for destruction to follow.
Nothing had grown since, and the bones of the God's most loyal human soldiers lingered on the surface.
It was a literal scar on the earth.
The holy texts say that this is when the God of Blood was born, in battle as all warlike gods are. That so much godly blood was spilt on earth that day the bones of the fallen fused together to make a god that embodied blood itself. Despite his Godly status, he was also said to be the most human of the Gods. The blood of humans soaked the earth just as much as the Gods had, which made his Becoming distinctly different from his Aetherian counterparts.
There is still debate among scholars on whether the Blood God would be considered one of war, since his first goldy act ended the War of The Gods then and there, while also forbidding all future battles upon the scarred soil, which was now considered his Holy Site.
“No more blood shall be spilled upon my soil, neither god nor mortal. If any being defies my decree, they shall suffer as my domain will swallow them whole.”
Thus, his word was law. The gods made peace with each other, recalling their forces back to the Aether. The humans in turn traveled back to their kingdoms, carrying the story of the newest god. A couple of centuries had passed and the story had passed along down with it.
Phil never cared much for the Gods. Hell, he'd prefer if they stayed up in their magical realm as far away from him as possible. Nothing good came with messing with them or their stuff, and so he made it a point to avoid their temples and holy sites. He was a nobody truly, and he'd like to stay that way, it's good for his health.
It had been hard to stay inconspicuous with large black wings on his back, but Phil made it work. Avians had been few and far between in the recent century. Hailing from the east, across the Arctic Sea they made their home in the mountains, living in an open city with floating markets. Phil had been born and spent his youth venturing up the mountains and exploring the deep valleys. His ever incessant need to travel took him far from home, into the Kingdom of Essempi. Despite the Kingdom's diverse crowds of both humans and hybrids, any hybrid with predatory features was treated with caution.
So when Phil caught wind of a wealthy merchant who was hiring guards with "unusual features" to escort him safely from the capital to a town right by the shore, he took it right away. Travelling wasn’t as cheap as it used to be, and sometimes his wings had scared off potential clients. Mercenary and Escort jobs had become somewhat of his only option at this point, as his funds had dried up considerably. This job came just in time, and it help that the pay was higher than an average escort job, it could probably fund his travels till the end of the year if he was frugal enough.
Nothing seemed terribly out of the ordinary at first. The caravan wasn't too big, with three horses pulling wagons of goods while one pulled a carriage at the lead. Some other hybrids had already showed up with a total of five including Phil being picked before departure. The spindly merchant with an awkward combover took one look at Phil's wings and he was hired instantly. Thank goodness for small mercies.
The other hybrids that were chosen were a Wolf, a Spider, and a Skeleton hybrid, all of who rode on horseback flanking the caravan throughout the journey, while Phil and the creeper hybrid, walked alongside the carriage. The Creeper had admitted that he was scared of horses and preferred to walk, and Phil didn't want to put extra strain on the horses due to the weight of his wings.
They were about a fortnight into the journey when Phil remembered why he hated merchants. The travel had been very easy up until this point, sticking close to major roads, receiving mild weather, and no attempts at banditry. So, when the merchant had called a meeting to discuss a so-called "shortcut" he had discovered during a scheduled break Phil knew it'd be trouble.
"If we avoid the forest path here and take a sharp left along the ridge, we'll cut travel time in half." The merchant said running his finger along the map.
"Sir are you saying-" one of the other mercenaries spoke up, a meek spider hybrid that wore sunglasses with way too many lenses and hissed whenever he got nervous, "are you saying we travel through The Scar?" He kept fiddling with his glasses making it impossible to tell if he was making eye contact or not.
"That's why I hired you lot in the first place. You hybrids are all cursed, committing crimes against the Gods should be easy for you." The merchant’s yellow teeth shone as his lips pulled back into a smile. Phil’s feathers bristled at the accusation as the rest of the mercenaries stiffen in response.
"So you admit it's a crime then?" The cat hissed out, "The Blood God could rip out your spine and use it as a toothpick, are you sure this shortcut is worth it?"
Others murmured in agreement and the merchant's face grew red with anger. "I didn't realize I hired a bunch of cowards. I thought you'd be thankful that I'd found us a shortcut, no risk of bandits and you all get paid quicker."
"I'd rather face bandits than an angry god any day, I don't care how much this job is anymore I'm out." The Creeper hybrid said hastily, moving away from the group he began to collect his things.
The other three hybrids quickly followed suit and announced their intentions to leave as well before the merchant angrily shouted,
"Fine you cowardly bastards! I don't need any of you!"
He turned to Phil grabbing onto his shoulders so roughly he left half crescent moon indents on his skin. He mentally prepared for the merchant to rip him a new one with threats and bigotry, but instead his voice got real low "Look kid I'm running behind on this shipment and I really needed to get to The Cove like yesterday-" he took a breath before leaning in closer "if you can just get me to there with this shortcut I'll give you what you're owed plus what I was going to pay the rest of those cowards."
As he started listing out numbers Phil knew he was in some pretty deep shit. The only reason he'd stayed alive this long was because of his strong sword arm, a bit of luck, and not fucking with the gods. He couldn't get that number out of his head though. That much money would be enough to fund years’ worth of adventuring and then some if he's lucky.
But he could also die, or have his guts ripped out by a pissed-off deity. What was worth more? Internal organs or years of travel? While Phil was debating his option the merchant had pulled out a chest from one of the carts and opened it revealing priceless gems and gold jewelry that sparkled when it hit the midday sun.
"This should hopefully be a good enough offering to temper his anger in case trouble happens,” The merchant said.
Too many things were stacked in his favor, there was no way this deal could be true. Even if somehow, everything happened exactly according to plan and they pass through The Scar without being ripped apart, who's to say that the merchant will follow up on his deal in the end? But if he is truthful- and luck is on his side, this may be the turning point in his life. Phil made his decision.
"Alright, I'll stick with you." Phil says steely "But if you don't follow up on your end of the bargain and I don't get my money-"
The merchant quickly waived both of his hands "Nonsense! I swear on my honor you'll be compensated appropriately if this all works out." He places a hand over his heart, "you have my word."
"I supposed that'll have to do." Phil sighs once more before taking the merchant's outstretched hand.
"Well come on then! I'm losing money just by standing here, let's go!"
After doing a once over of the caravan, and adjusting the straps on the horses, they set off once more four people lighter.
It wasn't until they reached The Scar that Philza began to have second thoughts.
It’s one thing to hear the stories while inside the safety of the temples, it was another to see it in person. Somehow it was worse in many ways that couldn't be described. The ground was dead and rotting, that part was to be expected, but one thing all the sermons failed to mention was the air. Just before crossing that threshold of living and dead, there had been a pleasant breeze, the sounds of birds chirping tickled the inside of Phil's brain, he had to resist to urge to chirp at them back, as the dirt below his feet crunched.
That first step changed everything, the sounds of life stopped so abruptly Phil had to double-check and make sure that the horses that pulled the caravan still lived. The crunch of dirt that Phil had become accustomed to turned into sharp cracks, like stepping in bones. The bottom of his worn boots was coated in a dusty red like dried blood, and the wind felt just as dead as everything else.
Phil had never felt so on edge in his life, he half expected to be struck dead the second he stepped foot on The Scar, but the farther they traveled as the natural world slowly shrunk out of view, he thanked the gods he wasn't dead yet.
There was something else in the air that he wouldn't pinpoint until later, the total feeling of resignation. As if the land itself had given up the hopes of ever returning to how it was before, and so it just sat in its own misery. Phil definitely didn't understand the Blood God, what kind of creature could he be to have been born in a place such as this?
Ever since crossing the threshold, the journey had been silent. Before, the merchant had tried to make uncomfortable small talk with his last guard, but now it was utter silence. The Scar took about 2 days to cross on foot, which meant that they had to spend the night.
The night hadn't been that much different than the day. The silence remained the same, and Phil had forgone setting a fire- relying on an old pack of jerky to sustain himself. It was dark- and the merchant showed an unusual kindness by letting him sleep inside the carriage after making him leave his blood-covered boots outside. No skeletons were raised from the dead, no monsters prowled through the night, just silence. The morning couldn't have come quickly enough.
The second day’s journey was much of the same until they reached the halfway point. Throughout their entire journey through The Scar, nothing stood higher than a foot of the ground. Mostly it was old bones or a stick from a long-dead tree that disintegrated with even the slightest touch.
When the outline of something tall was seen just beyond the horizon, Phil went on high alert.
It cast a great shadow over the land and standing at the base something moved. Something vaguely human-shaped. Was it just a traveler that got horribly lost? Phil hoped that was it, prayed that it was just a normal human person. Yet there was almost no way that anyone from the Essempi would not know how dangerous it was to be out here, especially alone.
He banged twice on the door of the carriage alerting the man inside. After a few moments, the merchant pushes down the little window and squints angrily at Phil. Before he can get in a word edgewise, he cuts him off and points towards the horizon.
"There's a figure and what looks like a tree up ahead- I suggest we tread carefully so-"
"It must be the Blood God!" The merchant interrupts him. "Who else would be out here? Quick- fetch me my box."
The door to the carriage swings open, just barely missing Phil's face before he makes his first steps onto The Scar's soil. The merchant's beady eyes stare at Phil before he makes a shooing motion.
"Are you dumb? We must have the offering ready!"
Yeah, there is no possible way that he's going to make it out alive.
Grabbing the wooden box from the caravan Phil hands it over to the merchant who snatched it greedily. He opened the box once more confirming the gold was still inside before snapping it shut with a loud click.
"Let's go," the merchants says with a smile "shouldn't keep him waiting for us." He begins to walk towards the horizon.
With each step closer to the figure, Phil could hear the church bells ringing for his upcoming funeral. No one would ever dare label Phil as a coward, yet he felt as if this was as close as he could be to ever become one. The merchant was no better, despite his confident strides and bravado to match, Phil could see has he fumbled with the box, his hands shaking with anxiety.
Hopefully, the Blood God would be merciful and make his death a swift thing, but somehow, he didn't feel so lucky. The closer he got the fuzzier and more unfocused his mind became, as if everything was blocked out except for the figure ahead of him. Phil was so wrapped up in the thoughts of his head that it wasn't until he was almost 100 yards away that he realized something was very wrong.
Instead of an impossibly large god with bulging muscles who could rip his head from his spine with barely any effort, the figure was a kid.
Wild curly blond hair that closely matched the color of Phil's own, twisting and curling in random directions. A brown patched-up coat covered his lithe figure, he looked like he rolled in a patch of dirt. Around his neck was a green kerchief wrapped tightly. He was kneeling on the ground, back faced toward the caravan, clearly not noticing their approach. Planted in front of him was a tree. An impossibly large weeping willow whose limbs stretched far over the land providing shade from the oppressing sun.
How'd a kid get this far out here in the first place? The tree looked as alive as any other tree that Phil had seen yet the fact that it was alive in such a deserted place put Phil on edge. There was something deeply unsettling about the whole thing.
The merchant, subtle as ever, began shouting.
"Wha- you're just a child! Where's the Blood God?" He huffed angrily stomping on the ground like an unruly child himself.
The kid, who looked no older than 17, shot up like a rocket and spun around. He let out an ear-piercing scream so loud Phil flinched involuntarily.
"Ahh! What the fuck! What the fuck are you," his eyes flicked down towards their feet and the kid's shock turned into anger.
"Hey bitch you just stepped all over my fucking peonies! Do you know how long it took to get these bitches to grow?"
What?
Phil's eyes fell towards his feet and saw that he just barely avoided crushing a bright red flower. It was only then that he realized that they were surrounded by flowers. Hundreds of wildflowers all different colors surrounded them, it hardly made a dent in the vastness of The Scar, but there was no way this was possible. The land itself was supposed to be dead, how the hell did this kid find this place? Did he really grow all of these?
"I'm sure they'll grow back just fine." The merchant huffed indignantly. "We are here to pay tribute to the Blood God for safe passage through his lands, but it seems we've made a mistake."
He turns to Phil, "We're leaving.”
"Yeah no your passage is gonna be shit from now on," the kid huffs and crosses his arms. "You trespassed on the Blood God's land and fucked up his sacred flowers. There's no way you're getting out here."
The merchant just laughed at his threat.
"I'm not going to get pushed around by some little kid. I'm sure the Blood God doesn't even know we're here."
“It’s God of Blood not Blood God!” The kid squawks while waving both of his arms.
“What difference does it make?”
Phil cleared his throat, drawing the angry eyes of both the kid and his employer. He could tell that the conversation was headed nowhere, fast. The best thing to do was to try to do some damage control.
"It seems we've all gotten off on the wrong foot here." Phil chuckles nervously while taking a step forward. "My name is Phil, and this is my employer. Is there anything we can call you?"
"Tommy..." The boy says after a few moments while staring him down. The sun reflects in his eyes, the blue was nearly unnatural like his eyes were the sun. Every once in a while, his eyes dart to Phil's wings, and his expression shifts, but only for a second before he's glaring again.
"Look, I'm sorry we were trespassing. We desperately have to make it to The Cove, and this was the quickest way." He says locking eyes with the kid.
"I also apologize for stepping on the flowers. They look quite lovely, you said you grew them yourself?" Phil nodded his head in the kid's direction.
The change of topic was painfully obvious to anyone with even an ounce of diplomatic skill, but Phil hoped that paying attention to Tommy's interests would be enough to catch his attention.
The kid's furrowed brow smooths a bit, and his shoulders drop from their raised position. His eyes still held suspicion, but he seemed to relax at the mention of flowers.
"Yeah, the red peonies are my favorite but they're a bitch and a half to grow. 'Specially since all those Aether bitches fucked the PH level of the soil here so much." Tommy said a matter of factly like he didn't just insult the most powerful gods of the natural world.
"Ah... are you sure you should...?" Phil trailed off, hesitantly looking up at the sky, awaiting Tommy to be struck dead instantly.
Tommy let out a sharp laugh.
"They're a bunch of cowards they are! Besides they're used to my bullshit by now. They wouldn't dare touch me."
Phil couldn't believe what he was hearing. Living a life of travel and adventure meant he'd met and interacted with all sorts of people, but never in his life had he seen someone so eager to spit in the face of the gods without fear. Even with all his misplaced pride, the merchant still held some sort of awareness of fear as he dared to cross The Scar.
This kid either was the stupidest person Phil had ever met, or he was the luckiest person alive for not being struck down by the gods a thousand times over.
"This is a giant waste of time," the merchant scoffed. "I'm losing money by the second because of you." His face flushed red with anger. "Let's get the fuck out of here." Jerking his head, to the side he began to cut a path through the flowers, stepping on everyone in his path.
Phil watched in horror as his employer breezed past him before snapping his head in his direction.
"Hey don't step on the-" Phil started to say before a sharp pain shot through his wing. The merchant grabbed a fistful of feathers as he passed Phil while yanking cruelly.
"Don't you talk back to me birdie," sharp nails dung as he pulled Phil off balance. "I'm in charge here remember? You're lucky I let a freak show like you escort me, you aren't even worth what I'm paying you." The merchant sneered.
Phil let out a sharp gasp of pain as his wing seized up, tiny drops of blood oozed from the base as the merchant continued to yank Phil in the direction of the carriage.
"Let me go!"
Phil flapped his wings angrily, knocking into the merchant. His hold on Phil's wings tightens as he was hit over and over until finally, it was ripped from his grasp and the merchant was sprawled across the ground. The box of gold that he was holding popped open as its content spilled on the ground.
Through his years of adventuring, Phil had sustained many injuries and held a myriad of scars across his body, his wings being the only thing untouched. Unbridled rage filled his lungs as each breath came out ragged. How dare a lowly merchant be the first one to injure his wings, and draw blood at that?
His body shook in raw anger as his blood dripped openly from the wound onto the neat petals of the peonies. He would have to apologize later to Tommy for distorting his hard work once again, a quiet voice in the back of his head reasoned.
But first, it was time that stupid merchant got what was coming to him.
"Oh, now you've done it."
Tommy's voice filled the air. Instead of annoyance and later suspicion that Phil had become accustomed to, he sounded almost bored, like the spectacle that happened before him was something he saw every day.
A quick look at his face revealed that it was far from the truth. His bright blue eyes now shined with such a fury it took everything Phil had not to buckle and collapse along with the merchant. His breath forcibly left his lungs as two miniature suns stared directly into his soul.
Ever so slowly, Tommy stretched out his hand towards Phil.
"Come"
It was such a quiet thing, barely a whisper in the air. Yet the command held so much weight it was impossible to ignore.
His mind felt hazy. Phil's legs began to move on their own accord, crunching the ground beneath his feet. Reaching out his blood-splattered hand, he took Tommy's and held on tightly.
Just then something in his mind exploded. Humming filled his ears, and his vision sharpened all out once. The hair on the back of his neck raised while the feathers on his back bristled. Suddenly he knew everything and nothing. A million miles away a child is making its first cries as it is born. A butterfly lands on a tree. Three hunters successfully kill a boar, they will be the heroes of their village tonight. Blood drips to the ground as the cycle begins anew. Then just as quickly as it happened, the feeling and all the images flashing in his head cease.
Tommy's eyes that were once so hard to look at softened. They still held just as much power, yet the need to submit was no longer present. Instead, it became hard not to look into them, as if they held all the secrets in the world and Phil would gain that knowledge if he just kept looking.
Tommy's expression twisted into something unreadable before turning into a soft smile. "It has been so long since" He sighed, "never mind." Breaking away his gaze, tone changing into something much more serious he continues,
"It's time to watch the show."
Nothing happened at first. The world stood still around them as The Scar always did. The merchant, still on his back struggled to bring air back into his lungs was the only noise that could be heard. Then, just like when Phil's hand met Tommy's, everything happened all at once.
Phil was not a religious man. Despite his numerous prayers to the Blood God over the past few days, he had no master. No hymn spoke to him, no preacher was his guide. All the deities that had hybrids held close to their hearts did not sway him. Phil was as earthly as a man could be. His religion was his sword, and his guide was his wanderlust.
What he saw that day would stay will Phil for the rest of eternity.
The first sign was the distant rumbling of the earth, tremors traveled through the ground shaking violently and dark clouds came rushing from the east.
The circle of flowers was the only thing that remained unaffected from the tremors, as patches of dust clouds rose from the earth everywhere but the circle.
Large sections of the earth began to split in two and tear away from each other, leaving the once even plains uneven and split. It was as if a very big knife cut the land over and over and over again.
Lava begins to come to the surface in between the cracks of the earth. Large bubbles pop and ooze as it grows higher and higher threatening to overflow and cover the earth, yet it never crosses that line.
Next came the lightning. Sharp cracks of green exploded on impact with the ground while neon aftershocks bounced back up into the now blacked sky. Back and forth the lightning jumped from one conduit to the other. The grumbling of the clouds gave way to thunder, never one without the other.
Tommy's hand still holding Phil's from earlier began to squeeze tightly. Casting a glance over, he saw Tommy's eyes grow hard, like a general surveying a battlefield.
"They're coming"
"Who's coming?" Phil asked hesitantly his head still swimming. He was slowly coming to accept the fact that Tommy was not normal, and most likely not human. Despite his childlike appearance, his mannerisms and knowledge of what was happening was a clear indicator. But every time his thoughts begin to trail down that path a sharp pain shoots through his head and all his nerves are set on fire.
Tommy mumbles soft apologies at his pain, but soon even he is ignoring them eyes facing forward. Surely nobody would be braving the storm in this condition. Even a hybrid no matter what their breed would think twice.
Tommy grimaced "The Echoes."
One of the bolts of lightning struck a little too close for comfort. Instead of it bouncing back up like the others, the green energy stayed in place cascading around the ground like a web. The hum of energy began to sound louder as the green shockwaves began to cling together building a human shape. It was then when the humming of electricity began to evolve into a distant voice, a human voice.
"George! You're too slow, come on or else we'll miss the fight!"
The electric green figure's mouth moved at the same time as the words hit his ears. The sound however came faded, like something from a memory.
"We all know you're the fastest dream no need to remind us." A distinctly different voice said. The one born from lightning sounded so very young, like an excitable child. This new voice sounded older but only by a few years, drawing out the consonants in an overly boring way.
"Besides this is war, nothing like the little fights that you and Sapnap get up to."
“Hey!” The green one yells indignantly, “Our battles are wild and totally war material!” He huffs and starts pacing around, “Where is he anyway? He said he wanted to watch his dad fight.”
“I dunno,” says the older one, “we should go find him though, I bet he’s further in.”
The green one starts to jump up in down, causing lighting to crack at each impact. He beings to laugh. “I’ll race you!” He yells as he starts running. The green figure sprints faster than Phil could bling. He was there one moment, the next, he was gone.
Lighting shot off into this distance as the rumbling of thunder followed close behind, leaving nothing in their wake. The ground stilled; dark sky still loomed overhead but the quietness from before the storm came back. The merchant, who was down on the ground the whole time shot up as fast as he could.
“What the fuck was that!? This place is cursed!” Heaving heavy breaths, he began staggering towards the horses still strapped to the carriages under the far side of the tree.
“I don’t think you’ll get very far,” Tommy hummed. “They are coming to get you, you know.”
“I- huh?” The merchant spun around and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I’ve done nothing wrong! I’m innocent.” He began to become belligerent.
“Then tell me,” Tommy’s eyes flashed a brilliant red, “What do you think happens to people who spill blood in the God of Blood’s domain?”
The merchant went white as a sheet “Oh gods, but- but it was his blood, not mine! If he’d only- “
“You were the one who spilled his blood” Tommy interrupted coolly, “You can beg all you want, but the gods no longer hear you.”
The ground began to tremor. As the merchant threw himself to Tommy’s feet a giant crack rippled through the earth, splitting it in two. Phil watched in horror as a giant bone hand clawed its way to the surface. It was nearly as tall as the willow tree was and just as wide. Thousands of bones, broken and splintered came together to form this giant hand, the fingers dug their way into the ground causing large indents as puffs of dirt shot up into the air.
“Oh, gods! Please no!” The merchant cried in anguish. He scrambled away, running towards the carriage before tripping on a bone, jutting out of the earth. Thick boney fingers grabbed onto the merchant as he cried for help. Dragging him against the ground harshly, causing a rut in the earth. The hand then descended back into the crack of the earth where it came from, hauling the merchant in tow.
Cries for help filled the air as Phil looked on in horror. Surely the merchant didn’t deserve this horrible fate, despite how awful he had been?
The hand dragged the merchant under the ground with a loud crack, and the ground swallowed him whole.
The storm that filled Tommy's eyes when they met Phil was something to behold. Little shocks of red speckled his blue eyes in an eerily unnatural way.
Tommy— no,
The Blood God tilts his head up at Phil and says,
"Bit dramatic innit?"
And Phil passes out.
And then Phil wakes up.
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes he sat up, finding himself in a decently sized room. The bed he slept in held soft green bedding with a blanket appearing to be made of sheep's wool. As he stepped out of bed his feet were met with a rug made of the same material. All the essentials were there. A wooden bookcase, desk, and dresser.
The walls were a light cream color with dark green accents around the room's only window. Judging by the height it looked like the building he was in was two stories tall. The window overlooked the Arctic Sea, as well as a small garden. A familiar mop of blond hair popped up from behind one of the bushes, garden shears in hand.
As he saw Tommy something flickered in his senses, like a flame igniting from a match. It was an undeniable pull, like an invisible string linking himself to Tommy. Phil's never been on to stay in one place for too long. His wings grow agitated and there is always an inch in his skin to keep moving. An endless journey, forever a wanderer. Yet when his eyes connect to Tommy's through the window, he begins to feel at peace. Such a foreign sensation, like he's finally coming home.
It's such a startling realization he takes a step back. Tommy's bright smile that bloomed across his face when their eyes had met wanes at his reaction. Suddenly the calm feeling breaks, and waves of concern flood his senses. It only takes a moment before Phil realizes that they are not his own. There's no way that he could've formed a bond so quickly, especially after—
oh
All the memories of the day before hit him like a tidal wave. The ground opening up beneath his feet, the skeleton monster and the blood. A wave of dizziness hits him as he staggers back, sitting down on the bed to regain composure.
There's no way any of that was real. Or was it? The gods are known to have miraculous powers and their domains even more so. So it must have happened, there is no way it didn't. But even so— Philza's mind rejects the concept of what he saw, in his heart, he knows it to be true but his mind breaks it apart into so many tiny pieces it feels more like a dream than reality.
His mind is so rattled that he barely even hears a knock on the door.
"Phil? You alright in there?"
Tommy's voice is heard muffled on the other side of the door. Some shuffling was also heard before he continued,
"I'm coming in"
And the door swings open.
Tommy– The Blood God, Phil reminds himself, still looks roughly the same. He's still in that boyish appearance with the bright blue eyes that he had when they met.
His worn jacket is gone, replaced with corduroy overalls pulled up to his knees and thick black work boots. The shears that he had outside are nowhere in sight. Despite him being a deity, the lack of the sharp object made Phil oddly more comfortable.
"Where are we? What's...?" Phil swallowed, looking around helplessly. Despite the cozy feeling of the room, he felt out of his depth. There was still a magnetizing pull in the air every time his eyes connected with the Blood God. Like he was simply a planet revolving around the sun.
Tommy smiled hesitantly, "Ahh I guess I have some explaining to do, don't I?" He said, scratching the back of his head.
"You kinda passed out after.. you know, so I took you home. You've been out for a few days now."
"Days?"
"You're body's been through a lot, being claimed takes up a lot of energy," he tilts his head up with a thoughtful expression, "I'm honestly surprised you woke up so soon, I thought you'd be out for at least a week."
"What do you mean being claimed? What's going on? I don't—" Phil's head began to spin.
"Hey," Tommy stepped forward grabbing his shoulders and steadying him. "You haven't eaten in a while yeah? Let's go downstairs, I'll explain everything."
Phil's face turned red as his stomach growled. "Yeah," he smiled helplessly, " I'd appreciate it."
It felt sort of surreal sitting at a dining table as an adult, being served food by someone suspiciously younger in appearance, who also happens to be a god. That last part kind of was a sticking point in Phil's mind as he heard pots and pans banging in the kitchen to his left followed by a series of swears.
He'd rather have some food in his stomach before getting unceremoniously dumped six feet under the rose bushes out in the garden.
"You know I'm not gonna kill you, you know. You're not a wrong'un."
Phil's eyes shoot back into focus as a steamy broth is placed directly in front of him. Tommy is settled on the other side aggressively stabbing one of the potatoes in his bowl.
"Why?" Is the first thing Phil finds coming out of his mouth.
"Why what? Why didn't I kill you?"
"No- I mean yes but," he gestures wordlessly at the table and then to Tommy.
"Why all this? I just watched my client get dragged into a pit by a giant skeleton hand and now you're feeding me food? Why am I not dead, I didn't—" he sighs while rubbing the heels of his hands on in eyelids.
"You're the Blood God," he mutters genitive after a moment. "You did something to me and now I feel— I feel like I'm-"
home
safe
warm
Tommy looks at him curiously, like he understands everything that he is trying to tell him but doesn't know if he wants to speak just yet.
He gives Phil a few moments to gather his thoughts while he sips from his mug that has "Plant Dad" plastered on giant green bubble letters on the side before putting it down.
"I didn't kill him ya know" he spoke wistfully, head in the clouds. "The Scar did, I- I didn't do all that"
Phil looked up at him scrunching his brow, "but you made the rule you said no more blood– "
"Yeah yeah I remember what I said, but I'm telling you I didn't do it, The Scar did" He sighs aggressively before pushing his empty bowl forward.
"You don't understand listen," he pauses making eye contact, "you know about the God War right?"
"Mostly, the Gods were fighting about something and tore a bunch of shit up, and then the Blood God- you, were born and stopped them."
Tommy ran a hand through his hair muttering "What the hell do they teach nowadays, no ok look." He sets his hands on the table.
"The Gods are split into two types, Aetherians and Terrians. The Aetherians are Gods who are the children or descendants of Lady Prime, The Holy Creator. They were fighting amongst themselves on whether or not they should keep interfering with you mortals. It became a big spat or whatever and they decided to duke it out."
"Why didn't they just ask Lady Prime? If she's their mom, why didn't they just talk to her?" Phil interrupted.
"Cuz she was sleeping. Making the earth and shooting out a ton of Gods and giving them jobs does that to a person, godly or not." Tommy said. "Oh, boy when she woke up though she laid into them so hard I thought they'd get grounded at least until the next millennium." He seemed to enjoy the thought, giggling.
"Ok, then what about the Terrians? Who are they and what does any of this have to do with The Scar?" Phil's head started to get bogged down with all the facts and details of stuff he never cared much about before.
"If you'll let me get to my point," he glared while Phil holds his hands up placating. "The Aetherians tore up the earth with their fighting. All the anger and negative emotions deeply impacted the land. The Scar is the culmination of all their anger, ever Aetherian that fought, along with all their mortal subjects have left an echo."
"That's what those green and blue figures were then, Echos of the Gods power? Phil mused. Instead of getting upset at the interruption, Tommy just nodded his head.
He was quiet for a few moments before continuing, "I was less born as you humans are and more made. The earth knew she was suffering, if there wasn't an end to their fighting, soon the whole world would be covered like a sickness. Power spreads, and in this case, it wasn't a good thing. The earth cried out, and I was there. Surrounded by powerful Gods, I relayed her message to them. Either stop fighting, or be consumed." The room grew a few degrees colder as he told his story as if the earth was listening in, remembering.
Resting his head on his hand he continued, "They listened, and started hailing me as a God, a Terrian." Tommy waved his hand back and forth, "means from the earth or something I don't fucking know."
He takes a deep breath in, "been here ever since, trying to mitigate the damage The Scar's been doing, even though it's technically my domain, I can't control what it does."
"It listened to you though, didn't it? Eating that merchant I was escorting an all"
"Too bad that the first decree was all that it listens to" Tommy grumbled, "it'll consume people who shed others' blood with ill intent cause of something I said thousands of years ago, but it won't heal itself faster when I yell at it today."
He crossed his arms and huffed indignantly "I even had to claim you just to make sure it didn't try to consume you too!"
Phil chokes "Wait, what do you mean claimed?"
Tommy's face shifts from annoyance to embarrassment. "I- I mean well- I just wasn't sure if The Scar would swallow you up too ya know since the merchant and all a-and, of course, I didn't want that so I" he looked up at Phil like a cat who just got caught with its paw in the cookie tin.
"And what does this, being claimed, do to me..?"
"Ah!" Tommy straightens up "It means you are under my protection, any God who you come across will know that you are Mine, and won't lay a hand on you. You can also live longer if you so choose." He recites it like he was given a script.
"Live longer? As in being immortal?"
Tommy shrugged "Yeah if you'd like!"
Phil winces, eternity is a long time. Would he want to live that long? Outliving the world as he knows it?
"I think I'll pass on that for now, mate"
Tommy smiles at his confession "No bother, there's nothing you don't have to do if you don't want it."
After cleaning up the bowls on the table and making a proper ruckus in the kitchen, Tommy finds Phil standing outside looking wistfully at the sea.
"You probably should rest up a little before you head off, big man. Don't wanna open that would of yours." He said, walking up to meet him.
Phil says Tommy's name and he responds with a light hum.
"You said you've been healing The Scar, It can be healed?" He turns just in time to see Tommy's face giving way to a soft smile, "Yeah, it can. Had to cash in a few favors but it's all working out."
"Can I stay here and help?" Phil turns away so he can't see his expression. Why would a god much less the Blood God need a mortal's help? It's not like Phil's ever stuck around long enough to be able to grow anything.
He feels foolish just by asking but something feels different. Something feels right. He doesn't know if it's just that claiming stuff Tommy was talking about but despite his need to travel it never felt like he had any purpose other than to endlessly wander. Like by he was always a traveler but could never settle down without wasting away. But here he could do something. Something good and impactful that people would like. Something that could help. He felt wanted for the first time in he doesn't know how long and he wants to be able to fix the things that are broken. Fix himself, the earth, anything really. And he wants it so so bad that he can't bear to look back at Tommy's face and see rejection plainly written on it.
So he walks away.
He hears his name in the wind and loud footsteps following him but he can't look around.
A hand grabs his own and a shock of warmth slams into his heart so hard he is forced to push air into his lungs.
He has forcibly turned around and Tommy and his deep blue eyes are staring back at him.
"I said yes dickhead, what are you leaving for?" He pouts.
The warmth doesn't leave and Phil has no response so he just laughs. Loud and clear and hard enough tears fall from his eyes as he says,
"I don't know where I was going, but I'm happy to be home now."