Divinitas

Divinitas

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Website: http://cruelangel.net/divinitas

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A/N: Just a quick not to say that the Divinitas 2007 Fan Fiction Comp closes on the 1st of April 2007 - more details can be found at http://cruelangel.net/divinitas/competitions.html

Also, I know I haven't really said it here, but I'm grateful to those of you who read and review this story of mine. ^_^ It was really nice to get reviews after my long 2 year absence - thanks much to everyone who welcomed Divinitas and myself back.

MidnightsKeeper: Yes, Ph and Ae do care about each other, but neither really knows how to show it, and Ae is overly insecure, which makes moments that are "worth all the pain" rather rare. XD Maybe in the end... of the sequel? XDDD Enjoy the semi-light-heartedness whilst it lasts. They do seem to swing between extremes often. >_> Maybe they all have PMS. XD

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067 - I'll Be Your Wings

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He knew he was being childish and selfish and confusing. To be intimate one moment, and cruel and hateful the next. It was unfair, certainly, but there was also the argument of ‘why the fuck should he care?’ Why indeed. It was fine, wasn’t it? To be a complete bastard to the person who had ruined his life and stained his soul with blood… and who couldn’t even love him. Truly… love him.

A feral cry welled up from Phoenix’s throat before he could stop it, fingers clawing at an innocent wall just to vent his frustration on something, anything. His emotional turmoil left him wanting to laugh and scream at the same time, pounded on the confines of his skull until it felt like it would burst and squeezed his heart until he cried out in pain.

Staggering into his quarters, Phoenix shut himself up in the bathroom, stripping off his dirtied clothing and submerging himself in a bath for a second time.

The water flow gently around him, wrapping around his wrists where his erratic pulse raced. Slowly, oh so slowly, the water soaked out the tension, the confusion, leaving in their place a soft mellowness. His body slid down the smooth wall of the bath, letting the water creep ever higher up his face, unable to support itself as the mellowness evolved into cold waves and nausea.

It was true, what he said to Aether. Fire and water did not mix. And whilst he did bathe every morning, and enjoyed immersing his often tense body in that heated liquid, prolonged exposure left him feeling faint and always cold, no matter how hot the water was. It wasn’t like this when he was human. Aether was right. Divinity did have its drawbacks. A pair of steady hands hauled Phoenix’s limp body out of the dark pool of water, depositing the youth unceremoniously on the cold marble floor.

Phoenix rolled onto his side, head spinning and body shivering as he coughed violently to retch up the water that had seeped unknowingly into his lungs.

“Are your circumstances so unmanageable that you want to drown your sorrows by drowning yourself?” Draco scolded as he pulled Phoenix to his feet and dried him like a child with a warm clean towel.

I’m not happy. I’m torn… Those were the words on the tip of Phoenix’s tongue, that longed to be released into another’s ear. But the youth just bit his lip, and let the God of Water rub his hair dry.

“Phoenix, I can see how hard this might be on you. I can’t begin to imagine how you must feel. But whatever conflicts you feel, be the God of Fire for now. You’re the only one of us who can influence Aether, so you’re invaluable to the success of this procession,” Draco said quietly, putting aside the towel and passing Phoenix a clean outfit.

The God of Fire tugged it on mechanically, for once not complaining about the skimpiness of his clothing. Draco’s words… how thoughtless. Even though they weren’t meant to hurt, they did.

Am I only good for that? Aether. My whole existence seems to revolve around you. I want my own reason for existence. I want my own life.

“Whatever,” Phoenix muttered, securing the last metal wrist band around his right wrist and looking to Draco. Phoenix blinked, noticing for the first time how… bad the God of Water looked. “I feel like shit… you look it, Draco.”

“…apparently, hangovers do not agree with me,” Draco answered, steering Phoenix out of his rooms. “Unfortunately, your failed attempted to drown yourself has caused you to miss breakfast. Chimaera and Gryps will meet us in the Upper Heart of Genesis to retrieve our weapons, and then we must be going.”

“Yay. Joy.” Phoenix paused. “No! That’s not good! I’m starving! I lost a lot of blood last night! I need food, Draco!”

Draco gave him an unsympathetic look. “We’ll get you something in transit,” was the very unpromising answer Phoenix got in reply.

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The Upper Heart of Genesis had changed since the four Elemental Gods had taken up residence in the castle. No longer was it bare and devoid of decoration. Now the cavernous domed hall played host to four flawlessly formed statues, their wings stretching up to support the curved ceiling high above, their slender arms extended, holding the Divine Weapons like sacrificial offerings.

The ceiling too had changed. Images were faintly outlined there, bleeding into focus. Four deities and four divine beasts, and at the very apex of the doom, a captivating golden eye, shining like the sun.

“Why gold… why not amethyst…” The words slipped from Phoenix’s lips without his realising their existence.

No one heard, except the golden child standing far away at the centre of the room. But Genesis didn’t answer, and gave no sign that it had heard. Instead it just smiled happily in greeting as Draco and Phoenix joined Chimaera and Gryps beneath the great domed ceiling.

“Waa… why is my piccy so faint?” Chimaera pouted, face upturned to the vast ceiling, a world within its own that seemed untouchable to the viewers below.

“A better question would be why is the God of Fire’s so vivid compared to the rest,” Gryps said quietly, silver eyes sliding over the flawless lines and almost real colours, unable to help but admire them with an artist’s eye.

“Because I know Phoenix the best. I get to taste Phoenix lots,” Genesis beamed, latching onto the God of Fire like a overly cute leech.

A series of weird looks were passed between the other three deities.

“Ugh. It probably means I’m the one who spills the most blood in here,” Phoenix muttered, trying to pry the golden child off him, but only resulted in Genesis clinging on tighter and giggling at his efforts.

The God of Air suddenly smirked, Ari appearing in an instance in Gryps’ place. “I understand,” Ari smiled, lifting his hand to the statue with the symbol of air emblazoned on its forehead and calling down his twin daggers. “Blood is our life’s essence, and in this sense, the paint for this vast canvas. Genesis forms our image from us, and is able to do so because we live here within it. Every time we touch its walls, let out voice sound within its rooms and halls, it absorbs a part of us which is captured here. Phoenix’s blood is spilt often by Aether, so compared to the rest of us, Genesis has been able to absorb the most of Phoenix. Like this, no?” Ari asked, lifting a fisted hand and slashing his dagger up his arm, wrist to elbow, before violently throwing it out in a wide arc.

The sharp movement cast the shower of blood in a wide half circle on the reflective marble floor, the sound of falling rain gracing their ears as the vivid red liquid landed. For a long moment, the blood simply glistened in the light that flowed from the very walls of the room, sitting upon the cold floor, cooling. And then it slowly seeped into its reflection, finally disappearing from visible existence.

Looking back up at the image that represented the God of Air and his Divine Beast, one could see the difference. The more solid form, the more intense colours. It suddenly seemed more real.

“Am I right, or am I right?” Ari smirked, sheathing the dragger at his thigh.

Phoenix rolled his eyes, giving up on trying to dislodge Genesis and lifting his arm to call down his own Weapon of Fire. The weight of the blade settled against his palm, and automatically his fingers wrapped around the hilt in a familiar embrace.

“You shouldn’t so casually hurt your body like that,” Draco commented, sheathing his own long sword in the scabbard hanging down his back.

“Ah, but if I do not, who will? I wouldn’t want to deny my beloved other half the experience of pain. I would think he would hate me for that,” Ari whispered with an insane smile before turning on his heels and striding out.

“Do you ever wonder what goes on inside that head of his?” Phoenix pondered out loud as he half dragged Genesis along the ground to follow the others.

“I make a conscious effort not to,” was Draco’s flat reply.

The group gathered out in front of the Castle of Genesis, the same place where Phoenix gained his first impressions of the immense castle. What a difference sunlight made. A contrast of darkness and light. Now with the white-streaked blue sky high above, and sunlight warming the stones, it seemed a grand place. The four guardian stone beasts were warm to the touch, and seemed only protective, rather than threatening.

For a moment Phoenix stood there and looked back at the place that had become his home. ‘Do you hate it?’ whispered his soul from some dark place. ‘No.’ And he didn’t. He just longed for something… more.

The servants and teachers, old and new, had gathered there to see them off. Only Casimir was missing, and Aether. But there was no doubt in Phoenix’s mind the latter would come.

Chimaera was tugging on Draco’s sleeve, an excited puppy even though his body looked close to the others’ true age. “Ne, ne! How are we going? Where are we going? Are we going yet?”

The elder let the younger tug, knowing from experience that trying to pry him off was useless, something Phoenix should really learn since the other was once again trying to wrench Genesis off his now aching arm. “We’re going with our Divine Beasts. They’re the only mode of transport that is fast enough. Our first destination is Anglia. And no, please don’t ask me where that is; the best I could do is point north-west. You’ll see when we get there.”

“So can we go yet?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We’re waiting for Lord Aether.”

“Why?”

“…”

Anglia. The name of that country stirred up forgotten memories. That was… no, not home. Birthplace. Just his birthplace… And his burial site.

“It doesn’t matter now, God of Fire,” Gryps’ soft voice said quietly.

A glace at the silver haired youth revealed the lighter half had returned, cool and distant as ever. Slender fingers absentmindedly traced the path the dagger had taken up his arm as silver eyes glanced into Phoenix’s crimson ones.

They shared that much in common. Their country of birth. One of fire, one of air. Yet worlds apart. One had been revered, placed on a pedestal, groomed and showed like a beautiful expensive pet. The other, not even fit to be thrown into the gutter as trash. But both had never been treated by others as themselves… only as what their birth had labelled them. That too, they shared.

And now, to return to the place where they had lead such lives… as gods. Did it really not matter? Their roles might have changed, but that was all, wasn’t it. Still no one would know them for themselves, just their status, just the role they played. And played so unwillingly, in Phoenix’s case.

Gryps took a step closer to the fire deity, then thought better of it and stopped. Distance was always better kept between him and any other person. “When I played herald and visited Anglia’s capital, no one recognised me. No one dared even to look in me the eyes. So… it doesn’t matter. What has happened in the past, or how we were treated.”

The God of Air’s well meant words did little to soothe Phoenix. Anger and fear may be suppressed, but it would still be there. Fire might keep you warm, and light the way at night… but its benefits were all lost in a sea of blame and accusations as soon as a little flame sparked a life devouring inferno.

Disengaging from Gryps, the God of Fire briefly closed his eyes, calling upon the Divine Beast of Fire sleeping at the bottom of his soul. It rose from the depths, awakening from a state of half-sleep, and lit like a flame on Phoenix’s upturned palm.

It was tiny, and seemed content to be so, preening as Genesis giggled at it and called it pretty and sparkly.

Gryps made an insulting noise. “You aren’t honestly thinking of having that little thing carry you, are you? You’d probably squash it,” the God of Air smirked as currents swirled around him to reveal his majestic silver and white griffin.

“Are you saying I’m fat?!” Phoenix snapped back whilst the little phoenix hopped up onto Phoenix’s shoulder chirped angrily.

Silver eyes rolled at him. “Are you saying you’d preferred to be called a poor starving street rat who doesn’t even weigh enough to squash a fluff ball?”

Daggers flew between them until Phoenix noticed his clothes were smoking. Nearly having a heart attack at the prospect of another set of burnt clothing, Phoenix shoed his little bird into the air and patted his shoulder feverishly to smother out the burning threads.

“Don’t laugh!” Phoenix glowered, lifting his hand to call the little phoenix back to him. “How am I meant to let it carry me without getting my clothes burnt?”

“Because it would be tragic if your clothes did burn off, wouldn’t it? Everyone would go blind from the sight of your naked self.”

“Oh shut up!”

“Really, have you just asked your fluff ball to not burn?”

“…no.” Just about now Phoenix kinda wished the earth would open up and swallow him. For Heaven’s sake, he was the God of Fire… why hadn’t he thought of that? A silent commanded, translated by the Weapon of Fire held within his hands, and the tiny phoenix’s flaming plumage solidified, becoming feathers of rich red and gleaming gold. Carefully, Phoenix prodded the little bird up to his shoulder where the first of his material clothing began (yes, he was indeed that under clothed), and heaved a silent sigh of relief when his preciously scant clothing didn’t burst into flames.

Another wishful thought, and the Divine Beast of Fire evolved into its full size, its magnificent tail glistening like gold in the sunlight, and the red eyes gracing the end of each tail feather like a beautiful star burst.

“You look more pretty like this,” Phoenix said with a crooked smile. Always it had been made of flames. Like an apparition, but now made solid in flesh and feathers and blood. “People might love you and want to steal you if you had always been like this… Fire and flames just make them fear being burnt.”

The phoenix trilled, and then went about preening itself, ignoring Phoenix who couldn’t help but admire his Divine Beast’s new form.

A sudden silence among the servants and teachers caused the four Elemental Gods to look back towards the entrance of the castle.

The knot of emotions that welled up in Phoenix’s throat caught him by surprise, seeing Aether standing there, dressed up like some Prince of Darkness, all glittering and black. He was stunning. No, that was too weak a word. Breath taking, drool-worthy. That was slightly better. No wonder Deus was obsessed with him. And… and… Aether… was… is… No, don’t think it, much less say it.

Their God of Soul made his way down the wide front steps, ignoring the servants and retainers who bowed to him as he passed. Dressed in his finest clothing of black velvet, trimmed in rich purple and embroidered with gold thread, he stopped in front of his four Elemental Gods, glaring, a sulky child who had been made to dress up just to attend a boring event by fussy parents.

The sunlight glancing off Aether’s full golden hair caught Phoenix’s attention, brought his eyes to the earring Aether wore in his ear. Both his earlobes had been pierced, and both bore glittering amethyst coloured gems. But from one of them dangled a further adornment. A small inverted cross, that matched his own pendant’s design. Only the gem was different. Where his was blood red, Aether’s was amethyst to matched his left eye. Somehow, it was a comforting, calming, to see amethyst there, and not gold.

“Lord Aether,” Draco greeted with a half bow, stepping forward to meet their unwilling God of Soul. “I’ve taken the liberty of making arrangements for all our clothing. They’ve been packed and our Divine Beasts will have no issues with carrying them,” the God of Water detailed, gesturing to several small trunks that Chimaera was trying to secure onto his chimera’s back. “The places along our procession route have agreed to-”

“More like fell over themselves offering,” Gryps (or was it Ari?) smirked.

“-provide whatever else we need,” Draco continued, unflinching. “Because I intended for us to travel via our Divine Beasts, or in your case, via your wings, I made no arrangements to bring any servants. Are these arrangements acceptable?”

It was just the smallest dilation of the pupil, the smallest twitch around the visible eye. But it felt like a slap in the face.

The others didn’t know. They didn’t guess.

One moment, he was standing with his pretty phoenix, observing the exchange half heartedly, eyes more intent on drinking up the golden shine of Aether’s being.

The next, his right hand was raised, fingers flared out in a silent offering to his God of Soul.

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End 067, continued in 068.

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