Ezra's Song

A cream colored cat much like their own entered the room. Ezra's eyes followed her until she stopped in front of the couch to bathe herself. The young poet frowned, the cogs in their brain working overtime, until Benji greeted the cat.

"Right," Ezra whispered, more to themselves than to the room, "we have the same cat." They let out another breath of amusement, before focussing their attention back to the other demigod.

"I wouldn't tell you no...I mean I wouldn't say no....if you asked." He spoke clearer, with a bit more confidence. Ben enjoyed the nights when Ezra slept over. Sometimes Ben would wake up in the middle of the night snuggling the other. He'd carefully pull away as he didn't want to push boundaries at all.

"I kinda hoped the summer gala was. A date... I guess I just never picked up on the clues? If there were any?"

Ezra stopped themselves from speaking further as they rethought that statement. Truthfully, the young hopeless romantic had always felt like there must've been more between the two, but was too afraid to say anything. Too afraid to make the first move. Afraid it might've been a wrong move. Ezra wasn't big on taking risks. And look where it got them.

"Actually..." they corrected themselves, "I think I was scared. Scared to get my hopes up, scared you wouldn't want me."

They slowly moved to the couch, where they planted themselves in the corner, making themselves as small as they could, knees up and hands folded in front of their mouth. Their body was tense and their breath heavy, trying to focus on the room they were currently in. It was hard to keep their mind from wandering back to the darker places.

It almost did, until the room smelled of cinnamon and ginger. The scent grounded the poet a bit, their eyes lighting up with nostalgia and warmth. The demigod changed their position, sitting now crisscross, reaching for the mug that was sat down on the table in front of them. They wrapped their fingers around the ceramic mug and inhaled the sweet vapor deeply. Taking a small sip, they let the warmth seep into their body, grounding them even further.

He didn't notice the surge of energy as soon as he was near Ezra. Ezra was already punishing themselves enough with how bad they were feeling. Taking a sip he breathed in before letting out a big sigh. "Y'know, I would hope I'd be here...it...is my home." He teased slightly, giving a smirk that formed into a smile.

A cream colored cat much like their own entered the room. Ezra's eyes followed her until she stopped in front of the couch to bathe herself. The young poet frowned, the cogs in their brain working overtime, until Benji greeted the cat.

"Right," Ezra whispered, more to themselves than to the room, "we have the same cat." They let out another breath of amusement, before focussing their attention back to the other demigod.

Benji's voice was slow and quiet. His body language shifted and made his body more open and easier to see for Ezra. He slouched a bit, showing that he was relaxed, and not tense. His hands open with the palms facing up and outwards and slightly to the sides of his body. Soft nods from a face that had a matching facial expression. Ben felt gross using techniques that he learned from work but he also knew that they worked - and he hoped that it would help here as well.

The nurse was at a loss of words otherwise due to everything that was just trauma dumped onto him. Not that he didn't mind - he just wasn't expecting that suddenly. As he waited for Ezra to move he kept going over everything in his head - They were in crutches when they met again, that was after....Ben's throat swallowed hard but he cleared his throat in hopes attention would be averted. "Sorry. Dry throat." And it was indeed dry.

Ben went for the fridge right away and grabbed a energy drink out of habit. His body was still getting used to doing anything but night shifts, and it had been months since his last night shift. Once he quickly drank most of the can he began setting things up for tea. Ben got out two cups from the cupboard and then began looking for a tea for himself. He chose Sleepy Time tea. He chuckled a bit at the irony of him just downing a energy drink and then drinking this tea. Humming he looked around and found the chai that he had bought Ezra for a gift but then chickened out on gifting it.

They slowly moved to the couch, where they planted themselves in the corner, making themselves as small as they could, knees up and hands folded in front of their mouth. Their body was tense and their breath heavy, trying to focus on the room they were currently in. It was hard to keep their mind from wandering back to the darker places.

It almost did, until the room smelled of cinnamon and ginger. The scent grounded the poet a bit, their eyes lighting up with nostalgia and warmth. The demigod changed their position, sitting now crisscross, reaching for the mug that was sat down on the table in front of them. They wrapped their fingers around the ceramic mug and inhaled the sweet vapor deeply. Taking a small sip, they let the warmth seep into their body, grounding them even further.

The deafening silence was replaced by heavy music, the tension was thick and Ezra was left speechless as Ben spilled his thoughts and feelings. Processing the words being said – and the ones that weren’t being said – feeling like a horrible person by the end of it. The poet hadn’t thought about how this all affected Ben.

They imagined this to go differently. They wanted to explain, to say their piece, but most importantly; apologize. But they were unable to get a word in. Maybe that was for the best for now, maybe they should just listen.

Each word Benjamin spoke felt like a slap in Ezra’s face. Tears were forming in their eyes, but they refused to let them fall. They were selfish… Disappearing like that was selfish. And the main thing they realized through this speech – Ben just proved them wrong; The demigod had stopped communicating with everyone in their life, because they thought no one would care.

Benji cared. Or at least he seemed to care.

The car pulled over sooner than Ezra anticipated. They hadn’t even questioned where the two were going. Looking up, they recognized the building immediately, and somehow, they weren’t surprised the older demigod brought them there. Still speechless, the younger followed Benji inside, all the way up to his apartment. All the while trying to gather the words they had apparently lost at the hospital.

Inside Benji’s unit, Ezra took a deep breath, finally ready to speak their own mind, when--

"Give me 10 minutes."

Alright, the Egyptian demigod thought with a sigh, I can wait 10 more minutes... Theyjust nodded in response and went to browse the other’s shelves when he disappeared into his bedroom. To kill the time. To distract themselves from their anxiety. Oh how they would’ve loved to follow him into the room. But Ezra knew more than anyone how that wasn’t appropriate. They were told to wait, so they respected that. And waited.

Those ten minutes felt like an eternity as Ez paced the room. The words they wanted to say bouncing around in their anxious mind, when suddenly the door opened again. The poet couldn’t help but eye Ben’s naked torso up and down, their face turning beet red in the process. They needed to focus. Because what they were about to discuss was a serious matter. Gathering all their courage – Ezra was gonna need a lot of it with how personal they were gonna get – and was once again ready to speak. And after Ben made his point very loud and clear – those final words hurt particularly bad – the younger demigod took a deep, shaky breath. And although they had originally planned to not be at their most vulnerable, Ben had told his truth, so it was only fair if they returned the favor.

All he did was listen, he didn't say anything. Ben felt light headed suddenly while listening. Everything was making more sense but he still tried to listen to Ezra as much as he could. Grabbing onto the counter he nodded, trying to signal Ben was paying attention still. "I'm sorry -" He spoke, looking at Ezra with soft eyes.

He wasn't looking for sympathy or anything but there was so much Ben couldn't even ask, nor that he wanted to. How do you talk to someone who just poured all of that out. Looking down at his hands he chewed his lip. "That sounds incredibly difficult to go through."

Looking up he moved towards Ezra slowly. "Thank you for telling me. That must have been really scary to tell me." Ben reached for the other's hand but then pulled away. "You weren't wrong, and I understand what you did...why you did..." He nodded softly, trying to give a smile - he wasn't sure what level of smile he should do but he hoped it was a reassuring kind.

As they reached the jeep, Ezra hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But when Ben opened the door and gestured for them to get in, they obeyed silently, sliding into the passenger seat. His terse words hung heavy in the air, and Ezra felt a pang of regret for causing him distress.

"You didn't have to call off... I'm sorry," Ezra said quietly, not looking up at the other. This was not what the poet had wanted. To cause drama or problems for Ben's job. But what did they expect showing up like that?

Messing with some buttons he put on Hail to the King by Avenged Sevenfold before taking the jeep out of park and driving off. He didn't say anything, just drove around for a bit as the songs shuffled through heavy base songs.

"I keep my private life, private...but I talked about you often." He finally spoke, but he kept his eyes straight in front of him. "I talked about you, at work to my residents...to families and coworkers... so when suddenly I can't answer the questions - I don't know how they are - I don't know what they did this weekend. I don't know. I don't know! I don't know why they won't answer my texts. I don't know why they won't answer my phone calls. I don't know why they would just not respond to me for weeks. And then suddenly come back as if nothing happened and not understand why it's an issue...and then come to my work suddenly with no warning or nothing. And expect me to be okay with it." Ben didn't take a breath for the whole rant, and he realized as his lungs started to burn. He breathed in deeply, he held onto the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white.

"I like you. I like you a lot. I like having you around when it's quiet. Even if you are quiet, I know you're still there and it's comforting." His voice was quiet - he didn't realise what he was saying until it was too late. "I like having you in my life...and then suddenly you were ripped out. I had no idea. I didn't know anything...I didn't know if you were alive or dead...and then...you came back. Like it was nothing." Ben stopped the car. He didn't even realise that they were now at his aparatment buliding. Letting his knuckles go, the colour returned to normal. He grabbed all his items and walked to the door. He wasn't saying anything to Ezra.

Ben waited for them at the door, letting them go first after opening each door for them into the apartment building then his front door. Ben couldn't help but check Ezra out as they walked past. He breathed in and got a wiff of the other's smell. Whatever they were wearing. He closed the door behind himself and locked it before kicking his shoes off- he treated his home like his aunts house. They didn't wear shoes in the house often.

"Give me 10 minutes." He looked at Ezra, his voice quiet and dark. Ben went to the bedroom, wishing Ezra would follow but knowing that it wouldn't be a good idea. The demi-god turned around and shut his bedroom door before almost locking it. Ben decided against it - it was Ezra. He had a quick, very hot shower and tried to wash away the morning and everything that just happened.

He walked out in grey sweats and no shirt, well it was in his hand but not on his torso. Ben's skin was still slightly pink - an indicator as to how hot the shower really was. How was the god supposed to deal with these emotions? Eros needed a visit - that was for sure.

"I...Growing up. I lost everyone. I lost my mom, my little sister who didn't even get to see the world...my dad..." He mumbled before looking at the shirt in his hand. "My aunt and uncle...back in New Orleans..." Ben was white knuckling the shirt again, but so intense his hand was shaking.

"I lose everyone...and I was convinced I lost you too."

Ben's voice faltered as the tears flooded his eyes before falling down his face.

The deafening silence was replaced by heavy music, the tension was thick and Ezra was left speechless as Ben spilled his thoughts and feelings. Processing the words being said – and the ones that weren’t being said – feeling like a horrible person by the end of it. The poet hadn’t thought about how this all affected Ben.

They imagined this to go differently. They wanted to explain, to say their piece, but most importantly; apologize. But they were unable to get a word in. Maybe that was for the best for now, maybe they should just listen.

Each word Benjamin spoke felt like a slap in Ezra’s face. Tears were forming in their eyes, but they refused to let them fall. They were selfish… Disappearing like that was selfish. And the main thing they realized through this speech – Ben just proved them wrong; The demigod had stopped communicating with everyone in their life, because they thought no one would care.

Benji cared. Or at least he seemed to care.

The car pulled over sooner than Ezra anticipated. They hadn’t even questioned where the two were going. Looking up, they recognized the building immediately, and somehow, they weren’t surprised the older demigod brought them there. Still speechless, the younger followed Benji inside, all the way up to his apartment. All the while trying to gather the words they had apparently lost at the hospital.

Inside Benji’s unit, Ezra took a deep breath, finally ready to speak their own mind, when--

"Give me 10 minutes."

Alright, the Egyptian demigod thought with a sigh, I can wait 10 more minutes... Theyjust nodded in response and went to browse the other’s shelves when he disappeared into his bedroom. To kill the time. To distract themselves from their anxiety. Oh how they would’ve loved to follow him into the room. But Ezra knew more than anyone how that wasn’t appropriate. They were told to wait, so they respected that. And waited.

Those ten minutes felt like an eternity as Ez paced the room. The words they wanted to say bouncing around in their anxious mind, when suddenly the door opened again. The poet couldn’t help but eye Ben’s naked torso up and down, their face turning beet red in the process. They needed to focus. Because what they were about to discuss was a serious matter. Gathering all their courage – Ezra was gonna need a lot of it with how personal they were gonna get – and was once again ready to speak. And after Ben made his point very loud and clear – those final words hurt particularly bad – the younger demigod took a deep, shaky breath. And although they had originally planned to not be at their most vulnerable, Ben had told his truth, so it was only fair if they returned the favor.

cont. from an sns thread with the same name with @mpxinvidia

Ezra picked up their tote of the floor and went to the front to pay for the books they had picked. Ten pretty hefty ones, sure to keep the literature student entertained for the next couple of weeks.

As they stepped out of the store, ballparking the amount of books scattered around their home, their phone pinged.

Say less, be there in twenty

Remembering the mess that was the poet's entire appartment - books and notebooks scattered everywhere to start - Ezra's eyes widened. They thought the other would come around maybe tomorrow. Or a week from now. The Egyptian demigod quickly assesed the situation mentally, and came to the conclusion they could make their home presentable for guests if they hurried.

Cool, see ya then!

The young student made a quick stop at the grocery store for some snacks and cat food, then rushed home. Instead of just kicking their shoes off and leaving them where they landed, they put the pair of sneakers away on the shoe rack. And picked up one of the many stray books laying around. Eleven.

They made their way to the kitchen, opened a cabinet - twelve, thirteen, fourteen - and put some of the groceries away. Then they turned to the fridge - fifteen?! - to put away the drinks.

Risha greeted her owner with a soft meow, to which Ezra responded with a soft pat on her head. "Yea, yea, food's coming," they chuckled. First filling up the food bowl, then cleaning the cat's litter box.

Since company was coming over soon, the enby demigod left their bedroom for what it was and focused on the living room. Tidying it up generally. Picking up books, both read and unread, and putting them where they should go. The ones they had started - three, making eighteen - they left on the coffee table. The rest went back on the many shelves - twenty, making thirty-eight. Craming those books into the tiniest of empty spaces on their shelves, Ezra realized they probably needed more of them. They looked around trying to figure out where to create more space. But their apartment wasn't infinite...

That was gonna be a problem for future Ezra.

   Invidia sits straight up from the giant lounge cushion he was draped across when he sees the message from Ezra.

   Cool, see ya then!

  WAIT FOR REAL?! He was expecting the other to play it off and say some other day worked better and that was only after the fuller expectation of them to skirt it in a way that implied that it just wouldn’t work really at it. Invidia is not only not home, but he’s not dressed right for the meeting by any means. He starts to stand only for his body to be pulled back down by the arms of others that wish to keep him cuddling on that lounging spot. Carefully, but quickly, he untangles the arms from his person and stands.

  “Let me go you succubus,” he teases playfully to the friends that lay there before he’s running from that lounge and back to his work room. 

   Time is of the essence now and with great haste the sinner flies down the hall and then up the stairs that ascend him to where his room is. Once there he hurries out of his robe, tossing it aimlessly as he reaches for the regular clothes he keeps in the closet. This is one of the moments that Invidia is grateful that his profession allots him the skill to both undress and redress himself quickly. It’s a mere moment before he’s got the ensemble of black trousers, a clean green button down shirt and sharp black shoes. Stopping at the mirror of the vanity he checks his face and hair before switching out the black earrings he had in for a set of emerald set in gold to match his shirt better.

   Then he’s out of the room, down the stairs all the way down before he’s tossing a quick explanation behind him, “Stepping out!” 

   A quick drive in the car -with the GPS on of course- leads him to his friend’s house in just a few more minutes. As he pulls up he’s only two minutes behind the twenty he promised and he is thankful that though he was going just a little fast, he hadn’t been stopped.

About ten books ago, Ezra realized they probably should've reorganized their shelves as they counted. Not for their own sake, as they could find any book in a matter of seconds, no matter where in their apartment it was, but for the sanity of anyone else visiting - because let's be honest, it didn't make sense for 1984 to be next to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, but that's where Ezra last put them after finishing those books. And with 134, 135, 136 books counted, they could not possibly bring themselves to start over.

I don't really want to do this again, though... Ezra thought to themselves as they just came across Pride and Prejudice (137), The Martian (138), and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (139). They didn't need to do this at all, really. Their brain was like a catalogue of books, always at the ready.

But what about guests... 140... 141... 142... 143... 144... I can just give them the books they are looking for, no big deal... 145... but they will see... 146... To Kill a Mockingbird (147) next to... The Hobbit (148)... and the rest of the Lord of the Rings series were nowhere near - those were 84, 101 and 42...

The demigod turned to the coffee table and saw their favorite frog mug with no more steam coming off it. The poet grabbed the mug and took a sip. Cold. They sighed before chugging the whole thing and putting it back down.

What do I care about what other people think about my shelves? Ezra thought before they continued on their mission. 149... 150... 15-- Ben probably has an aneurysm every time he visits... Damn it... That thought alone was enough for the Egyptian demigod to pull down each book and start over.

Ezra had just cleared out one of the shelves, when their phone chimed. A message from their new friend. The poet buzzed the other in and decided to wait before continuing.

A knock on the door came not much later.

Ezra would cross that bridge when they came to it.

The poet hadn't heard the other appoaching as they were trying to organize their thoughts and keep their nerves in check. Thinking of what to say when they'd finally stand face to face with their best friend.

Hearing Tu's voice from behind, Ezra flinched slightly, their nerves on edge. They could sense the concern in Ben's voice, but the weight of his words only added to the overwhelming sense of guilt that gnawed at Ezra's insides.

The words "You shouldn't have come here" echoed in their mind, and Ezra's shoulders sagged with the weight of his disappointment. They hadn't wanted to cause trouble or put Ben in a difficult position, but now they realized they had done just that.

Ben reached the jeep and opened his door before getting in and closing the door, just slightly harder than he normally would. Sitting there, he stared at the other's spot, and then at them when they got to the door. Ben hoped the other would assume to get in rather than just stay out of the truck.

"I have half an hour." Ben cleared his throat before looking at his phone. He sighed, wondering how much trouble he'd be in if he called in halfway through the shift. It would be an asshole move but he truly right now was feeling absolutely terrible in his stomach. He left all his nursing items at the desk and took everything with him on his break. He really could do it. "For fucks sake." He cursed under his breath before calling the hospital and taking the channels to whoever he needed to call in. "Hey. Yeah. It's Ben. I have to call in for the rest of my shift. I know. I'm sorry. Something's come up and I really need to deal with the situation. It's an emergency." He said a few more sorrys before hanging up the phone and starting up his jeep.

Ben looked away and at the windshield.

As they reached the jeep, Ezra hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But when Ben opened the door and gestured for them to get in, they obeyed silently, sliding into the passenger seat. His terse words hung heavy in the air, and Ezra felt a pang of regret for causing him distress.

"You didn't have to call off... I'm sorry," Ezra said quietly, not looking up at the other. This was not what the poet had wanted. To cause drama or problems for Ben's job. But what did they expect showing up like that?

Ezra had texted him an apology. They DMed and when things truly seemed lost, they even tried to call. But all they received in response was the echo of silence, not even left on read to acknowledge the vulnerability laid bare.

Was this punishment for Ezra's past actions toward Ben, or were they simply not worth the time for an explanation? Either way, could the poet really blame the other?

Though understanding that this treatment might've been deserved, Ezra couldn't shake the unease about the presumed end of things. Even if it marked their final conversation, Ezra yearned for the opportunity to explain, to provide context to the chaos. If Benjamin decided that he never wanted to see Ezra ever again after that, it would be a fair decision. Closure was something Ezra craved, even if it came in the form of a painful goodbye.

The poet's fingers hovered over their phone, contemplating another message, another attempt to break the silence that stretched between them.

No.

They couldn't just keep waiting endlessly for a response that may never come. Someone had to act and if he wasn't going to, Ezra was. So the young poet grabbed a small bag to put their essentials in, and went out the door, to the one place they knew the other would most likely be; the hospital.

A bit dramatic, Ezra agreed, but at the same time, they were at the end of their rope. Not being able to shake the feeling they had fucked up.

___

A chilly autumn breeze brushed passed Ezra as they stood outside the building, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.

Now what?

Hesitantly, the demigod looked around the lobby, unsure if they should talk to the receptionist or sit down and wait. Both options were unhinged. Being there was unhinged.

Ezra shook off the second quesses and doubts. It was gonna be fine, they told themselves. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out.

But the thought of losing Tu...

The notifications popped up on his phone again, reminding him that he still left Ezra on unread. He shoved the phone in his pocket before walking out of the unit and down to the lobby to go down to his Jeep.

He froze immediately as soon as he opened the door from the stairs, it hit him in the back and pushed him forward. He could recognize the back of that head anywhere. Why was Ezra here? Why else would he be here? Ben answered his own question before trying to look around, seeing if anyone else was around. Looking at his watch, he noted the time but wasn't sure if there was enough time to unwrap everything. Sighing he walked forward to the back of his head.

Stopping just behind him, he sighed.

It wasn't a demand, there was sadness in his voice, pleading for more time with the other. Half an hour would never cut it.

Ezra would cross that bridge when they came to it.

The poet hadn't heard the other appoaching as they were trying to organize their thoughts and keep their nerves in check. Thinking of what to say when they'd finally stand face to face with their best friend.

Hearing Tu's voice from behind, Ezra flinched slightly, their nerves on edge. They could sense the concern in Ben's voice, but the weight of his words only added to the overwhelming sense of guilt that gnawed at Ezra's insides.

The words "You shouldn't have come here" echoed in their mind, and Ezra's shoulders sagged with the weight of his disappointment. They hadn't wanted to cause trouble or put Ben in a difficult position, but now they realized they had done just that.

They decided not to, as the demigod didn't want to bother yet another ancient god with their mortal struggles. It felt odd and their problems seemed so small in the grand scheme of things. They didn't want to take up anyone's time. Even though a therapist gets paid for that time. They had their journal, after all.

Their journal wasn't enough.

Ezra knew that. It was far from enough to relief the stress on their mind. In a fleeting moment, the writer wished they had never left New Orleans to go home. Life was simpler. The only thing Ezra had to deal with there, was trans- and xenophobia. And though in the moment, those things seemed like the worse thing they could deal with. But they don't compare to the struggles of today.

The young enby sighed as they looked at the floor. Pondering.

Skadi was a mother and she had many demigods under her wings already. She could be Ezra's protector and confidant too, if they desired such a thing. Mount Phoenix existed for the demigods' protection after all and they should feel free to bother the gods with their problems. They were there to help if necessary. 

At least here, on the island, Ezra could only focus on part of his problems, without having to care for trans- or xenophobia. The residents were some of the most tolerant people the goddess had ever seen, allowing many of them to heal without experiencing more rejection for their differences. 

Skadi had become somewhat of a mother figure to the poet while their real mother was doing gods know what in gods know where. And while their father, their oh so loving and supportive father, was on the other side of the foggy bridge unable to cross it.

Maybe it was a mistake coming to the island? The young writer thought, but was quickly replaced by an image of Benjamin's smile. If they had never come here, they wouldn't have found love. Or met all these like-minded individuals roaming the city.

The silence continued as Ezra continued to think. To consider what the goddess had offered.

The poet clearly needed help, everyone could see it, and even they realized their journals were no longer enough. Maybe they never really were...

"Shouldn't I be allowed to decide for myself?"

Those words had rolled off of Ezra's tongue before their lips could catch them. But the damage was done. The words were out there. Lingering in the air like a rotten smell. Heavy. Uneasy.

The student sighed, staring at their hands as they nervously fidgeted with one of the rings on their finger. "It's hard to stop thinking about Death. Especially when I came so close to them. It makes me wonder why they gave me another chance... I get the first time. It was really not my fault. So I do get why they sent me back," Ezra started, not looking up from their hands, "I just really hoped they didn't. I wouldn't be in this mess," the poet mumbled quietly and almost inaudibly.

"I can't sleep, my grades are slipping, I don't like going to work anymore... I feel like no one cares about me... if things keep going like this... I won't make it till the new year."

Ah, there it was. The question that had been hanging thick in the air, finally out. The death god raised his own tea cup, taking a sip of the tea, gazing at Ezra over the cup. Arawn pondered for a moment how he should respond. He was used to heavy, uneasy, painful. "I don't believe things are pre-determined. fate and free will isn't my area of expertise. I just know everything ends. Everyone ends up in the same situations," Arawn stated.

As his precious student fidgeted with the rings on their hand, Arawn quietly pondered the other's situation. As Ezra spoke, the god noted everything and set all the thoughts into his heart. He wished he could help the other more. He placed a heavily ringed hand on Ezra's back, lending the weight as a sort of comfort. "Death is a fascinating mistress. Even I cannot begin to understand everything. Coming close to death and then being released only to then remain shackled to the cruel mistress, is a truly scary thought. You were let go for a reason. You just have to find that reason, and I can't help with that. That is something that stays close to the heart," the God offered as a comfort.

A heavy confession left Ezra and Arawn's gaze followed the citrine ring. The God picked it up off the floor. "Don't worry about work or grades. Your health comes first and there are many people who care about you and would be sad if...something did happen to you." he said. The Celt analyzed the citrine ring before putting it in Ezra's palm. "I like the citrine stone. Natural citrine is known for grounding emotions, bringing creativity and imagination to the front. It also transforms negative thoughts and feelings to positive ones." he stated.

The atmosphere in the room felt heavy as the question lingered in the air. Arawn's response carried a weight of experience, and Ezra absorbed the words with a mix of contemplation and uncertainty. The touch on their back provided a subtle reassurance, and they appreciated the god's attempt to comfort them.

As Arawn spoke about the complexities of fate, free will, and the inevitability of endings, Ezra felt chills going down their spine. Death fascinated and scared them, because they had experienced it, yet they didn't know what was on the other side. It was an intricate puzzle they were struggling to solve.

The citrine ring, once dropped, became a focal point of the conversation. A beautiful ring with a yellow stone they got from a mysterious woman in a mysterious shop in the mysterious town of New Orleans. They never really thought to ask about the properties when she recommended the jewel. But as their professor listed them, it all made sense now and the demigod wondered for a moment how the mysterious shopkeeper knew.

When the god placed the ring in Ezra's palm, a mix of emotions surged within them. The gesture felt personal, and the advice about surrounding oneself with positivity resonated.

"Thank you," Ezra murmured, their voice carrying a blend of gratitude and vulnerability. "I'll keep that in mind, about the citrine. And I'll... try to focus on the good things."

As they closed their hand around the ring, it felt like a commitment—a promise to prioritize their well-being and seek solace in positivity. The conversation had unveiled a depth of understanding from Arawn, and Ezra couldn't shake the feeling that, in the god of death, they had found an unexpected source of guidance and compassion.

As the goddess spoke, Ezra nodded, acknowledging the importance of communication. "I really am sorry. I don't have an excuse for disappearing like that..." the poet started, "I just..." Ezra sighed, quickly abandoning the thought. Nothing they'd say could excuse their behaviour and lack of communication, and no one wanted to hear some sob story.

"I'm behind on schoolwork, as well, but as soon as I'm caught up, I'll be here open till close until I've paid back the time I owe," the employee said apologetically. "Thanks for allowing me back. I'll communicate better."

That seemed to be a common issue in all aspects of the demigod's life. In their relationships, their school, and now their job, communication seemed to be something Ezra struggled with.

Perhaps a thing to bring up in therapy?

Ezra shook their head at the thought. Therapy had been a topic of conversation for months. Their dad practically begged them to seek help for the trauma they endured, right up to the point where Ezra crossed the bridge. Where they promised.

But they had lied.

Not intentionally. Something just held them back. And the longer the Egyptian demigod waited, the stronger that thing became;

She had seen them on the Bridge, many nights ago, she had seen their despair. They lived with consequences that didn't came from their own choice and she wasn't going to punish them for that. 

"I think that you have some, Ezra" she answered, smiling at them over her cup of tea. "But you do not need to give me details about them if you do not want to." She would always be ready to listen though, if the youngster ever felt the need to share with her.

The goddess nodded. "I do not want you to exhaust yourself though, Ezra. So you can take your time to 'pay' us back. Do not leave us in the dark anymore and everything will be fine."

Communication was important, in every part of life. It made everything easier, clearer. Talking with someone about that would be absolutely wonderful and helpful. Hopefully. At his revelation though, Skadi moved to sit near Ezra. 

They decided not to, as the demigod didn't want to bother yet another ancient god with their mortal struggles. It felt odd and their problems seemed so small in the grand scheme of things. They didn't want to take up anyone's time. Even though a therapist gets paid for that time. They had their journal, after all.

Their journal wasn't enough.

Ezra knew that. It was far from enough to relief the stress on their mind. In a fleeting moment, the writer wished they had never left New Orleans to go home. Life was simpler. The only thing Ezra had to deal with there, was trans- and xenophobia. And though in the moment, those things seemed like the worse thing they could deal with. But they don't compare to the struggles of today.

The young enby sighed as they looked at the floor. Pondering.

Closed starter for @ezraxmp

Ezra enjoyed the evenings at The Lion's Den. The bookstore already was quite the cozy hangout spot during the day, and as the sky got darker outside, that atmosphere was emplified. As if the poet was living in a novel.

The clerk looked up from their work, their eyes widening slightly at the sight of Xiwangmu and her basket of ancient texts. They returned her warm smile with one of their own, nodding in greeting.

"Good evening! Thank you for the kind words," the demigod replied warmly. "We absolutely accept donations, especially of such precious and timeless works. We would be honored to add them to our collection!"

When it came to books, especially rare classics, Ezra became as giddy as a kid in a candy shop. They couldn't keep their eyes off of the books the Goddess had brought in and the Egyptian demigod couldn't wait to take a closer look.

It felt like everyone in the store stared at them as they walked past. Judged them for having the audacity to return after weeks of no contact. As if they knew Ezra came to ask, nay beg, for their job back.

Ezra stood in the doorway of Skadi's office, uncertainty in their eyes. Skadi's warm welcome and genuine smile eased some of the tension in their shoulders. They took a hesitant step into the office, closing the door behind them.

"Thank you, Skadi," Ezra replied softly, their voice a bit hoarse from disuse. "I... I appreciate the note and the space. Sorry for disappearing like that. I hope I didn't cause too much trouble."

Once the door was closed, Skadi invited Ezra to sit on the little bench near the window, already busying herself with preparing some tea. She was glad to see them again, whatever the circumstances were. "Ezra, do not worry about that. Sometimes, it is best to take time for ourselves. However, you owe some shifts to your colleagues" she commented with a smile.

Once Ezra was settled, Skadi handed them a cup of fresh Earl Grey tea, placing a plate of cookies next to them. 

As the goddess spoke, Ezra nodded, acknowledging the importance of communication. "I really am sorry. I don't have an excuse for disappearing like that..." the poet started, "I just..." Ezra sighed, quickly abandoning the thought. Nothing they'd say could excuse their behaviour and lack of communication, and no one wanted to hear some sob story.

"I'm behind on schoolwork, as well, but as soon as I'm caught up, I'll be here open till close until I've paid back the time I owe," the employee said apologetically. "Thanks for allowing me back. I'll communicate better."

That seemed to be a common issue in all aspects of the demigod's life. In their relationships, their school, and now their job, communication seemed to be something Ezra struggled with.

Perhaps a thing to bring up in therapy?

Ezra shook their head at the thought. Therapy had been a topic of conversation for months. Their dad practically begged them to seek help for the trauma they endured, right up to the point where Ezra crossed the bridge. Where they promised.

But they had lied.

Not intentionally. Something just held them back. And the longer the Egyptian demigod waited, the stronger that thing became;

"it's not like you could have known. besides, isn't half the purpose of our lives to just...discover the promises of our heritage? or learn to hone these skills into something useful? regardless, nothing you, or i, or anyone else on this mountain, can be predicted or guessed or assumed. our parentage is far too spread out. too many cultures, too far apart. you can't blame yourself for something you couldn't have possibly begun to piece together."

something sungjin had ended up learning by rote. heoksang had always made sure his boy didn't spend his nights puttering around with "what ifs" or the would've, could've, should've of every interaction he comes by.

But the poet was constantly occupied with the what ifs. The endless possibilities of life. These thought experiments filled their brain with words and images. That, on top of the imagery their eyes would capture from the real world, and their own thoughts and feelings, the demigod's mind was flowing over.

Migrains were a constant when Ezra was little.

So they emptied their mind the only way they knew how. Poetry. Art. Their journal was filled with stories and feelings. Doodles in the margins, sticky notes, book reviews, poetry, dreams, fears. What ifs... Anything and everything they wanted to remember - without them having to remember.

"Thank you," Ezra responded finally, sincerity in their eyes. "You're right, and it helps hearing it from someone who's navigated a similar path."

What he didn't prepare the demigod for, was grief, and trauma. But could anyone blame the man? What parent could adequately prepare their child for emotions so grand?

The writer nodded in understanding after a moment in thought, appreciating the shared sentiment of parental ambiguity. The lack of knowledge about their biological parents seemed to be a common thread between them. The acknowledgment that gods operated with a certain level of detachment and arrogance didn't escape Ezra, and it resonated with their own observations of divine behavior.

Though they didn't blame their mother. Not entirely. Yes, the young enby was upset they never got to meet - properly meet - their mother. But she was not of this world. Divine. Ezra understood that the gods had other business to attend - whatever gods did.

Or so they did years ago; understand. Because Ezra had seen them, gods, roaming around the island as any other. But she - their mother... Seshat...- wasn't here. Yes, Ezra was upset.

The gods' ability to wield power and control over their lives was both awe-inspiring and disconcerting. The mention of not taking the memory for granted struck a chord with Ezra. They hadn't fully considered the significance of the image their mother had left them, however vague it was.

The poet took another sip of their hot beverage, trying to keep it all together as they thought about all that plagued them recently. Ezra didn't want to burden to the ancient god with their mortal problems. They weren't something the student felt the professor ever dealt with. Or ever would deal with.

Ezra envied that. Him. The confidence. The strength - both physical and mental. The way he carried himself. Ezra hated themselves for their weakness, their helplessness. For almost...

the death god was very familiar with death and dying and the afterlife. it was his whole job, his whole calling. as for confidence and strength, well, he was a god. it came with age and experience. he could name so many other who weren't like him. he watched the other for a few moments, patient. death was a really fascinating thing sometimes, in his own opinion.

he let ezra speak, listening to the other, absorbing the words. he let the words swim over him and process everything. he offered a discreet smile as the other spoke of meeting death twice like an old friend, speaking to death and then sent back both times. the near death experiences. arawn had run into many in his life. those that had come close to his realm, but were pulled back. he was always there to greet them and bid them farewell at the same time.

"Shouldn't I be allowed to decide for myself?"

Those words had rolled off of Ezra's tongue before their lips could catch them. But the damage was done. The words were out there. Lingering in the air like a rotten smell. Heavy. Uneasy.

The student sighed, staring at their hands as they nervously fidgeted with one of the rings on their finger. "It's hard to stop thinking about Death. Especially when I came so close to them. It makes me wonder why they gave me another chance... I get the first time. It was really not my fault. So I do get why they sent me back," Ezra started, not looking up from their hands, "I just really hoped they didn't. I wouldn't be in this mess," the poet mumbled quietly and almost inaudibly.

"I can't sleep, my grades are slipping, I don't like going to work anymore... I feel like no one cares about me... if things keep going like this... I won't make it till the new year."