of jackals

There was truth in what Anubis spoke of. Stories, gods, the mythos that kept them alive didn’t disappear but it evolved over countless of generations. Mutating and changing as each generation told it slightly differently. A hundred lives lived through the tales that mortals weaved for them. But all of their temples were gone. Dead like Pan was. Temples had been long flattened, demolished, to make way for casinos or the new-spangled churches that had subsequently been burnt for huge data warehouses. No-one really worshipped gods these days, not like they used to. Which, begged the question could Pan not be reborn? 

He’d formed a cult-like worship amongst the mortals in New Orleans. Loved for his music. Allegedly cherished for his charm. Except their love, their stories of him, seemingly weren’t bringing him back. Heph had heard no such news from Olympus of his return. It was hard to ignore the noisy god even if he were half-way across the world.

“On that.” He taps the table. Nature had not collapsed. “There was a disruption in the stock market a few days ago with an agricultural firm.” A tad too specific to be merely coincidental. Heph has no real plants in his home, nor in the offices. No measure to see if Pan’s absence is beginning to have an affect.

Hephaestus sets down the tea, as comforting as it was to indulge in something spicy sweet. “It is dangerous, only an odd choice to go after a minor deity unless…as I say it was a test. An experiment.” He exhales, perhaps he should acquire a plant. A real one not one of the artfully crafted artificial plants that looked hyper-realistic. Use it as a marker. “What if by the very nature of us sustaining his story, his legacy, we are delaying the inevitable?”

Another reason to call the gods together. Veles was the closest they had right now to facilitate in the absence of Pan, but even he had chosen an entirely different avenue of re-invention. “If two identities now co-exist, or as you say are at war with one another, inside one mortal, one god, whomever or whatever they are. Surely there would be a way to tell?”

Heph had witnessed firsthand what happened when an immortal pushed the boundaries of what a mortal body was capable of. They were all bound by the same rules. But to have twice the battery, twice the power, surely someone in New Orleans was currently a walking light-bulb. “We speak of entities at war, well I’ve heard talk of one of the slavic gods being unable to control his own powers. This is all…highly unusual. We’re entering into the unknown and that is why I seek to unite us.”

“If we are alone in this, then we’re all susceptible to this force. Perhaps if one of our own has betrayed us, we may flush them out sooner rather than later. Control this before it has an effect on the mortal world.” 

“They do not deserve this carnage and chaos.”

x.

On the mention of the stock market ‘blip’ Anubis looks up from his spiced tea only briefly.  It might have been the slightest of glances, only a minute shift in the focus of his gaze, but if one was observant ( which Heph surely was ) and they knew anything of the guardian deities usual mannerisms ( which Heph surely did ), it might be assumed that the point was something that had drawn his attention duly and had been -- n o t e d.

He would have to watch the succulents more closely.

“That is, if it was a choice at all.”

He remains softly spoken, even in his challenge.  So often people assumed that a god so closely affiliated with ‘death’ must be evil.  ( And therein that ‘Death’ itself was inherently evil... Which it was not.  Just another aspect of the inevitable, not as celebrated as ‘life’ but still simply a part of those never-ending cycles... )... But in truth, justice was neutral - rightfully so.  A balance - weighing both sides of the scale.

“We should also consider - if the individual responsible for mortally wounding Peter’s human incarnation was aware of ‘what’ Peter was, they could have been under the assumption that he would simply return to pantheon and descend once again - as, up until this point, that is precisely what has happened.”

“Even in the aftermath of such a violent act, we do not know if the intention was to void his existence entirely.”

Gods and deities had died before while walking the earth... And yes, it was difficult to murder a descended one, but not impossible.  Descension was not eternal - it was temporary.  A glimpse.  A gift.  They had all ‘died’ here.  But never before in perpetuity.

“Premeditation, collusion and conspiracy are equally as viable as the tragedy of misadventure and unsuspected outcome.”

“The rest is purely speculation.”

Perhaps the deity before him could only function with an outcome on the cards.  Something that provided a means to an end.  That nothing could happen without specific purpose.  The gods of chaos would probably argue the opposite.  That nothing had purpose.  Anubis, as ever, found himself quite central to those opposing sides.  But it seemed as though Heph was quite determined to find a singular cause or a singular culprit who could burden whatever amount of blame, wrath or revenge came thereafter.

“If you seek to unite us, I would like to ask you... Unite against - what?  And if you do suspect betrayal, who might be omitted from this unification?  Who would be scrutinised.  Who would do the scrutinising?”

“That, is also dangerous.”

Gods watching gods, suspecting each other... ...They’d be tearing each others throats out within five minutes.

And then Heph throws out his reverse uno card.

Them. He speaks of them. The humans.  The mortals who they were made to serve.   Living their beautiful and painful lives, blissfully unaware that their deities walked among them.  That there had been a fracture in ‘the state of things’.  That the death of a god could unleash or quash the very force they represented with potentially untold consequence...

...To them.

Touché.

“No, they do not. But we should be cautious that we are not the reason to cause more.”

Anubis would be the first to admit that he had no desire to join whatever ‘unification’ was proposed.  But he was also not fool enough to think that those eager to join such a union would do so with any regard for that aforementioned caution.  It had the potential to be a powderkeg.  

Perhaps then, an even hand may be needed.  Loathe though he may be.

Location: Vamp, Open Mic Night @ofjackals 

Vamp was usually closed on Mondays, but on the last Monday of every month, a quiet queue would form in the early evening outside. The quiet, abandoned mood to Vamp gave it a reclusive atmosphere. Erzulie leant into that vibe, turned down the lights, pulled up curtains around the stage so the room felt smaller, more intimate. On the stage instead of burlesque or powerful singers was… well anything. Poets, spoken word, lectures, comedy, anything went at Open Mic night.

Tonight was another moody and quiet Monday, Erzulie flitted about behind the scenes, sorting the schedule, preparing drinks, making sure everyone was seated and making friendly with the guests. She loved this, loved watching mortals get up and make works of art, loved that they were able to share this part of their being because of her work, because Vamp was welcoming and charming and attractive.

Sometimes they were joined by divinity. Gods playing among the mortals. It hardly felt fair when Tenjin took to the stage! Today, her divine guest was not a performer, but a spectator, hanging around the shadows of the room. Divine energy rippled from him, dark and mysterious. Erzulie drew closer and recognised him as Anubis. The secretive death god, one who always kept to himself. Ah, but Erzulie kept her ear out for Rumour herself, and had a few sinking suspicions as to why Anubis might be sniffing around her Open Mic night. She looked around, and confirmed that Tenjin was absent tonight.

“Are you going to perform?” Erzulie asked Anubis, slipping into the chair next to him like she owned the place, which she did. “Let me guess, stand up comedy?” Erzulie teased, swirling her drink around in her cocktail glass. “What’s the deal with ripperdocs? You go to get one hand fixed and end up with two!” Erzulie dryly joked, a joke which was at least a few decades old.

x.

While Anubis can certainly appreciate the talent it took to perform on one of Vamps usual evenings, bodies swaying to the thrum of music that vibrated through the body, lights that flashed, highlighted, accentuated every curve and sensuous gyration... He doesn’t particularly enjoy the sensory bombardment, and after his initial introduction to the club, he hasn’t really frequented it since... Unless it was a night like tonight.  You could hear the echo of footsteps across the floor.  The subtle murmurs of quiet conversations by a different kind of clientele...  An altogether changed experience.  As though the place was in disguise -- or perhaps it was more laid bare.  More naked than the usual abundance of nakedness... Simpler.

On nights like these, talent is not always present... But he does enjoy the bravery of those performers.  Taking to the stage to take a chance...  To see if their jokes will raise a chuckle, if their song will play heartstrings, if their poems will usher forth emotion, if their words will move the soul...

...To be brave regardless of the odds of success or failure... Was another of those curious human traits.  And he enjoys the attempt as much as the performances.          ( Though the poems seem to be blander, the music more repetitive, the jokes falling flatter upon his ears.  When not cast in the vivid hues that Tenjin brought to the world, there was a lack of glimmer, of sparkle, of inspiration... But he does still try to see it... However small...)

And he’s distracted from the performer on stage anyway, their performance fading into the background as someone else... something else... approaches.

And to Anubis at least, Erzulie brings with her a myriad of sensations...           She feels like a fierce downpour in the middle of summer, straight down, heavy rain, bringing relief from the heat while pounding the body by the sheer force of it.  She smells like expensive perfume, oils, ointments and honey - subtly shifting so that the senses do not acclimatise, each breath a heady mix of something new, tempting and delicious.  And she sounds...

...Mildly amused.  Which is probably less to do with the act on the stage and more to do with Anubis nestled in that quiet little corner.

Turning slightly to accommodate her presence, allowing her to fill his attention completely, Anubis just blinks at the ‘joke’.  Not a smile.  Not a hint or a flicker or a sliver of a crack to that neutral facade.

“I was trying to figure out why the ball kept getting bigger...  ...Then it hit me.”

☼

Utu nodded along as he sipped his drink, but then made a head-shaking grimace as Anubis speculated about the technicalities of Pan’s washroom deal-making.  Not that Utu was a prude, but more instinctively how Utu reacted whenever trying to reconcile ‘Pan’ with ‘business practices’ of any manner.  To Utu, the spit-shake agreement was just as bad as the spit-in-sink agreement.  No contracts, nothing written down.  Pan used to say that pen and paper was better used for writing songs, not contracts.

But it was Anubis’ round-eyed look at the end of the query that did it for Utu.  That mysterious….not snark exactly, and not naivety.  Not robotic either; although if Heph was trying to invent an actual AI lifelike robot, Anubis would be the perfect template, Utu thought.  All Utu could do in the face of it was smile harder.  “I didn’t ask for details, when it came to Pan’s arrangements.  Suffice it to say, people did come through for him in the end.  Deals brokered and carried out.  Broken deals, Pan also handled…”

Utu looked grimmer then.  “I never asked about that either.  If you wanna chastise me for running a bad business, you’ve got every right.  I indulged Pan, I let him get away with whatever he liked.  I mean, I thought - “  Utu rubbed his face.  “I thought it would last.  How naïve of me.”  It was a dry, unhappy statement, because it wasn’t naïve, not in the way where Utu could’ve predicted that Pan would get completely obliterated from existence, forever.

“Why law?” Utu had to ask curiously.  Then continued,  “I know the obvious answer - you know back back in my day, I was appealed to for fairness in lawful matters as well.  We had different practices then but I know justice is your bread and butter.  But these people now, their idea of law…do you think it’s changed at all for you, in all these millennia?”

The question was a side-track.  Utu was thrilled that Anubis would help, and they nodded along.  “I’ve been trying to track down what I could.  My side is organized but Pan’s side is a bit more hectic.”

Somehow, Anubis’ non-comforting comfort felt good and right, as justified as the old god himself.  But Utu looked up when Anubis mentioned ‘close quarters’, a thought occurring to him.  “Y’know what - I don’t think I’ve ever seen where you live, Tar. You know where I live.”  Right above them, in Utu’s apartment over Attaboy.  

“Not that I’ve ever…invited you up for dinner or anything.  We’re fairly scattered, overall.  Or is this close enough?”  Utu smiled, self-deprecating as he said,  “You coming to the coffeeshop to work, and me interrupting you with all and sundry?”

x.

“I would never chastise you.  Peter was your friend - regardless of his conduct in matters of business.  It should have lasted - for it to be cut short so violently was a surprise to us all...”

A sweeping statement.  Not entirely accurate.  It was surely a surprise to Anubis, and Utu - but the jackal had been contemplating the very nature of Pans demise.  To kill a god...  Perhaps would require one with the knowledge of such.  And there were very few mortals, beyond the realms of tome buried scholars who could know enough to accomplish such a feat.  A growing dread, in the pit of his stomach - a suspicion he couldn’t shake... The one best placed to kill a god was, most likely, another god.

Of course, he doesn’t voice that suspicion aloud.  Does not wish to give cause for Utu to be any more afeared than he already was.

“We can begin tomorrow.  I will help you to look through Peters office to see what might pass for legitimate... Did he even have an office?”

Utu asks why law and Anubis pauses for a moment, picking out the words that he can best used to describe his choice.  He’s not the best at plucking descriptions from the air, at rationalising motivations into something that was easily understandable ( Tenjin had been the wordsmith, the artist, able to choose the exact word to describe any given thing or moment or feeling ).

“You were asked by the living to rule on matters of justice, to grant a boon, to show mercy, to pass punishment or sentence.  Once the heart is weighed - in death... There is no appeal.  The only sentence is eternity.”  

“I suppose you could say that I was - curious - to see how the laws of humanity served their purpose.  And that’s probably the crux of it...  The complexities of the human condition.  It’s - fascinating.  Those who do wrong, but for just reason.  Those who claim to do good, but are ultimately self-serving at heart.  To see where the lines blur between law and justice.”

There was no - blurring - in Anubis’ justice.  But then he wasn’t weighing one act...  He was weighing a cumulative lifetime of deeds.  Every act.  Every word.  Every thought.  Every inclination.

There is another of those slightly wide eyed blinks, thinking about his dwelling.  Most probably expected a deity of the afterlife to exist starkly - in barren surroundings.  For Anubis, that was very much - not the case.  

“I have a loft just outside of the business district.  It’s only about a twenty minute walk from here... Around the same to the courthouse.  One of the district attorneys moved to another state a few years ago and I took over her lease.  It’s very -- convenient.”

And very - private.  Since Anubis has taken up residency, not another living ( mortal or immortal ) being had set foot over the threshold.  Simply because there had really been no reason for them to.  Or no inclination to.  So there’s another drawn out pause.  A silence as the jackal mentally tapdances along the line of propriety and social norms.

“You may visit if you wish?”

Not quite an invitation, but probably about as close to one as he’d ever get.  The words are followed by raised brow - eyes slowly shifting to the ceiling ( up, and in the general vicinity of Utus dwelling ).

//:

Interesting. There was no doubting Anubis’ theory. They were after all nothing but stories passed down from generation to generation. Living and breathing merely because the mortals believed them to be. An essence of each aspect of a mortal’s life – and also what lay beyond this particular plane. Hephaestus had no feelers in the art of death. It was an ambiguous and foreign world to him in which he would never live. If mortals souls were to be guided. Where had Pan ended up? Did he exist as fragments, as the stories he had left behind, if he ceased to exist – would they all forget him eventually?

Had they forgotten other gods along the way?

“Destroying a story is no different to torching a letter, or a diary. Once the original is gone no other copies can ever be made. We might have anecdotal copies but they do not hold up against the original.” Heph mused aloud. 

Anubis seemed to care more for the pedantic details of how Pan could be destroyed, which was fine. Let them all obsess over whichever part of the story they deemed truly horrifying or puzzling. It was the possibility of it being replicated that was keeping Hephaestus awake. He could not fathom the possibility that more of them could disappear. Cease to exist.

“Pan is an unusual choice, no doubt. Though he had his quarrels with many…what would someone have to gain from his eradication?” Though Hephaestus could certainly name a few that would have a lot to gain from losing Pan. He didn’t often entertain his fellow immortals but he’d heard enough rumour and gossip. Even with FAMA down, and good riddance to that, the gods chatter still reached him.

“I suspect, that he was a test. To see if it were possible. Perhaps they believed everyone would be so relieved to be rid of Pan that we wouldn’t care for the sheer audacity of it. Now this is a queer relation, but I don’t simply just bring new innovations to the masses immediately. They have to be tested. Incase the product fails to reach expectations…”

“Now, I could be wrong. It might’ve been eons of resentment. However, doesn’t it strike you as odd?” He finally takes a sip of his tea. Waiting, watching, and observing the other’s reaction. Anubis was not one that could be easily read. He is in no rush though. Hephaestus would wait to eek out the truth. Even if it was quite likely that Anubis wasn’t in possession of that truth. “What if there was something to be gained from destroying a story, a belief, a force, whatever you choose to call us. Be it power or something else entirely.”

“Rather, it seems likely that it isn’t what if but what can be gained?“

x.

Anubis is a little amused by the somewhat puritanical nature of Hephs musings on stories.  That there could be only one version.  One truth.  The original and nothing more.  He seemed to be missing the point of stories.  The anecdotal nature of them was the very thing that kept them alive.  Stories grew and changed, became more fantastical and complex and entertaining - in each and every telling or retelling.  With more emphasis on the parts the teller enjoyed - perhaps embellishing a heroic deed, or making out that a villain of a piece was more dastardly and evil than their original portrayal...

“I would beg to differ... They may not be the same as the original.  But that does not make them lesser than.  I’m sure that many ‘originals’ have been lost to time... But those stories have not died.  Have not dissipated or disappeared.  Many of them have flourished and continue to do so...”

If Hephs version was true, then none of the gods would be here.  They would be a singular thought.  An isolated impression... Their complexities and design, their fantastical natures would never have been drawn out, spun threads of such intricacy that could never be conceived without that growth.

What would someone have to gain from his eradication?

Why does there have to be gain?  Sometimes chaos existed for the simple sake of chaos itself.  No rhyme nor reason to it.  No rationale... Though that may be a difficult concept for Heph -- the industry mogul, everything with an explicit purpose.  If it had no purpose, then it had no use and was therefore obsolete.  So to do something simply ‘because’ might be beyond comprehension.

“The story lives on.  Even in us - we speak of Peter even now.  And, as far as we can tell - the force, the abstract still exists.  Nature has not collapsed in on itself.  Growing things have not shrivelled and died...”

At least - not yet.   Anubis has been keeping something of a wan eye on the miniature succulents lining one of the shelves in his apartment.  Thus far they seemed to be managing without their representing deity.

“Perhaps someone has figured out how to sever the concept of a god from it’s force, leaving it wild and free.  Or... If you wish to think of it in terms of -- gain -- perhaps they have found a way to claim that force for their own.”

Inexperienced hands wielding new power. Staking claim to something that was neither inherently ‘theirs’ nor ever meant to be.  Yes, a power grab might be something that would fit in with Hephs view of purpose... 

“Which could be a more worrisome concept than someone killing a god. --  And if Peter was only the first - as per your hypothesis - that could mean potentially opposing or conflicting forces residing within a single entity, at war with each other.”

...To Anubis, it sounded like something of a ticking timebomb.

"No."

It's a simple answer. Something that is blunt and stark and straightforward. Yes, even though his 'social skills' are somewhat lacking, he does know that sometimes gentle lies are kinder than a more brutal and stark truth. Something that could cause hurt or harm didn't fit with the professed virtue of honesty. A lie was another of those things that had to be carefully - balanced. A little white lie, or an outright deceit... 

So - why would you ever lie? -- the weight of the lie against the harm you avoid.

Lie with the intent to delude, deceive, defraud... The balance swings poorly, your heart grows heavier.

Or lie. And be merciful. The scales will tip in your favour. Selflessness, compassion, charity, they lighten the heart more than the lie which weighs it down.

Lying is never okay.  But the reasons for lying can be.

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't do it."

Regret probably isn’t the right word to describe it.  

Anubis saw a coloured world through Tenjins words, filling in the blanks and the gaps and replacing grays with the most vivid hues imaginable.  Her words evoking emotion that was once thought beyond the capacity of the jackal-judge.  He has had aeons to observe.  To see the intricacies of every good or evil deed done by humankind and he has stood impartial through each and every one... The scales so very carefully balanced.  But he had never truly -- felt.  Felt the joys or the sorrows, the elation or the despair that the souls who traversed his domain had experienced oh, so freely.  Never felt... Until taken by the hand on a journey of discovery.  Through words and deeds.  Through beauty and bliss.  Through tragedy and anguish.  Each and every one igniting another unknown sensation, another new discovery.  The aeons of immortality fade into insignificance when compared to even a single experience with Tenjin.

And while he carries those memories, those experiences into this new mortal existence, it’s hard to hold onto the colour... Where once vivid and saturated, they have begun to pale and dull.  Gray seeping in around the edges, bleeding into his vision like the shade he truly is.

He is built to serve justice, not to feel compassion. A judge of those souls, not the songwriter of their deeds.

Neither good, nor evil.

He has a balance to maintain.                --  Tenjin unbalances those scales.

☼

“You know I like teasing you, Tar,”  Utu said with a slight grin.  His ‘tease’ so incredibly gentle (formality! oooh! scandalous) but that was Utu’s way.  Especially with Anubis, who Utu was especially fond of.  The Egypt god felt more like a peer than some of the younger ones, not that age was particularly relevant.  Pan, after all, had captured Utu and swept them up in Pan’s world, and Utu had admittedly loved it.

Sitting kitty-corner to Anubis, Utu arranged a myriad of cushions around their body like small buttresses of comfort.  “As the saying goes, potayto-potahto.  Some folk - “  Utu meant immortals, at least their religion -  “ -are big on memorials.  Wakes?  One last hoe-down, throw-down for the deceased.  And Peter Allway is no ordinary death.  It’s very upsetting, honestly.  It’s what Peter would’ve wanted…”

Utu smiled again, as Anubis accepted the idea of a wake into his hemisphere.  Scales balancing out in the old dog’s head.  “Okay well!  I appreciate the help but I, um, kind of have…”  Utu frowned trying to think of how to word this.  “What kind of lawyer are you again?  I might need some legal assistance.  Not gratis; I’d hire you of course.  With Pan gone, I’ll need some…adjusting to Attaboy and I want to make sure I do everything right.  Pan had his own ways of management, y’know? That usually involved spitting on hands and shaking.  And kissing.  And bj’s in the bathroom.”  Utu scrunched his nose.  “I’d prefer not to handle matters his way.”

All jokes aside, Anubis unsurprisingly got to the heart of the matter, and Utu only shook their head.  “I’m not feeling good.  A lot of the others - our peers - aren’t particularly concerned, from what I’ve learned.  Then we have Veles who’s gleefully spouting ominous portends.  He’s excited.”  Utu shook his head.

“I’m terrified, Anubis.  It’s terrifying to contemplate what happened to Pan.”

x.

Utu asks what manner of law Anubis practices and there’s something of a soft smile from the jackal.

“I... Dabble. In various disciplines.”

Which was a very mild way of putting it.  There’s something about the limbo between life and afterlife which lends a great deal of time for one to contemplate.  To muse.  And to learn.  

“Corporate, constitutional, intellectual property, tax... Criminal defense...”  

The smile widens ever so slightly at the last mention.  It’s a great deal easier to defend the falsely accused when you could be absolutely certain of their innocence.

“Peter must have been exceptionally good at sexual gratification if he could close a deal with a blow job... Or was he on the receiving end?”

There’s that oddly innocent puppy eyed head tilt again as Anubis very easily discusses such things with seemingly no manner of embarrassment or even humour - just taking the statement made by Utu as a simple fact and commenting on it as such.

“Though you are correct.  It would be very hard to justify such things in a legal sense as exchanging of any kind of bodily fluids doesn’t constitute a binding contract.  At least, not one that you could attest to in court.”

“I will, of course - help you where I can.  Though you may have to see what actual paperwork you can dig out as a starting point.  I need to know what the situation is in detail...”

Gory detail, possibly covered in something sticky from the sound of things.

“...Before I can make any recommendations as to how you may proceed.”

But then they move on to the subject of feelings ( Anubis had asked after all, and no, he’s really not the best at dealing with any kind of emotional situation ).  It’s not until Utu utters the word ‘terrified’ that Anubis actually fumbles...  Feels a pang of something akin to helplessness.  He doesn’t want to leave the other floundering or fearful, but he’s also somewhat at a loss as to what to either do or say to ease that terrible burden.

So - there’s something of a very awkward pat on the others arm in a ‘there there’ gesture - which is actually a significant one on the part of Anubis, physical contact not something he offered to all and sundry ( unlike Pan in the bathroom, apparently ).

“It is indeed a disturbing circumstance we find ourselves in.”

Anubis certainly fell into the camp of those ‘troubled’ by the death of an ‘immortal’, rather than those jubilant about it.  And while he had less of a personal attachment to Pan than some of the others, he’s certainly had cause to think upon the ‘how’ and the ‘why’ of it.  That the seemingly impossible had been accomplished.  And that there may be a danger for others of their kind - Utu and himself included.

“I am - sorry - for the loss of your friend.  And I am sorry that I have no answers for you.  Though I do think it is both sensible and pragmatic to be cautious until we can discover more.”

And he does worry.  About the chaos gods.  The ones who wander in indulgence and gratification.  Who may throw that very caution to the wind and endanger themselves further.

The last few days had been unsettling. Hephaestus felt uneasy but he wouldn’t let that show. He was however addressing the gods, individually, who had some sway, presence or enough reason about them. Anubis. A curious god who kept to himself. Who chose somewhere quiet, ancient, and without a decadent over-use of technology. Hephaestus unbuttoned his jacket, pleased by this little find, he would have to make note of it for future uses. There weren’t many places in the city that were untouched any longer. Even the gardens had been brought into the digital world – curtesy of course by Volcan-x technology.

His empire is vast. Which, is pleasing but he is not so fool to surround himself in smart-technology in day to day life. There is still a part of him that yearns for the eons gone by that were simpler. When craftsmanship boiled down to what you could create out of metal. Not a computer chip.

“Tarek,” he greets. 

The cafe is quaint. The little corner that Anubis has found himself in is dark, apt one might suppose. He sits in the seat opposite and examines the spread before him. Tea pot, cups, it could’ve been afternoon tea in another life.

He pours himself and cup, surprisingly quite content to sip the offered tea which is warm, spiced and faintly sweet. It is entirely agreeable. “It’s lovely,” he answers, with a tilt of his head. Too hot to drink it properly so he sets it aside for now.

“Yes, there’s no easy way to come around to such a topic. However, I imagine it is on everyone’s minds as of right now.” He let’s out a sigh as if the matter physically pained him. “The death of our beloved friend Peter, it has shaken us all no doubt, and I fear his death might be the first.” 

Thus far he’d had mixed responses whenever he suggested such a notion. For the most part. Most gods were too caught up in their own hubris to believe it could possibly happen to them. Fools. Then, there were those that believed whatever this was it was a one-off. An act of unspeakable violence. 

It was that, but it was planned and it was an act of war. First however, he must gauge just how pliable Anubis would be to his suggestions. “We cannot let it happen again, there will be those that say it is impossible. Peter was not…he wasn’t defenceless.” No matter how hard they tried to paint him as wholly innocent. “Apologies, this is an indelicate matter but you felt his death, did you not?”

x.

Anubis sips his tea - savoring it, the steam carrying the scent of apple and cinnamon to his senses, the taste lingering on his tongue in the aftermath of the heat.  There were such simple but delicate delights to be experienced in a mortal form that were all but foreign to his immortal self.  That’s perhaps why he indulges in such things.  He knows that many of the other gods find their mortal pleasures elsewhere - in the viscera of violence, in the ecstasy of intimacy, in the hording of the material, in the glory of fame... But here, with his pot of tea and the curled paper of books to leaf through, Anubis feels as though his mortal form is - content... Happy even.

Though the happiness is tainted.  Not by the presence of Heph himself, but by the topic of discussion posed.  And posed he assumed it would be at some point.  He had wondered by whom... Considered in the first instance that it might be Kanaloa... But perhaps death was a turn off for the clientele.  

The use of the words ‘beloved friend’ don’t draw any kind of reaction to Anubis’ face, though he’s silently amused at the phrasing.  Was Pan a friend?  He can’t speak particularly for himself - they were never close - perhaps the pantheon were too divninely distinct.  Or perhaps they were just never meant to mesh - a deity of nature - of life and growth and a deity of the afterlife, so intrinsically linked to death, probably weren’t destined to be any kind of playmates.

“I had considered it.”

He says in reference to Pans death not being the first.  It seemed to be an impossible feat - but somehow, it had been accomplished.

‘ you felt his death, did you not ‘

Ah.  Another point that had been somewhat... Perplexing.

“I did not.”

“The passing of a mortal frees the soul... It’s the soul which calls, which needs to be guided upon the path to the afterlife - whichever one they believe in... Or are most deserving of.”

Most deserving of - upon their judgement.  It was not a decision, not an active choice by Anubis to send them on to a paradise or a purgatory.  

“Something I think every immortal is somewhat - lacking in.  We are made of belief and faith.  Of myth and legend.  We are abstract forces woven into stories, given form and feature by that very belief.”

There’s a blink.  A very small shrug.  Throughout the entire musing, Anubis had been focused upon his small cup of tea, only glancing up now to study the others reaction.

“At least, that’s my current working theory.  And as such, upon Peters demise, there was no soul to guide.  No call to answer.  I felt... Nothing.”

“Though now I think there is a flaw to my theory.  How can you destroy a story?  How can you eradicate - belief?  How does one obliterate a force?  And if you found out how, there is - perhaps - a more poignant question.  Why?”

It’s a small place.  But they have books.  Considered vintage for the most part.  Quaint decor to some.  Mostly though - outdated, obsolete.  Why put words on paper when you can’t update the feed?  Can’t blast the most recent flash directly into peoples brains, stream it into their eyes and ears from the latest implant or wearable or device?

Anubis enjoys them.  His mortal form finds some kind of pleasurable satisfaction in turning pages rather than doom-scrolling.  The tactile nature of them is ultimately pleasing... Word pages, faded type... 

There a few other trinkets and antiquities around, either beneath little domes or inside glass cases, to be gazed upon or purchased by an occasional collector.  There’s something about being surrounded by the past that sets this mortal form at ease.  Which is probably entirely not the case for his... ‘guest’.  Or is he the guest?  Hard to tell.  But there’s steaming tea, in a proper china pot, with places set for two at the small table in the ‘book nook’.

Anubis ponders as he nibbles on a little cookie whether this would set Hephaestus ill at ease.  With no wires or neon, no cables...  Though there were discrete jacks beneath chairs for those who chose to indulge in new alongside the old.  It wasn’t entirely Anubis’ intention to set the other on edge, but if he were to hear out Hephaestus proposal, then he’d rather be somewhere he could focus... Could... Think.

And while the snug corner appears shaded ( Anubis presence seeping into the atmosphere a little ) it darkens even further when a substantial form blocks out the light.

“Matthew.”

His chair shuffles back with a small scuff-squeak on the wooden floor, Anubis standing and gesturing to the opposite seat.  

“Please, sit.  Try the tea.  It has quite an impeccable flavour.”

He doesn’t hold out his hand though.  Physical contact is still somewhat pushing boundaries.  He’s not exactly what you’d call - ‘a hugger’.

Minor pleasantries aside...  This little tete-a-tete has a point.  A purpose.  There are things to be consulted - apparently.  And curiosity is somewhat getting the better of him ( at least he’s a dog, not a cat, so hopefully there would be no killing of small domesticated creatures today ).

Location: Attaboy! evening

@ofjackals​

“There he is. Evening, Mr Saber,” Utu crooned softly, as if they didn’t know exactly where Anubis was.  Where he always was when he worked n the cafe.  Somehow whenever Anubis showed up, this particular cozy little niche was always devoid of mortals, ready for the Egyptian god’s presence.  Ordered, prepared.  Utu liked when Anubis was there.

Utu brought a refill of Anubis’ drink, and then motioned to one of the nearby chairs.  “May I?  I’m sure you’re busy but - I mean, I just wanted a moment of your time.  You can guess why.”  The only thing that currently occupied Utu’s mind at the moment.  Anyone who was vaguely familiar with Utu would know he couldn’t stop thinking about Pan, and everything about Pan.  Since the disappearance.  Since Kanaloa’s party.  Since all the alarming news surrounding his permanent un-existence. 

 “I’m planning a memorial for Pan, after the…the funeral,” Utu prompted, in case Anubis needed further incentive to invite Utu to sit with him.

x.

Anubis enjoyed the atmosphere of the cafe.  Not often venturing to the discrete location beyond that hidden door, he tends to opt for the cosy comfort of the cafe itself.  The smell of coffee and baked goods, sweet and bitter mingling with the lingering smell of the humans that wandered in and out.  It was a place for ‘people watching’ as he’d heard the passtime referred to... Seeing the hustle and bustle of those grabbing a quick caffeine hit before leaving in as much of a rush as they had arrived... Or those who, rather like himself... Chose to linger and savour the experience.

There’s a quick flick of eyes to Utu as he greets with a formality that brings a small curve of a smile to Anubis lips... 

“Ash, please... I think we’re well enough acquainted to dispense with the formalities.”

He uses the others chosen mortal name, as he had kindly done for him, especially within earshot of those who weren’t considered ‘immortal’.  

...Immortal. That word held significantly less meaning than it had only days ago. Pan’s death had shaken all of them.  The possibility of murdering a God...  But how?  A ‘God’ was like an idea.  And it was hard to kill an idea.  Yes, belief waxed and waned over time.  Worship and followers and faith fluctuated.  But even so far as one... Just one mortal held the memory of the God... They could exist.  Or at least, that had been Anubis’ theory.  He was now questioning his own conclusions about the nature of their existence.

“Yes, please join me.  I would appreciate the company.”

A very slight gesture as he graciously accepts the drink.  And for all Anubis was one to prefer a little - separation between himself and his fellow immortals...  There’s something about the current situation that makes him truly grateful for Utus presence.

“I always found it hard to see the point of them...”

He begins slowly.  Not criticising Utus suggestion, but rather offering his own thoughts on the matter.

“Funerals are respect for the body, now gone as the soul and spirit travel onward.  Those, I understand.  But memorials always seemed strange to me.  A memory is something to carry for all time - a living memorial.  Not something that needed to be shared or marked with occasion.”

It’s as much a confession as it is a sharing of thought.

“Perhaps... I see the point now.”  

There is nothing new under the sun.

That’s the saying, isn’t it?  And for all of lifes wondrous diversity, Anubis hadn’t encountered anything ‘new’ in a great many years... Until recently.  Until - Pan’s death.

“It’s very kind of you to do so.”

“I will, of course, offer any assistance I can - though I’m not tremendously familiar with the... Um... Propriety of such things.”

There’s a long pause.  You can practically see the cogs turning as the words arrive on his lips.

Event Starter | Uninvited (open.)

He watches in silence as bodies continue to filter in and out of the Cloud, his gaze sharp and filled to the brim with ire. Kanaloa’s home bleeds polychromatic across the inkblot water, a carousel of colour instilled into life one room at a time and Perun would have found the scene a lot more palatable if the irksome deity hadn’t built his mansion in the middle of a fucking lake. Which, as one might surmise from his slicked back hair and soaked as fuck clothes, doesn’t make sneaking around any easier.

Seriously dude, what the fuck.

Idle hands find their way into the pockets of his jeans, but Perun hisses and yanks them out and away from the saturated fabric. His clothes cling to him like second skin and he doesn’t like it, feels too exposed to the world, too —

As if right on cue, the sound of footsteps alerts him of another’s presence nearby and Perun feels his anger keenly as it glides its claws down his throat and slots them into the gut, smiling all the while. Without looking over at the approaching body, he peels himself away from the outer wall and snaps — “Can I fucking help you?”

✂ ━━

In comparison... Anubis was only - slightly damp.  He’d not had an invitation, but he had managed to negotiate an alternative way into the event, hitching a ride with one of the rather lavish catering boats busy ferrying delicacies and extravagances across the water to keep Kanaloa’s guests sated - some to the point of excess.  Which meant he didn’t look as though he’d just gone ten rounds with the kraken.

But at the quick, somewhat abrasive greeting, Anubis just stops and takes in the full sorry, soaked sight of the thunder god.  A slow blink, head tilting slightly gauging the air, tasting a fraction more... Metallic.  Possibly Perun leaching static along with his own apparent irritation.  Irritation at what though?  Being soggy?  Or something else?  Or maybe just a tangible emanation of the various drinks drugs, smokes and potions oozing to the exterior...

“I don’t know.  Are you offering specific help, or just help in general?”

“There is a pool inside.  They have towels and robes.  I could show you where it is if you’d like.”

There were also a lot of shed - but notably dry - clothes in the vicinity as those who’d arrived unprepared for an impromptu swim, loosened their inhibitions and shed them freely to indulge in the warm waters - Anubis is pretty sure the word for it is ‘frolicking’.   Anubis has also never... ‘frolicked’ in the entirety of his existence.

.

Tez leaned back in her chair as Anubis settled opposite her, unfazed by her teasing, prodding. They were cat and dog after all, in a way. Jackal and jaguar. Anubis was lucky; Tez didn’t even have her claws out.

Anubis, however, appeared to be taking their game of chess seriously. Serious was all she should ever expect from the death god. She had been the one to suggest chess, after all. Tez looked between the board and Anubis, and decided to play it safe. She mirrored his move, taking her knight to f6.

“We’ve only started the game,” Tez chided Anubis, knowing that he was asking about the party around them. Did she enjoy it? “It’s a distraction,” Tez said, drumming her fingers on the table. “It’s one of the best I’ve seen. It’s what most people want, you know?” Tez asked rhetorically, pulling out her e-cig for a short drag. Chocolate scented smoke wafted in Anubis’ direction. “A distraction from their lives, from their pain, from their existential crisis…” Anubis would know all about the latter. Ironically, distractions often lead mortals to his scales all the quicker. “Isn’t that why we descend? A distraction?" 

✂ ━━

If their representations were true - even if Tez did have her claws out, it’s very likely that Anubis would still be sitting there calmly, like a mildly disoriented puppy who was attempting to catch a frisbee for the first time... Enthusiastic in a sense, but a little clueless and uncoordinated.

Her move, a mirror of his own, was about as telling as his opening.  Pondering in silence for a moment, both the game and her words.

“Yes, but we aren’t people.”

Technically.  Mortal forms and descension might be an attempt at being something human-like.  But they would always be something - other.  Even if one possessed the ability to completely transcend their deity forms and become wholly mortal - the knowledge and the time imbued upon each and every one of them would never qualify...

“Existentialism is in and of itself a condition of the human experience, and is therefore a contributor to itself... Ironic that wanting to know the meaning, value and purpose of their own existence, of what makes them - human -  is one of the very things that does make them - human... It always reminds me of ouroboros...  the snake swallowing it’s own tail.”

Another piece is nudged across the board, mid thought.  Anubis settling once more into silence.  The clatter and clamour and chaos around them seeming to fade into the background.  His attention focused on the interesting conversation... The simplicity and complexity of the game before him...  And he’s not referring to chess.

“I wouldn’t claim to know why any deity would choose to descend.  Perhaps some appreciate a distraction.”

It’s not his reason.  It’s an honest interest in -- life.  In seeing people living, watching them make their choices.  How they align themselves to different beliefs - not religion, but rather personal beliefs, different moral codes.  How they justify their actions.  How they choose to be gentle or violent.  Kind or cruel... How all of those minute, seemingly inconsequential things all slip into the weight of their heart.. Lighter... Or Heavier... because of them.

“Is that why you are here?  You wished for a distraction from...?”

He leaves the question open.  Doesn’t presume.  Doesn’t necessarily expect an answer either - or at least, maybe not a truthful one.  Deities tended to play their reasons for doing... Well -- anything... Pretty close to their chest.  Eternal gamblers waiting for that last ace - or king - or queen - which might allow them to snatch some - victory or another.  

✂ ━━

If Anubis was ever so slightly - damp - as he wandered his way through the exuberance and hedonism of Kanaloas party, it was barely noticeable.  That was mostly because Anubis himself was - barely noticed.  Purposefully so.  He hadn’t been invited, nor had he sought to buy his way into the event...  He’d taken the rather more circuitous route ( one handy thing about being a lawyer, is that you tend to get to know people who have... alternative methods of addressing certain problems... ).

So he’s here.  Shrouded in black and further wrapped within shadow - lingering along the outskirts, avoiding the centre of anything ( especially attention ) like one of the bygone plagues.

Every now and then he feels the scrape within his alter-self - scales grinding about their pivot, unsettled and craving balance ( and possibly some WD40 ) ... A sure sign that there were other deities within the immediate vicinity.  And it’s a torn purpose.  He’s here to see if he can see anything - untoward - ( though ‘untoward things’ tended to happen around a lot of the deities on a daily basis, so that might be more difficult than originally anticipated... ) - something that might hint at a more nefarious intent.. Something that might give him more of an inkling about what may have led to Pans recent mortal demise ( and still no word of his alter-self from the immortal plane... ).  But how to observe without getting too... close.

A rather inconvenient problem.

Though something that would be unlikely to be a problem for too long... Because the scales squeak at proximity and there’s a subtle change of texture in the air...  Almost as though something fine and silken had drifted across his face like a gossamer veil...

...Which meant... Oh...  No...  Not now...  Not here...