#ninetheking

The Devas knew about the twins long before they were called “Crow” and “Otter”. While all Devas were at least familiar with each other, a tie that traced back to when they were a united people; most have gone centuries without seeing another of their race, their dwindling numbers and scattered lives lessening the chance of an encounter. Some would reconvene in the Prime Material Plane, catching up with their brethren in the short time they had together before their memories were again taken, before their lives again lived. Whispers sprung up about a millennium ago, escaping the mouth of a jewel-toned Deva, who had lived as a priest before his passing. Brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, he hissed of a charitable merchant who used his wealth to help the needy, and the orphaned child he ran away with, his wife distraught with grief. It was my age, she howled. How could she compete with the supple youth of a child, with eyes that shone like crystals and skin that smelled like honey. A lifetime passed before another Deva stormed into the plane, an uncharacteristic fury in their eyes. This time they spoke of a young couple, born into rivaling families, who, in their failure to reunite the clans, ingested a cup of nightshade and ignited a war that blazed through cities. Slowly, names started to surface, tales of love and lust springing across the land. The charming Altair, who was betrothed to his kingdom and duties, and the temple maiden Vega, who would fly into his castle on the backs of ravens until it seemed that she, too, had grown a pair of wings. After Altair and Vega, murmurs arose about the great wizard Merlin and his adolescent apprentice, who plead that age was simply a barrier to their love. They gasped at the Shepherd Leda and her furry mount, a beast that had the wool and horns of a sheep yet was twice as tall as a human and, if rumors were true, gave milk as fresh as— The few times the twin souls entered the Prime, the air would fill with the bite of mint, the daze of honey. The mixture was crisp, saccharine, and never divided. When honey arrived, mint would soon follow. And when he didn’t, she would depart as soon as she could. The two were famous for their endeavors, tiptoeing every mortal line there was to cross. Devas would frown discussing the artifacts the two had left behind in their many lives, the tapestries of angels engaging in fleets of passion, the repurposed dungeons that contained one too many devices. By now there were numerous tales of the two lovers, back when they were man and wife, back when neither was male and neither was female, back when the stars and the clouds and the ocean breeze could not tear the two from each others’ arms. It came as no surprise, then, that the two would eventually find their way into the same womb, holding each other long before they had hands to hold. Due to circumstance, they were separated; he, a fledgling crow flying aimlessly, and she, a lone otter drifting into the current. Many in the Prime would call the bonds of family sacred, ones among siblings more so. Yet a handful knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time before the two would meet again, the zest of mint and glaze of honey mixing once more.