Gwenivere’s restraint snaps so hard I swear I can it break, and in the next instant she charges faster than my eyes can follow. Artos back peddles just as fast, a set of daggers appearing in his hands as he skillfully deflects her attempts to impale him. I imagine this is something he’s had plenty of practice with.
Unlike his previous flustered appearance, he now moves with easy grace and despite his eyes still being unreadable black voids, I get the impression they’re shining bright with enthusiasm. I wonder if this is the best he can hope for when coming to meet his crush. She gets mad and scolds him, and they probably fight like this on the regular. In return he can confirm that, even if she doesn’t like him she still cares about the things he does. He can get a reaction. He can stay in her thoughts.
What a pervert.
I try keeping an eye on their fight at first, but they’re moving so fast it’s just blurs and clanging noises. So instead I take the time to evaluate my condition. I feel weird. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not in pain anymore. It’s more an uncomfortable feeling of there being more of me now than there’s supposed to be. It’s not like I have more limbs than I started with, but there is something different I can’t place. Like if my body was a house, it feels like someone added on an addition I didn’t ask for and have yet to take a look at.
At least I can move again. I shift about in the seat, testing my body. My movements feel slower than before and more awkward, like my entire body is swollen.
“Do you have any idea what you did?!” I turn to watch as Gwenivere and Artos circle each other, apparently taking a small break in their fight for her to vent.
“Uh…” Artos tries to say, his answer giving all the reason Gwenivere needs to try to stab him for a few more seconds. When they separate again he's looking at her like she's being the unreasonable one. “What’s the problem? Didn’t you already fix it?”
“No! I didn’t fix it!” Gwenivere roars at him, perhaps as upset about that as anything else. It certainly has my attention. “What you did can’t be fixed, and what I did might’ve only made it worse!”
Yes? Hello? I would really like to know more about those words that just came out of your mouth. Worse, you say? I do hope I'm not going to feel this bloated forever. That would be awful.
Artos actually comes to a stand still as he processes that, glancing over at me briefly. “But… he looks better.”
“That’s because he’s not in pain anymore and I’ve stopped the damaged.”
“Then…?” Artos squints at her, clearly having trouble seeing what the problem is.
“Argh!” Gwenivere makes a sound full of a thousand years’ worth of frustration. “He’s never going to be the same again! He’ll never get to live like a normal human ever again! Don’t you get it?!”
I mean, I wouldn’t say I’ve ever had what could be called a normal life to begin with, but I do find the way she cares about this so much to be pretty touching.
Artos is still looking at her blankly, like he’s still not sure what the fuss is about. “Well, but, I mean, it’s not like he’s crippled or anything now, is he?”
Gwenivere stops and stares at him intensely, and when she speaks her words almost sound calm. “Tell me Artos, even if your mad plan left no lasting harm, what were you planning on doing with the child after this?”
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Artos recognizes the trap like a true pro and valiantly tries not to fall into it by admitting what everyone already knows. That he had had exactly zero thoughts on what he would do with me after this. “I guess I figured it would depend on how things went here. Either I would take him back with me-” Gwenivere’s scoff makes her thoughts on that matter plain “-or he could just step off your balcony. As a soul, the decent to the mortal plane wouldn’t hurt him, and he would gather enough ether along the way to naturally form a physical body upon arrival. From there he could live whatever life he wanted. Tylain is a world full of opportunities.”
I look at the balcony, considering what he had just said. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might be able to live as a, you know, living person again. In a world with magic, no less. Granted, the odds of any new life I might get ending up exactly as it had the last time are significant, and the possibility does a lost to dampen any enthusiasm I might have for the idea. And yet… while my interest is somewhat mild, I am still interested. If there is even the slight possibility of being able to overcome my personal affliction and live in a world with magic of all things, then I’m not sure if I would be able to say no to that.
Gwenivere stares at Artos, her thoughts opaque. “And what exactly would you do with him if you took him back with you? Leave him in your closet with all your other forgotten things?”
The question is asked so calmly, but it’s the first time I see Artos give a genuine reaction. Not quite a flinch, more of a slight twitch. I guess he does have a conscience. Somewhere. “I’m sure I could find something else for him, with a soul like his.”
She shakes her head. “It’s a non-issue. As if I would ever let you take him back with you.”
I knew I could trust you Gwen. An honor student like you wouldn’t leave a cute kitten like me in the shady hands of the school delinquent. Not a chance!
“As for sending him down to the mortal plane, never mind just how far that would be stretching the limits of how much we can meddle in a mortal’s death, even if he weren’t permanently affected by what happened today he would come into existence in a world he doesn’t recognize and with no family or support. Mortals need those things. Without them you might as well be sending him to die. The fact he would have no origin other than falling from the sky would already make him stand out enough, but now? I’m not even sure how these changes will affect him, but I know it’s not going to be easy to hide. Are you willing to watch over him in place of the parents he won’t have?”
Artos doesn’t deign to answer a question I think we all know the answer to. “So, what? Are you going to send him off to Percival? Get him properly shipped off to wherever dead things are supposed to go?”
“That’s just it. I can’t. His soul has been altered so much I’m not even sure the child can be considered human anymore.”
Huh, well I guess I did always like playing as non-human characters. Seeing where the conversation is going I make a decision and stand up. Best to do this while they’re still distracted with each other. Walking feels floatier than it had been before, but I still make it to the balcony’s edge just fine. If he was lying about being able to jump off into being alive again then worst case I’ll end up in a snow bank so deep I'll have to start living down there.
“Does this mean you’re going to keep him?” Artos doesn’t quite manage to keep the hope out of his voice. Or the enthusiasm. “That would make this is a shared custody situation, wouldn't it? What do you think the rules in regards to visitation should be? Considering how little you trust me, I think all visits should be supervised, don’t you? Strictly supervised.”
I’ve only just managed to reach the edge when he says that, the wintery mountain scape sweeping majestically out below me, and I’m chuckling before I realize it. He's a right ass, but at least he has a functioning sense of humor. That can cover a variety of sins.
It’s suddenly very quiet behind me and I turn to find the two gods staring at me with varying expressions of disbelief. I’ll admit, I preferred it when they didn’t pay me much attention. Being stared at like this is uncomfortable, but I suppose it’s not bad to say goodbye. They’ve given me such an interesting experience after all.
I smile at them in a way I haven’t in years, all free and easily happy, because I know the effect it tends to have on people. I’m sure gods should be fine though. “It’s been fun, I guess.” I murmur in a vague farewell, hardly louder than a whisper. Enjoying the way their expressions morph into pure shock, I let myself fall back into what will either be a new life, or the deepest snow angel of my ever.