“Oh – no no, you don’t eat that.”
“Why the hell shouldn’t I eat it if they put it out here for me?”
“Generally speaking, Morgan, wood is not something normal people eat.”
About five minutes in and Enos was ready to die. A month ago, Morgan had been returned to their world, and a 3000 years long absence from their universe that left him banished in a dimension of his own left the idiotic fell god pretty far behind on things.
There was only one human Enos trusted to handle the affairs of the gods.
Turns out Grace and Morgan were a mix as good as gasoline and fire.
“What DO ‘normal’ people eat?” Morgan looked offended, with a pair of cheap wood sticks in his hands – or more accurately, a stick and a half. Enos had to admit he always remembered Morgan being a voracious eater, but not so… desperate? Idiotic? He ran out of words for how stupid Morgan was, there was no helping redundancy.
“Normal people eat meat, breads, vegetables, fruits, and REAL FOOD.” Grace shouted the last part, and accusingly pointed her complete pair of chopsticks at Morgan. This lunch was a mistake.
“That’s vague, man.” Morgan annoyingly picked up modern slang all too fast, and was sounding a lot like the girl across the table.
“Even Enos eats real food! I’m sure he doesn’t have to, but he does. And he has okay taste in it, too.” Grace huffed, and Enos jumped a little as he was dragged into this exceedingly idiotic conversation.
“You’re right, eating is unnecessary,” Enos said airily, uninterested in convincing Morgan that eating his utensils was a bad idea. The dipstick could learn the hard way that splinters were a thing, Enos didn’t care. “But it’s a very nice luxury.”
“I get hungry, yeah,” Morgan muttered. “And in that whole BANISHMENT I didn’t have a lot to pick from.” He put way too much emphasis on that one word, knowing Enos would hear it loud and clear. Like a child, this one – he sighed. How much time was there left in this day? Eleven hours? Too many. Enos would have loved to sleep all of those away.
“Unfortunate.” Enos only offered this one word.
“Unfortunate my ass! What’d you think I was gonna do, roll over like a dog and accept this?” Morgan snarled, slamming a fist on the table.
“Hey!” Grace interjected, right away. “Watch it, toilet brush! You’re going to knock things over! If you break the table I’m not letting them stick me with the bill.” This got Morgan’s attention, but his anger was shoved to the side for sheer and utter confusion.
“What’d she call me?” He leaned in to Enos, lowering his voice – not enough to prevent Grace from hearing the fell god, for she clearly laughed.
“An insult,” Enos explained pointedly. Morgan growled under his breath, sharp teeth grinding together, but he settled back down. Odd. Perhaps he didn’t understand well enough, but admittedly Grace had also for once in her godforsaken life shown restraint along with Morgan. She could have gone for something completely scathing, as the wordy little brat she was, but no. That was fine. Enos felt like he wasn’t actively dying for once.
“If you’re so hungry…” Grace changed subject. “You can order another entree, Morgan. But don’t eat your chopsticks, okay? That’s bad. People don’t do that.” People also don’t have teeth like a shark and obvious fell magic poisoning, Enos noted mentally, but it wasn’t worth the energy to say this out loud. He long gave up on “Morgan” and “Normal.”
At least the rest of the meal went decently, not without bumps but smoothly enough that Enos could let his guard slip a teeny bit.
Enos could feel eyes on them. Not eyes of intrigue, but caution – the humans were wary.
Well, he did have a six foot talk hulk of a man with fell poisoning symptoms at his side, and then the local weirdo Grace as well.
“Enos.” Morgan leaned in, a familiar gesture, and despite everything, Enos moved closer to, letting Morgan whisper in his ear like the old days. It was oddly comforting, Morgan was so big and naturally imposing and yet he lowered himself to a level where he posed no threat to Enos’ much more frail frame. “They’re staring. What to do?”
“Nothing,” Enos whispered back, straightening out and looking up at Morgan. “Let them stare. It’s your eyes, they’re scared of you and your magic. But they will not act.”
“Yeah.” Graced jumped in. “Fell magic is considered kind of a huge no-no. Dunno how it was 3000 years ago, but you know – your eyes basically scream ‘look at me, I use forbidden black magic that consumes the souls of the innocent!’ and people don’t like that.”
“That’s too bad,” Morgan said, without a hint of worry. “I still use it.”
“It truly is,” Enos said airily, and this earned him a jab in the ribs from Morgan and almost a furious attack from his sailor’s mouth.
“I’ve never met a fell magician before,” Grace admitted, very much in a move to pull attention away from Enos again. This was an act of incredible mercy. “I’m surprised that you’re nothing like the old tales my mom used to tell me about the fallen god.”
“What? Did she paint me a monster?” Morgan asked, grinning wide, and with a smile like his Enos knew that the whole monster thing wasn’t far off.
“Duh.” Grace snorted. “You also got painted as some mastermind evil overlord – that was wrong, too! Turns out you’re just a dumbass!” Enos burst out laughing, doubling over, and Morgan was left silent, staring down at Grace as she matched him without missing a beat.
“You’re gonna regret that,” Morgan snarled, this time it was easy to tell this wasn’t an idle threat. He stood tall, using all his height to tower over Grace, and the girl stood her ground, her eyebrows knitting together in a hint of worry that broke through her poker face.
“Ah-ah, don’t do that – ” Enos hissed, and with a snap of his fingers a golden cable appeared at his finger tip. The other end wrapped around Morgan’s neck, and yanking his hand back, Enos dragged Morgan away from the little creature that threatened him.
“Fuck!” Morgan cursed, immediately, the man staggering and almost falling over from the force of the pull. Grace whistled, putting a hand on her hips as her weight shifted to one side.
“Very nifty trick, my man,” She murmured, and Morgan growled like a caged animal.
“You got lucky this time,” He snapped, and then turned his murderous glare to Enos.
“Behave and it won’t come up again.” Enos delivers a simple ultimatum, snapping his fingers, and the cable is gone just as fast as it appeared. Morgan snorted, and again he seemed to show some modicum of intelligence and restraint.
“You mean this is the FIRST time you’ve EVER done any of this?” Grace’s voice broke through Enos’ trance again. This time Grace was leading them by a bunch of clothing stores – window shopping as it was – and Morgan was trailing along behind her. It was almost cute how he was matching her pace and she was looking up at him, not afraid at all.
“Uh, yeah. Ask that slut over there what I’ve been doing for three thousand years.” Morgan cocked his head in Enos’ direction.
“Slut?” Grace chose the weirdest thing to latch on to, and Enos groaned. “Hm – yeah, you’re right.” She concluded, and Enos jolted up.
“What the fuck?” Enos stammered out, and both Morgan and Grace were cackling. “You’re lucky, Grace. If you called any other god a slut that might be a smite worthy offense.”
“But you’re not going to smite me~” Grace replied in a sing-song voice. “Still, today is big! You got to go do a bunch of normal people things, Morgan! We HAVE to commemorate.” She rushed back to his side, grabbing his hand and starting to pull him further up the sidewalk. Morgan could have resisted easily, but for some reason beyond Enos he went along with it.
Enos shook his head, tired. This day had been something. He noted never to put Grace and Morgan together again, since matches and tinder should not be friends.
“No, no – it’s simple, really. You don’t need to understand the nitty-gritty – ” Grace’s voice is a little distant as Enos stopped to stare into the window of a store selling suits. A lot of them look nearly identical, in various dark, bleak shades with slight differences in cuff or how the lapel is folded. “You just need to understand it’s a box that renders perfect images with the push of a button.”
“I don’t get it.” The Fell God is as succinct as ever. Enos tuned out now. There was no point. The suits were more interesting. Perhaps Enos should get one at one point, it seemed to be the modern day powerful man’s clothing. Enos had these elaborate, thick robes of silk, with decadent patterns and lavish gold over a soft cream for his godly attire. They made him seem bigger than he was, but nowadays that doesn’t seem to be of much use – a suit might accentuate his small physique and far too slim waist. Enos had the build of a delicate woman, not the King of Gods – would something that human men wore change that? At all?
“Enos, look!” Grace nearly crashed into him, breaking through his thoughts again, like a stone through glass. “I tried taking a selfie but this is the best one I could get with you two dolts!” She says through giggles, shoving her phone at him to see. In the image, Grace is up front, smiling with a coy wink, two fingers up in a peace sign. Next to her stood Morgan, with that one look he always had, the one that Enos knew was about to be followed with a what the fuck is this. Lastly, between them, in back, Enos was there, looking pensive and unaware his picture was being taken.
“That’s so weird,” Morgan commented, clearly still lost.
“Lucky you.” Enos handed her phone back. “You have a selfie with us. Not that it’s important.”
“And that’s the beauty of it.” Grace proudly beamed, lifting the hem of her dress up to shove her phone into the pocket of her shorts underneath. It was the only hint she wasn’t entirely graceful as her name implied, that she allowed her shorts to be seen for a mere second and imply she wasn’t perfect.
“Okay, you guys! Let’s take the train a little out of town, then – nothing else here but shops for rich people!” Grace clapped her hands together, and ran off ahead of them. Morgan and Enos both quickly fell into pace behind her, following her lead without question.
“Enos.” Morgan leaned in, and Enos subconsciously moved along with the gesture, their shoulders touching as Morgan got close to speak in a hushed voice again. “Why her?”
“Think about it.” Enos glanced up at the taller god, a sly grin on his face. “She has the guts to call me a slut to my face.” Morgan considered this, and nodded slowly, seeming pleased with this answer.
“It’s true, though.” Morgan added, with a snicker. “You really are, you two-bit whore.”
“Yeah, I know I have bad standards. I ended up with you more than once,” Enos said dismissively, and with a deft whack to the back of his head he stumbled forward, rubbing the spot Morgan hit him ruefully.
“Shut the fuck up, Enos!” Morgan roared, since now the joke went too far. “I’ll kill you where you stand!”
“HEY!” Grace had noticed by now that things weren’t smooth sailing, and she spun around on her toes, her skirt flaring as she stared the two gods down like they were nothing. “You two stop your weird flirting already. We have to hurry to catch the train.” With that, she turns and marched off, hands balled into fists and her chin jutting out in her proud fury.
Morgan was paused, scowling, a storm brewing under his skin, but he was hesitant still.
“See what I mean about her?” Enos gestured with a quick flick of his wrist, smiling again.
“Maybe,” Morgan grumbled, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, lapsing back into his natural state of being vaguely angry at nothing.