A Lullaby For Gods Chapter 168

#11: ABSINTHE by IDKHOW

27 HOURS AGO

Something has caught him.

Davesprite freezes in mid-air where the wind has cushioned his fall. Above him is the angry, pulsing tear in the sky that he's fallen through, and below him is miles and miles and miles of meadow. That would have hurt. He might have been a bird and a sprite with the ability to fly, but being hurtled down at breakneck speeds by something invisible pulling at his midriff had made balancing himself upright and focusing on incorporeality nearly impossible. He would have hit the ground.

There had been a flash, and then he was spinning in the air, wings dangerously close to snapping. Then, there was wind, slowing his descent, setting him on his back, and…he was stopped several meters from crashing into the ground and breaking every single bone in his body.

And now the wind is buoying him up in place. Something is actively keeping him there.

"...Egbert?" he hazards. Has to be, right? Unless this is a new timeline he's gotten pulled into. The one he'd fallen in after New York was a dud. Of course it was, that place was doomed and dead.

The sky's pretty damn blue here, though, so maybe this one's alive? Earth again, maybe?

"John?" he tries once more.

A face ripples into view in front of him, and with it, the rest of whoever's got him. Her hands are on either side of his head, and whatever's cushioned his neck and spine from snapping when he was falling turns out to be her lap.

She smiles, canines alarming sharp.

Davesprite goes incorporeal on impulse and falls through the air again, stopped only by a hand grabbing the back of his shirt. Great. Now he's dangling in the air in the middle of buckass nowhere and a stranger is laughing at him.

"Calm down," she says, voice as airy as the wind around her. "You'll snap your wings, little bird."

Well that's just rude. She’s barely holding onto his weight, who the fuck is she calling little bird?

"I'll let you go on three," she says. "Don't panic. Remember to float."

He’s fine. It's like a ten story drop from here and he's got wings, for fuck's sake. He can manage that. The wind-girl counts, and on three, as promised, lets him go.

He drops an inch and floats, lifting himself upright, wings flapping and sprite tail whipping back close to his body. The girl descends to his level, feet landing flat on a patch of air like she's standing on level ground.

She folds her hands behind her back and inclines her head downward, right eye peering up at him while her left is hidden by short, silver-white hair. She just stares for a minute, unblinking. Anime-looking little creep.

"You're alright?" she asks, and as she does, something around her hides. He blinks at the sudden absence – he'd barely even noticed there was something there, but now that it's gone, the lack of it is obvious.

She just hid her timeline from him. What the fuck.

He eyes her suspiciously from behind his glasses. Obviously not an ordinary Breath player, then.

"Yeah," he says, cautious.

"Good," she smiles again, still unblinking. "I don't just save people for free, you know. You owe me now."

…what the fuck. What the hell is happening.

"You could have broken your neck. You might be a sprite, but you're still mortal." She puts her hands together, pointing them towards him. "I saved your life."

Davesprite watches her (and she still doesn't blink; what the fuck) and lifts a hand to the hilt of the sword stuck in his chest.

Wind-girl laughs.

And then, as if that isn't creepy enough, she licks her lips.

"Hey, Dave," she says, totally not ominous at all, how the hell does she know his name? "Can I eat one of your wings?"

#

In another island universes away, Sapphrel Angeles and Anshu Jaeger lie face down on their house’s living room floor in despair.

"He's going to kill me," Anshu wails, sitting up to pull her hair in frustration. "He and Eri are both gonna kill me!"

"You're already dead," Saph groans into the carpet.

"They're gonna kill me again."

"They're soft on you; Eridan's going to double-kill me." Saph pushes themself up on their hands. "He brought you here 'cause he didn't want anyone using your powers and this was supposed to be covert!"

"I can't believe I'm better with my powers possessed!" Anshu yells, and then proceeds to cry herself into a puddle, tears rolling down her cheeks as she flops onto the floor on her side. "That's unfair! What the hell!"

"God damn it." Saph puts their face into their hands. "Where the hell am I supposed to get another time player!"

#

Wind-girl's teeth aren't just for show, it turns out, because she's absolutely fucking serious when she asks if she can eat one of his wings. Davesprite makes the mistake of sarcastically answering, "Sure, you wanna dip them in gravy?" and then her smile widens, her dress suddenly overlaid with the outline of a frilly, magical-girl-esque outfit, made from glowing pink light.

Instead of a ribbon tied around her waist, however, there's multiple small chains wrapped around her middle, looping to her back, and all ending with massive bear traps.

They aren't weighed down by gravity like they should be, instead floating in the air behind her like sentient snakes.

"Primadonna Girl," she says, and suddenly it clicks. Heart player. That's a Stand. "Dance."

Davesprite unsheaths his sword and blocks one of the bear traps lunging at him with an upward strike, but with all of the damn things headed towards him at every angle, it's an obvious lost fight trying to block all of them. He goes intangible instead.

Wind-girl lifts a hand, fingers briefly wrapped in dark blue energy twitching, and suddenly he's not.

What the fuck, what kind of OP shit is this?!

Davesprite dives instead, swooping down towards the meadow as fast as he can as the traps snap! and clank! above him, metal jaws smashing shut with a force that would have torn chunks out of him had they bitten. There has to be a range limit to the chains; he just has to get away far enough. He flies as low as he can.

The Space insignia lights up below him as he dips close to the grass. Bright green starts to wrap around his body. Wait, wait, wait, what the hell, that's unfair!

"You said I could," Wind-girl says, suddenly next to him as he's teleported from the ground to the air again. "Nobody likes someone who makes promises they don't intend to keep."

"That was a fucking joke!" he says, whirling around quickly to put distance between the both of them, sword ready.

Wind-girl finally blinks. "It was?" she asks. "I couldn't tell. Aaaaahh." She sighs, and her Stand dissolves into nothing around her, the bear traps included. Her hair whips about as a breeze blows past, sighing with her. "You should be more careful. Let me teach you something."

She lifts a finger.

"You shouldn't say things that can be misconstrued as an agreement with a Blood player, a Heart player, or a Doom player. Blood players thrive off of connections, Doom players thrive off of systems. Some Heart players are good at exploiting parts of people."

"...okay," he says, still not lowering his sword, though he gives her a skeptical once-over. Not that it shows. "You're one of those Heart players?"

"Yup! I'm a Thief. I steal the self. Or parts of people."

That makes so much sense.

She lifts another finger. "That's twice I've helped you now. You owe me again."

"What the hell is wrong with you," he says, because what.

She lifts a shoulder. "Can't give shit away for free in this economy."

"I didn't ask you to tell me that."

"You could have plugged your ears. You don't take things from a stall just because you pass it, right?"

He stares at her in disbelief. She folds her hands behind her back again and dips her head to innocently look at him through her eyelashes. Oh, this little…if an angler fish's light was sentient, it would be this infuriating Mew Mew reject.

"Fuck you, I don't have to pay up," Davesprite says. "I didn't even know you were charging. That's false advertisement."

"It's not my fault you didn't check the price tag first."

"There was an understanding that it was free."

"If you take an item that doesn't have a price tag from a store, it's still shoplifting. If it's a misunderstanding, the second is still on you since you've already been told. Ceteris paribus, yes?"

"That is not how ceteris paribus works."

"You've fallen to a place not your own and you've assumed the rules you are familiar with are applicable here. You are shown it is not, and yet you still assume anyway. But the logical conclusion is that if one thing is different here, that difference must exist in other aspects." Wind-girl tilts her head again, grinning.

She's having fun. What a…

"I just fell out of – " He points to the rift above him, now strangely not glowing like it had been minutes earlier. " – Satan's asscrack, and you want me to think about economics?"

"The economy is ever-present in our daily lives."

…has he ever hated anyone faster? He doesn't know. Barring meeting Hal, Eridan, Roxy, and Anshu on the island, his social life's been pretty quiet after he hopped to the new Alpha timeline. He hasn't had much chance to interact with all the weirdos existence has to offer.

Wind-girl starts laughing.

"It's fine. You can be chauvinistic and call me names." She leans forward and mock-whispers. "That one's for free."

"Fuck off."

She laughs again, dissolving into wind before recondensing into her body behind him, hovering over his shoulder. He leans away, wary.

"Tell you what. I can help you with aaaanything you need while you're here," she says.

"No thanks."

"You haven't even heard my price yet. It's not a lot. You won't notice it's gone when I take it." She smiles with her panther teeth. "You're lost all the way here, and I'm pretty sure you've gathered you're pretty far from home. You're a smart one, Dave. You know you’ll have no idea how things work."

"Still no thanks."

"Okay." Wind-girl shrugs and backs off, fluidly gliding away on air like she's on skates. "Have fun then, orange pop."

And then she's gone, dissipating into a strong breeze that races past into the forest.

Thank fuck. What a weirdo.

Though now that she mentions it, where the hell is he?

#

PRESENT

Three comes back sometime in the early hours of the dawn, anxiety wracking his whole body. He stops by the front doorway of the house and stays there when he sees the others flipping through photo albums, barely even noticing Dirk by the staircase as he descends to the ground floor.

He looks to his older sibling, opens his mouth, closes it, and then winces.

"What is it?" One asks.

"M has given me 24 hours to find Four and her new playmate," he says. "If I fail, he's ripping my intestines out."

"...heroic death, I'm pretty sure."

Three grimaces again. "Can you watch my cat for me?"

"Sure thing." One throws him a thumbs up. He nods and immediately turns heel.

Dirk reaches the ground floor landing. "Do you need any help –"

"No."

The god is already booking it down the porch, not bothering to turn around. One chuckles and waves a hand, calling out, "Good luck staying intact! Bye bye, little brother!"

"Bye bye, otouto!" Damara yells, which One immediately echoes, ending up with them doing a repeated back and forth call.

Three looks back and flips them both off.

"Ten he's gonna get his shit ripped out," Seven says, slapping a bill onto the table.

"Ah, fuck, now you're gonna make me bet on him," Damara says. "Fifteen he survives."

"Twenty they both get fucked up by M," One says.

All three of them glare at each other for a moment before snickering and returning back to what they were looking at. Dirk approaches the couch, looking between them and the still-open door. Seven crooks a finger and it closes by itself.

"I have to ask since the guy seems prone to violence –" Dirk starts, but One waves a hand and immediately answers.

"Oh, the Guardian's serious. He's killed us every now and then when we piss him off," they say. "It probably won't be a heroic death, but depending on who Four's found and if she takes an interest…she can be a bit much. He’ll essentially be rescuing who she’s after. So…" They shrug.

Dirk's pretty sure that's the sister who found him when he crashed into the ocean; she hadn't tipped off any red flags considering she just dropped him off and went about her own business. She's also been very friendly with Three during the few times Dirk's seen them together.

"Three can handle himself," Seven says. "He's not a child."

Dirk reaches up to his neck, just to remind himself there are no burns there. He's well-aware how absolutely fucking terrifying the Sun God is.

Maybe it's for the best Three leaves alone.

#

The sunrise properly comes; Three does not return, not that it's too much cause for worry since it's only been a few hours. One and Seven don't seem alarmed yet either, and the god is certainly capable, so Dirk puts the thought on the backburner.

One’s manor has a huge kitchen, with how often they have guests over. Since Dirk's already used to it from a whole year on Kisaragi, he wordlessly assists them, Hal, and Seven with breakfast. Damara, princess that she is, sits by the island and watches them putter around.

"You could help," Seven tells her while he washes the pots.

She snorts. "Why the hell would I do that when you're capable? Hurry up, by the way."

Seven throws her a tired look. She flips him off with a grin, and he sighs, muttering under his breath, "Annoying."

"Huh?" Damara stands from her seat, slipping into her mother tongue. "What did you say, ugly?"

Seven easily matches her. "I said you're annoying, brat,"

"わる – ?!" A knife starts floating near Seven's face. "You piece of shit, you ate all my pretzels yesterday –"

Seven swats the knife away and drops the pots back into the sink with a loud clank. "I've had enough of putting up with you just because we're roommates –"

"You keep eating my stuff!"

"You don't pay rent money!"

"I reiterate," One says, long-sufferingly. "I hate this fucking family."

Hal chuckles as he takes over Seven's chores while the boy goes over to angrily yell with Damara about both of them being terrible roommates to each other (expected given they've had to put up with each other for months now). The android says something to One in Neapolitano, making them cackle loudly.

Damn, how long's the guy been around them to pick up a whole new language?

They all somehow manage to scrape together a meal in the midst of the bickering. Three still doesn't come back even after they've all eaten and cleaned up.

"It's only been a couple hours," Seven says when Dirk checks the clock for the umpteenth time. "Four's pretty hard to find when she doesn't wanna be found."

"I imagine with all the wind, it's not easy," Dirk says, turning away.

There's nothing else to do now – no party, no office to work on, no battlebot to tinker with in the immediate area. Damara has taken to amusing herself with the cat, and Dirk's had way too much time with that thing to want to spend more with it now.

"One," he says instead, catching the god's attention from where they’re scratching behind the cat's ears. The little bastard is rolled over on the floor being petted by them and Damara. "Where's your library?"

#

The library here isn't as big as the office in Three's house, but it's still impressive. It has more windows and window seats, along with bean bags in one corner, clearly made to be visited by more people than just its owner.

"This place a house or a school?" Dirk asks as he steps into the library.

One chuckles. "Mm, kinda both? Three and Seven are too reclusive to really keep people with them."

Dirk's about to point out they're hosting two people, but given Seven and Damara just fought each other for pretzels earlier, yeah, they're probably right.

"When our students visit, they usually stay here if they're not staying with relatives on the island. S'why I've got a lot of guest rooms."

"So a hotel?"

"That's probably a better descriptor. Hotel de la Muerte." One puts their hands on their hips as they look around the space. The shelves aren't as tall as the ones back home, which makes sense if this is supposed to be accessed by non-godtiers who can't fly. This library is instead separated by levels. "What are you looking for?"

"Anything on drifting. I need more information."

One turns to him, eyebrow raised. "You want to see another memory of nearly being cooked alive or something?"

"No," Dirk says. "I need to learn how to find a connection back to Earth."

"Ah." One nods. "You're ready to go home?"

"Might be time to."

The god hums, thoughtful for a moment. "You know it'll take a while and you might over- or underestimate where you drift, yes? It's not gonna be easy."

"I'll take anything," he says.

One fixes him with an inquisitive stare. It doesn't make the hair on the back of his neck stand like it does when Seven does his creepy not-blinking thing, but it's…cold. Heavy.

"Your goal is to go home, right?" they ask.

"Yeah, and my options are drifting or…whatever the hell you and Seven are planning," he says.

One snorts. "We're not actually planning anything," they say, turning away to head for a small…elevator? It looks like one, just with a ramp and rail instead of being a massive metal box. They motion for him to follow. "It was Damara's suggestion; if another version of you is more powerful and on Earth, maybe we could call him over and he could help."

They step onto the ramp. Dirk gets on with them.

"You know we can fly, right?" he asks.

"Oh, but the lift is much more fun." They press a button to close the rail and then pull a lever. The ramp starts ascending smoothly, the sensation making Dirk stagger for a moment while his stomach flips.

They stop on the fourth level. One steps out.

"Could he?" Dirk asks.

"Could who what?"

"Could…my future self help?" he asks. Sure, he's apparently able to match the fucking Sun in a fight to the point where he's killed him, but he's not that powerful, is he?

"I think he could," they say.

Dirk stops walking. Ahead of him, so does One. They sigh.

"Yeah, I know," they say, grimacing. "Rough, huh?"

"How would it work, exactly?" Dirk asks. “If he helps.”

"If I were to guess, he'd take over you and make you drift with Hal. From there, you can follow the connection home," they say.

That…sounds a lot less daunting than expected, actually.

"Could he possess me from where he is, then? He’s done it before."

One, who had been turning away to resume walking, freezes. Their head snaps back towards him. "What?"

"He…did it before,” Dirk cautiously repeats.

"He what?"

Dirk hesitates. "It was only once," he says. "To my knowledge."

"To your knowledge. Most of the people he possesses tend to lose time," One says, frowning. "When was this?"

"Middle of the night, some time back; I thought there was an intruder in the house, went to check, blacked out, and when I came to, I was back in bed. Remember a few things here and there, but not much else," he lies. No need to piss One off because his other self can't keep his magic to himself.

Their jaw tightens; they force out a sigh in an attempt to calm down.

"That's a loophole, I guess," One mutter. "He's banned from Kisaragi."

"So I've gathered," Dirk says.

"I suppose he could help you drift from where he is. It should be possible at his level," One says, and then winces. "The…only question is if he would be willing to do so."

"Can't you add it to his sentence or something?" Hal had mentioned that once, right? Having another thing stacked to his sentence.

They shake their head.

"I would have to call him here." One sighs again, tiredly this time. "It's…" They wave a hand. "I was in charge of the treaties after the war. One of the things we set was complete no-contact from him to anything or anyone from this universe."

They click their tongue.

Realization flashes across Dirk's face (though to the untrained eye, nothing happens). "That's why possessing me is a loophole. I'm not from here. I’m him."

"Correct." They frown down at their carpet. "I've put a jammer over the whole universe so prayers from him or to him can't get past either, in case he tries anything."

"Isn't that…"

"Kind of extreme? Yeah, but…you'll see exactly why we had to do that. Soul magic is very…mm.” They cross their arms. “The effects of it are very dangerous. Both he and Three needed to be separated," they say. "Three's soul's stabilized now, of course, but it wouldn't have without that cut-off of constant exposure to him."

Right. Corrosive Heart magic. Without a blocker, it probably would have burned the god from inside out. At least, that's what he's getting from what One is saying.

Dirk mirrors their posture into the discussion. Maybe they don't need to go research diving if they can convince his future self to help. "Can you call him back?"

One takes a moment, expression slowly going sour. "You want to call him here?"

"If he can help get me home, he should only be here for a little while, right?"

"...this is a bad idea." One runs a hand over their face. "Hang on, let me think."

They squat on the ground, putting their hands together as they focus on the carpet, though their gaze is hazy.

“The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it is,” Dirk says, sitting down on the floor across from them. “That’s already evident with the fact that there’s yet another person here. Clearly, the rifts need to be closed.”

“They’ll stay open until I figure out how to safely pass between them,” One says, automatically. “I’m not giving Hal up that easily.”

Dirk stops at that. Damn. “And the safety of your universe?”

“Hal and I are linked. So long as he stays on Kisaragi, his presence will register as my own. We’ll be fine.” One waves a hand. “It’s another matter entirely with you and Damara. Nothing is tying you here. Not yet,” they add, looking up at him. “Your soul is intact at this point in time.”

“So let’s get us home,” he says. “We’re in agreement, aren’t we?”

One’s expression goes hesitant again.

They run their fingers through their hair in frustration. “Don’t misunderstand. I want you guys back to your world quickly; the sooner my universe is safe, the better,” they say, “And it’s been delightful to meet you both like this. It really has, but…”

Ah.

Dirk understands. He wouldn’t want to meet a version of a friend who’s gone off the deep end either. He reaches up his neck, fingers running over unmarred skin. He’s fine. He’s alright.

“At the same time, I don’t want to ask you to accidentally overshoot every time you practice drifting either. Who knows what you’ll see out there. There are so many possibilities for the self.” One stands up, sighing loudly. They smooth out their sweater. “If you want to call him…we can do so. We’ll have to discuss this with everyone else, of course, but. Sure.”

Dirk stays where he is. On one hand…obviously and understandably, everyone here isn’t keen on calling back a version of him who killed their brother and participated in a war in this universe. On the other — he reaches up to his throat again. How many memories is he going to accidentally trip onto, especially since the closest self he can drift with is, well, him?

…what the hell is he doing? He’s never had the best sense of self-preservation, since when did he start being afraid?

He opens his mouth to say it’s fine, actually, he can wait, he can tough out practicing how to drift — wait. Practice. He needs practice. He doesn’t know how to drift yet, he’s not at the same level as his future self.

The Earth he’d come from had a timeline so corrupt that whatever changes were made were now linear instead of resulting in offshoots. If he’s from that Earth, is it possible that that defect carries? If this Hal is allowed here on Kisaragi just because he’s linked to One, then it should be, yes? He’s linked to his Earth if this universe is rejecting his presence. This is his future, but to him, his future hasn’t happened yet. It doesn’t exist.

And even if it doesn’t result in linear changes, if he ends up creating an offshoot timeline…at least he never becomes this guy, right? He never kills anyone. Never condemns someone to live with an unstable soul, never ruins someone’s life, never ruins a whole universe.

Maybe that’s worth it. It may have already happened here, but he’s from the past. It never has to happen at all. One asked him what he was going to do; if he had a choice, he would have never come here, just to spare this world the horror of him.

“Okay,” Dirk says, “Let’s call other-me.”

#

He and One return to the main hall to alert the others of his decision. Hal throws him a side-eye, Damara looks curious, and Seven doesn’t react at all, though Dirk doesn’t know him well enough to read him anyway. It’s the guy’s decision that has weight considering he’s the god here, but he doesn’t protest. Instead he just nods quietly and says, “Let’s ask M, then.”

“If he goes home and this universe is safe, finally, I could not care less,” the First Guardian says, suddenly in the room, a finger trailing across book spines on a nearby shelf. “Do as you will.”

Dirk tenses. That’s it, then. They’re calling other-him.

One lets out a breath. “Okay. Alright,” they say, trying to smile and clapping their hands together once, but the temperature in the room is slowly dropping, signaling their nervousness. “Let’s call him in.”

“Are we going to need an altar or something?” Dirk asks, facing them.

“Nope. All prayers are barred, remember? That wouldn’t work,” One says. “For this reason, we have a very special signal flare that’s designed to override that spell since it’s tied to him.”

Huh.

“If he’s not allowed here, then..?”

“It’s part of his sentence. He’s not allowed in this universe. He’s not allowed to contact anyone from this universe. However, should we need his aid, he is to lend it. Regardless of where he is and what his situation is, he is to unfailingly answer. If he does not, I wipe him from existence. It’s a Deal,” One says, and then goes silent. “There’s not a lot he can do to make up for killing my brother. At the time, I thought it was kinder than he deserved.”

Dirk doesn’t blame them. He doesn’t think there’s a lot he can do to make up for that either. To serve as aid when a universe calls sounds easy in comparison.

“What’s the signal flare, then?” he asks.

One points to his face. “You’re wearing it.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh shit.

When he’d drifted and apparently collapsed earlier, his shades had been set aside, taken by Hal and set on the bench. He’d gotten this pair from Three, who kept it safe in his possession, impossible to access unless the god took it out, which — if his shades weren’t so odd and hard to get, he would have berated Three for giving him something so important as replacement glasses, even though it was tied to him all along anyway.

“We can look away, if you’d like,” One says. “You’d have to break that thing.”

“...are these his glasses?” Dirk asks.

One nods. “I asked for them as collateral and used them as the signal flare so he couldn’t try to steal it back,” they say. “...he killed my brother,” they emphasize.

And they took his glasses away for it. That’s…well, still kinder than he deserves. Dirk has no idea why they hadn’t just gutted him then and there if he was in the vicinity to hand his glasses over.

“...it’d be nice if you looked away,” Dirk says. One nods, facing away from him, and the others follow suit. The First Guardian completely teleports away in a flash of green light; Dirk doubts he’ll be back. He’s omniscient. He doesn’t need to be around unless he wants a conversation with anyone.

Dirk just stands there for a moment.

He takes off his glasses, carefully holding them in his hands. A wave of déjà vu hits him.

Whatever. Nothing to it. Dirk takes both halves of the glasses and snaps.

Nothing happens.

There’s no flash of light, no thrum of magic that alerts him, not even a change in the chilly temperature around them.

No footsteps, no crashes, no fanfare.

“...that didn’t do — ”

Someone’s behind him.

Dirk freezes. He doesn’t know how and he doesn’t know when, because the front door didn’t open. He didn’t hear anybody come up behind him. Everyone else is still facing away from him, so they couldn’t have heard either. Not even Hal, the robot who should have had better hearing than everyone else.

Whoever’s behind him isn’t making any noise, not even the sound of breathing. But he knows, without the shadow of a doubt, that someone is behind him. Still, nobody is reacting, they’re still just turned away, unnaturally frozen.

He looks at a stream of sunlight coming in from the windows. The dust motes there are suspended in mid-air, unable to drift down to the floor.

Something is wrong. Dirk turns.

A hand wraps around his throat.