A Lullaby For Gods Chapter 132

CHAPTER TEN: I’M JUST THE MAN ON THE BALCONY, SINGING, “NOBODY WILL EVER REMEMBER ME.”

LAND OF SNOW AND STARS

“Nobodyhas seen where the hell Dirk Strider went?” Dualscar threw his hands up, volume raising in frustration. It was morning now – or morning-ish, by the clock’s standards, so he didn’t have to worry about keeping his voice down, but several of the children at the dinner table shot him a glare through the open doorway, as he knelt by the fireplace where he was raking aside the coals. The Handmaid had made him do it so he had something to distract himself from opening the pneumatic tubes over and over, waiting for correspondence to arrive.

“Signless says there’s no sign of him in any of the dream bubbles. Redglare says nobody’s seen him in Jotunheim. Summoner hasn’t caught wind of him in Alfheim. Disciple tried to see if he was in Vanaheim, but, no dice.” Behind him, sifting through several pages worth of letters, Nightwalker huffed. “Anyone who’s anywhere’s saying they haven’t seen him.”

“Are they sure?”

Nightwalker shot him an unamused look. Dualscar sat back to meet the look. Both of them stared at each other, neither willing to back off.

Eventually, Nightwalker sighed and turned towards the kitchen doorway. “Megido-san, he’s being unruly again.”

“Make him take the trash out back,” the Handmaid called out without missing a beat.

Dualscar flipped them both off.

“We just sent word out to have people look for him. They’re not going to find Strider in a few hours.” Nightwalker folded the letters up, heading for the kitchen. He lightly kicked Dualscar’s foot as he went, jumping away when the troll instantly tried to take a chunk out of his leg in retaliation. If the guy wasn’t one of the Heir of Doom’s friends, Dualscar would have ripped his throat out by now. “Give it a moment.”

“Yeah, well, give me some space before I rip your leg off.” Dualscar set down the iron poker he had and stood up, brushing soot off his pants. “I don’t understand how you two are so calm about this. Strider’s supposed to be accounted for.”

“Yelling and tearing each other’s heads off isn’t going to do much for us, is it?” Nightwalker asked as he disappeared into the kitchen. “We’ll keep an eye on it. The kids are awake, we’ll brainstorm what we can do with everyone’s talents on board.”

Dualscar huffed, following the man into the room, making sure to duck under the doorway so his horns didn’t scrape on the frame. This shitty little cabin was made for humans and it sucked.

The Handmaid, where she was washing the used frying pans on the sink, nodded towards Nightwalker in acknowledgement but didn’t turn towards him, instead glancing over her shoulder towards the kids at the dinner table. “Can you find someone missing, Vantas?” she asked.

“I’m…not quite sure.” Vantas said from his place on the table. “And I’m not sure we should be relying on a Blood player to find a missing person.”

Dualscar clicked his tongue, leaning back against the sink and crossing his arms. “We need a Seer of Space.”

The Seer of Void would have been useful right now, but who knew where the Heir’s team had fucked off to.

“Someone’s missin’?” Meenah asked, looking up.

“One person. Dirk Strider,” the Handmaid said. “He was supposed to be on Earth with everyone else, but we can’t find any traces of him.”

“Wasn’t one of his fronds some voidy chick?” she asked. “Could be her doin’.”

“Roxy Lalonde is accounted for, that’s the problem,” the Handmaid said.

“What the shell’s going on, then?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Didn’t you spend a lot of time with the Heir of Doom?” Sollux set the empty bowl he had been sipping soup from. He turned towards the sink, where the Handmaid was drying her hands. “Did they ever mention something like that happening?”

The Handmaid frowned down at the towel she was drying her hands on. After a moment, she turned, leaning back on the sink and crossing her arms.

“Well, for one, the person we got our information from is the Signless. He still has blindspots in his visions,” she said, motioning towards Kankri. “His abilities function the same way as Kankri’s – though I would say that Kankri’s actually surpasses him since he has actual experience with the game and has been training.”

“How the fuck did you guys talk to the Signless?” Sollux asked, eyebrows raising. The rest of the table (save Kankri, who was suddenly very interested in his food) had stopped eating to glance between the Handmaid, Dualscar and Nightwalker.

Dualscar jerked a thumb towards Nightwalker. “He’s got a line to him. He’s got a line to all your ancestors, save myself and the Handmaid here.” Then he paused. “Well, I guess since we’re talking, he kind of does. Never mind.”

“Idiot,” the Handmaid muttered. Nightwalker snickered. Dualscar glared at her.

“You got a line to mine?” Meenah asked, sitting up.

“Only for the ancestors of your post-scratch dancestors, I’m afraid,” Nightwalker said. “They’re the only ones who managed to fall into this universe.”

Meenah’s shoulders dropped. “Boring.”

“So, what, our dead ancestors are just running around – wait a fucking minute. Are they dead?” Sollux asked.

“To my knowledge.” Dualscar turned to Nightwalker.

“Save for you, the Handmaid and the Empress, yes,” he said. “So far. I have yet to know if the Heir plans to revive anyone else.”

“They’re being posted as lookouts throughout paradox space. That’s what I’ve been told anyway,” the Handmaid said. “Which is why we’re asking them if they’ve seen Strider, because the Signless doesn’t see him anywhere.” She closed her eyes and reached up to massage her temples.

“It’s possible the Signless has missed something, but if he didn’t, then somehow, Strider’s found himself outside of paradox space,” Nightwalker said. “Which isn’t only incredibly unlikely unless he dropped into a rift to another universe, but incredibly dangerous.”

“Yeah, yeah, talk about all this boring space mumbo jumbo later.” Meenah stood up from her seat, taking her bowl with her, heading for the pot of soup on the stove. “We got enough of it on the ship every day. Besides, he’s probably just hiding or somefin’.”

“Barring the fact that the Heir of Blood is after them, why would he hide but not take anyone else with him?” Dualscar asked.

“Fine, someone’s hidin’ him, then,” Meenah said. She refilled her empty bowl before returning to her seat, hungrily munching down on the meat on her plate and sipping at her soup.

Dualscar’s brows dipped, slowly. He looked up, sharing a look with the Handmaid, and then Nightwalker.

That was a point. If a kid who had friends would hide and go missing but not take his friends with him, then maybe he wasn’t the one hiding. Maybe he didn’t have a choice because someone was hiding him.

But what for and where?

#

KISARAGI ISLAND

When he was on his earth, trying to survive through the day to day of isolation in a waterlogged world, the sun was Dirk’s most abhorred foe. It hung in the sky during daytime, infuriatingly bright with no consideration for anyone’s sensitive eyes, and it scorched the metal surfaces of his tower-home, often to the detriment of his hands, feet, gloves and shoes. Plenty a summer season was spent lying face down in the most ventilated room Dirk had in the house, fans on full blast while Dirk tried not to die of overheating. The one upside of the whole thing was that solar power was aplenty during cloudless days, but most of the time, it felt like the sun had a personal vendetta against him and all of earth’s apocalypse survivors.

On this earth, the sun was equally as infuriating, ordering him around the kitchen and correcting how he washed, stirred, skinned, friend and chopped things. Most of the morning was a feedback loop of “You’re not doing it right” and “I am doing it right.”, but by the end of the hour, both of them were sitting across each other at the kitchen island, two fresh bowls of beef ramen in front of them.

And it wasn’t…half bad. The noodles weren’t half-undercooked and half-overcooked like he was used to in a place where safe-to-consume running water along with reliable electricity was hard to find. The meat was actual meat instead of synthetic, expired abominations that were partially made of ground human flesh in a misguided effort of the Condesce to recreate grubloaf for humans. There were actual vegetables in the bowl. Everything was fresh and clean.

If he inhaled his bowl in less than five minutes, nobody could say shit. And the sun thankfully kept his mouth shut, instead focusing on his own food while Dirk got up to get seconds.

The rest of the morning was much more pleasant on a full stomach. While the sun god contacted his siblings on whatever information they’d managed to gather, Dirk snooped around the living room, observing the framed photos on the walls and shelves and flipping through photo albums.

The god didn’t appear much in the photos. In fact, most of the photos were of who Dirk assumed were his kids or niblings, taken from events of them in school, their various birthday parties and them just hanging about the house. There were about twelve of them, which explained the large number of bedrooms upstairs, and they were a mismatch of humans and trolls.

That seemed to be a trend on this island, the amalgamation of troll and human society. Perhaps everything integrated after they won the game. Theoretically, had he and his friends not crashed into another universe, their own reward universe would have ended up like this.

The sun emerged from his study just as Dirk was flipping through what looked like the most recent photo album the god owned. The kids looked the oldest here, and the god even showed up in some of the pictures, though he’d clearly been forced to by a dark-haired, red-eyed girl who resembled him somewhat. Must be his daughter.

“My brother’s coming to check on you,” he said.

“I thought crossing week made travel impossible,” Dirk said.

“He’s a Space player,” the god said, shrugging. “He can teleport.”

Ah. Well, that was convenient. He might be able to get home faster than anticipated, they just needed to be able to pinpoint where the fuck he needed to go.

True enough, a minute later, the doorbell rang. The sun motioned for Dirk to wait in the living room as he went to get it.

Of course, he didn’t wait. Instead he went to the doorway to listen as their visitor spoke.

“ – talked to One, they said they’re not sure so I came to check,” the new voice said, timbre low and tone flat. “Of course, we could get the guardian and see if his omniscience kicks in, but – ”

The sun sighed. “That’s too risky.”

“He’d probably get ripped to shreds. It’s a miracle he’s been allowed to stay this long,” the new voice said. “Or, M’s being very considerate of your carpet.”

“That’s unlikely, but maybe all the meditation exercises One’s been pestering him to do are getting to him.” The sun chuckled lowly, ending it with a sigh. “Well, come in. I hope I didn’t disturb any of your plans.”

“Nah, the kids are visiting family.”

The sun opened the door the rest of the way and their visitor stepped in. Dirk stiffened.

The person who stepped in was taller, older, but there was no mistaking the dark curls, the nose, the planes and angles of their face. That was Angeles.

But then the visitor turned towards the doorway – his eyes were striking, still, but they weren’t grey with a ring of atomic blue on the left iris. They were a full, rich gold dimmed by the tired look on the person’s face.

Said person raised a hand in greeting. “Hello.”

Dirk said nothing, looking between the stranger and the sun god. Now that they were standing next to each other, the resemblance was a lot more prominent. The sun shared some of Angeles’ face, the red eyes and the longer hair just threw him off.

This was the future. Descendants? Maybe alternate universe ancestors? Dancestors?

Gold Eyes shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable being stared at. For such a tall guy with an intimidating resting bitch face, any illusion of power immediately shattered with the clear anxiety.

“He’s here to confirm a few things,” the sun god said as he shut the front door. “Let’s move back to the living room – ”

There was a thump upstairs. All three of them looked up. Dirk had already summoned his katana into his hand.

“Ah, yeah, One came over too,” Gold Eyes said.

The sun god winced. “They didn’t tell me they were coming over.”

“They told me they might,” Gold Eyes said. “You know how busy they get around crossing week, but I guess they managed it.”

There were thumps upstairs, the sound of a window sliding open, and then footsteps running down the corridor. Strangely, whoever it was didn’t continue down the stairs, stopping somewhere above them.

“Isn’t your visitor coming down?” Dirk asked, cautiously holding his sword to his side.

Something in Gold Eyes’ pocket buzzed. He took out his phone, checking the notification, then shrugged. “Said this is probably safer for you.”

“They’ve got a whole death thing going on. God of the dead, after all,” the sun god said, shrugging as well. They really were siblings. Twins? He motioned his head towards the living room. “Come on.”

Dirk nodded, but kept his sword out.

Most of Gold Eyes’ questions pertained to the rift Dirk had fallen through – what it looked like, what triggered it, whether he remembered anything between getting pulled through and landing on the outskirts of Kisaragi. Dirk attempted to describe the damn thing as best as he could, considering he was more busy hanging onto dear life than he was studying the rift; he repeated his description of the ghosts that lured people in and then turned into rifts when they didn’t fall for the trap; and said that no, he didn’t remember anything between getting pulled in and then waking up, barely conscious, on the beach.

Gold Eyes nodded as he answered, much quieter than his red-eyed brother had been while Dirk was answering.

“From what I’m understanding, your problem isn’t so much as Space-based as much as it truly is Doom-based. Chances are, this is from your dead man’s deal,” Gold Eyes said.

“How so?” Dirk asked.

“Well, for one, those ghosts are heralds. They’re like – ” Gold Eyes flattened his palm, face down to the floor, and moved it up to illustrate a ladder hierarchy. “They’re agents of death, and they’re on like, rungs, depending on how severe the universe’s state is. Do you ever wonder what happens in doomed timelines?”

“I…can’t say I have.” He’d heard some of it from Rose and Davesprite, though, how an entire timeline could just wink out of existence once it was defunct.

“They’re the guys that clean those up. They’re not evil, per se, they’re just there to get rid of things that aren’t needed anymore. Kind of like a body’s immune system, except their targets are whole timelines,” Gold Eyes said. “Heralds sweep through in waves. There’s disasters, bits of reality slowly coming apart, angels, ghosts…” He waved a hand. “The universe sends in destruction of varying degrees until everything is wiped clean. Sometimes it doesn’t need everything in its arsenal and sometimes it just goes full throttle.”

That made sense. The universe he’d come from was dying, staved off only by Angeles consuming its doom.

“One would be better in explaining these things, but they’re being dramatic.” Gold Eyes glanced up to the ceiling. Beside him, the sun god got up and headed to the kitchen. “Ghosts are like Peyer’s Patches for getting rid of people who’re too stubborn to die. They become these small pockets of reality that still exist inside that universe and slowly wear down and consume the person they’ve taken in. Cosmic vore.”

“Jesus Christ, Seven,” the sun god called from the kitchen.

Seven snickered, muffling the sound behind his hand. “I’m sorry. One would have made the joke.” His phone buzzed. Judging from the smile he had after checking it, yes, One would have made that joke.

“Your brother is insufferable, but this place seems more like some 80’s toontown instead of hell.” Dirk motioned to the window.

“Well, you have to understand that these ghosts are under Doom’s domain,” Seven said. “Aspects as pillars of the universe and all that, so instead of you getting slowly worn away by an agent of one, your dead man’s deal activated to protect you instead, and here you are, an entire universe away.”

He paused, leaning back in his seat and sighing.

“Though, I’m not sure if it’s a one-way ticket or not,” he said.

The sun god returned, with a tray of cookies and a jug of juice. It was a hot day outside.

“Can’t go a minute without mother-henning,” Seven muttered, smiling as he snatched one of the cookies from the tray before the sun could put it down. “Crossing week is lonely, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. The house is always quieter than usual,” the sun muttered.

“You could visit the living world.”

The sun thwapped him on the head. “We have a guest, please focus instead talking about my problems.”

“Fine, fine. You keep getting away with this because you’re older,” Seven said, before turning back to Dirk. “Anyway, I know it’s quite invasive, but could you tell us what your dead man’s deal was? Not the side you were promised, but the side you promised to do.”

“I…the Anathema Point was dying and they were friends with this simulacrum of mine. I promised to take care of him in the inevitable fallout after their death.”

“A simulacrum?” the sun god raised an eyebrow.

“I made an AI based on a brainscan of mine when I was thirteen,” Dirk said. “That thing’s gone and found a life for himself since then. He’s got a chassis now.”

“Interesting,” Seven said, sharing a look with his brother. “Have you done your part of the deal, then?”

“The Anathema Point was alive when I was pulled here, so no.”

“Well, maybe we do have a better chance at sending you home. We just need you to receive your end of the deal. The universe will forcibly find a way to make you complete yours and since your AI is in your universe, you should find your way back to him. Or you’ll be fated to go back, similar to how Doom sets things out to its players sometimes,” Seven said.

That – that seemed…way easier said than done. When he’d made the deal with Angeles, it’d been a momentary lapse in judgement, some emotional grab at a chance presented, but now that his way home hinged on the deal successfully giving him what he wanted, it sounded more and more outlandish.

“I…see,” Dirk said.

“You can tell us so we can help, but you don’t have to,” the sun god interrupted. “We can find another way.”

“I’d prefer that, I think.”

“Okay,” the sun said.

Seven nodded, saying nothing. After a moment, he said, “We could ask our guardian to check if there are any rifts we can take advantage of. If you dropped in here from someplace else, there has to be at least a tiny tear in our universe.”

The sun winced as he poured himself some juice, taking a sip as he leaned back in his seat. “You know the guy’s going to tear him to pieces for it.”

“We can explain it was an accident,” Seven said. “We can explain someone else literally spelled for the rerouting to happen.”

“Isn’t your universe also in danger if there’s a tear in it?” Dirk asked.

The sun nodded. “Yes.”

Shit.

Suddenly uncomfortable and a little guilty, Dirk sat back in his seat and hoped the loveseat would eat him. Sadly, it did no such thing.

“We’ll fix it,” the sun said. “Somehow.”

“And anyway, it wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.” Seven waved a hand. “Universal walls have been a little on the fritz lately.”

“Lord English?”

Seven raised an eyebrow, sharing another look with his brother again. “Yes,” he said, eventually. “But that besides, our current options on getting you home are your deal somehow fulfilling one of its ends and sending you home so you can fulfill yours, or find a tear, make it worse and then shove you out of this universe.”

“That still has its dangers. We have to know where the tear opens to if we’re going to send you out, because otherwise, we’d just be shoving you outside universal walls and far beyond the furthest ring,” the sun said. “So if we go with the second option, we need to locate your universe.”

“You’re a Space player, aren’t you?” Dirk turned to Seven.

The boy didn’t answer right away.

“I’m a Prince,” he said, after a while.

God damn it.

“So, risk pissing off your guardian, spend some time trying to pinpoint where the fuck I came from and hope to god I land there instead of the middle of bumfuck nowhere,” Dirk said, “Or somehow get what I asked for from the dead man’s deal.”

“That’s what we have for now, but we can try to brainstorm,” the sun offered in an attempt for comfort. It didn’t do much to settle Dirk’s nerves.

“Great,” he said.

“If we go with trying to complete the dead man’s deal, then you might have more control over the situation than usual,” the sun god said. “You don’t have to tell us. That’s your business. But it might help if you tell us what option you’ve decided to go with, so I can provide whatever you need in your – ” He waved a hand. “Cosmic deal-quest.”

“I…appreciate that,” Dirk said, carefully.

Sneaking out the universe the way he came was sounding more and more plausible. But then again, they said there might be a third way. On the other hand...

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Well, you have all the time in the world, technically,” Seven said. “Time’s weird in Kisaragi.”

Hopefully time was being weird back in the other universe too.

Dirk ran a hand through his hair. Well, he’d lived through a post-apocalyptic society. He could stay long enough in a weird 80’s toontown afterlife to find a way back to everyone else.

God, why did this always happen? Why was he always far from his friends?