Aspen stared at the boy who seemed a few years younger than her curiously, her heterochromatic black and blue eyes wide with a desire to understand. Subtly, she leaned over to her Patron's ear before murmuring, "Lord Fenrir, what's going on?"
Her Patron's ear simply twitched in acknowledgement of her question before lowering himself into the snow, and tilting his head with a low growl; interpreting his actions as a request to get down, she hurriedly slide off, landing into the snow with her cloak wrapped tight around her shoulders, shivering slightly.
Sensing that his Priestess was uncomfortable, Fenrir's eyes glowed a blue similar to the storm, and all at once, a circle of calm surrounded the mystical meeting, and Anubis stopped shivering so much. Although there was still snow on the ground, the flakes that had swirled around them held still, before slowly gliding down to rest on top of the snow.
Anubis thought that he'd never seen such a beautiful thing in his life.
Of course, the sun scorched sands that gleamed gold and red were regal and very beautiful, but he rarely had a chance nor a desire to venture outside of his domain aside from visiting a few famous graves.
The last time he'd seen proper snow, was when he'd visited Evanhov on a rare day of adventure; the snow that had gently touched his face was reflected in the beautiful sight above, and while there was no soaring architecture that had lasted for millennia to greet him, an ancient sky of bluish gray hung over him.
'I wish Ain was here... she loves traveling...'
The Jackal quietly stared up at the Serpent, and although he was apathetic as usual, there was an uncanny sense of alertness coming from him. Anubis smiled—so the little reptile had some sense after all. Even though he was at a disadvantage, Jörmungandr's readiness and instincts felt like flattery to the typically overlooked god.
'It's nice, not being underestimated... but also troublesome. How in the Duat am I suppose to get out of this mess...'
"So," he smiled a winning smile, his canine's sharper than they were before, "I assume you brought me here for more than a little show of power, right? Cause if so..."
A quiet yet desolate aura descended down on the gathered people, and all at once, Fenrir's hair stood up and he growled, while Jörmungandr lowered his stance, his eyes beginning to glow a little.
If Jörmungandr's aura was one of unbridled insanity and solitude, and Fenrir's one of ice that ripped apart life with inconsolable fury, then Anubis' was like the grave—the silence and the sorrow, the desolation left behind as an essential cog to a life fell into the abyss below.
How grave it was; how sorrowful; how lonely.
Tears streamed down Aspen's face as she shivered and she sobbed, overwhelmed and shaking from the intensity of that aura's.
What did it mean to be a god?
To be shackled to eternity, an endless cycle and passage of time that would obstinately become useless and meaningless in the end.
To fear the memory of humans, terrified that their stories would be lost amongst time's solemn passage, and yet, so very, very desperate for the end.
What was 'the end'?
To a god, what does 'the end' mean?
Unfortunately, Aspen would never know, could never know; she was just a human at the end of the day, no matter how extraordinary she was. However, she still wondered why, in all of Anubis' superiority, he didn't try to kill the monsters of the end.
Perhaps it was because they were monsters who would bring an end to everything that he could not help but feel relieved subconsciously... that maybe, maybe, he would be able to finally break from the passage of time... to no longer continue his lonely sojourn through it's sands...
Maybe, at his end, he could be with—
"Wolf, if that Priestess of yours doesn't get out of my mind, I'm going to kill her, no matter how valuable you've deigned her to be."
Only then did Aspen notice that red blood had dribbled from her nose and onto the snowy white landscape; only then did she realize that she was shuddering, her body and mind buckling from invading the mind of a being far superior to herself.
A hair-raising growl resounded intensely, and a feeling a warm arms that entirely contrasted the cold wrapped her. Her hearing and sight waxed and waned, her breath partly shallow as she felt vibrations against her cheek.
Ah, was her Lord yelling right now?
She hoped he wasn't cussing... he looked so terribly odd when he did, that in order to protect his image, she would often request him not to—besides, it was bad manners on his part.
Then, sound blossomed for a moment, and she heard the low yet terribly detached voice of her Lord's brother, Lord Jörmungandr.
"...Information. Motive. And... a favor."
"While that's fascinating, I doubt I have any reason to do such a foolhardy thing when one of your allies just tried to get into my mind—"
"F*CK OFF, AND LEAVE ASPEN ALONE, YOU F*CKING GEEZER—!"
Ah.
So he was cussing.
Aspen wondered, as sound faded away again, why her Lord was being so rude to someone who was so similar to himself and his brother. She couldn't help but think that gods were awfully combative when diplomacy could solve so many things...
It seems that while gods gained power, humans instead gained wisdom, as they sought for peace whilst understanding the nature of destruction.
If only gods learned it too...