Chapter Text
It’d been a few years since the Lamb usurped their God. They’d fought fiercely and, regrettably, Narinder had found himself kneeled before them, gasping for air and at their absolute mercy.
Even in what he’d presumed to be his final moments, the cat refused to cower before the sheep. He’d held his head as high as he could, as prideful as any God of his infamy should be. He stared at the Lamb despite the evident tremble of his muscle, ignoring the genuine fear that coursed through his veins- the chill running down his spine as he’d watched the sheep inch closer.
Narinder understood what his sibling had felt at the Lamb’s approach. Such an unassuming creature, and yet a natural Shepard. A divine, perfect vessel, one The One Who Waits had been aware he’d have to pay for dearly.
He’d been prepared for death. His mind betting with itself as to how the infant God would dispose of the one they’d once worshipped. Perhaps they’d even leave the former God in his prison still, torment him through the crippling loneliness of it, a fate even the siblings who’d left him behind deemed too cruel.
So Narinder egged the small sheep on. Dared them to kill like a beast or turn tail like a coward.
Lamb, however, appeared to have other plans.
They’d pressed their palm over the top of the Bishop’s head, their fingers massaging the cat’s skull in a pattern far too familiar. Narinder’s eyes widened at the realisation of what was about to happen, trembling arm reaching out in a pathetic attempt as to grab the white beast.
Before he’d the chance, however, the earth opened beneath him, swallowing the former God as though a common creature of the lands.
Honestly, Narinder ought to have found the whole ordeal rather insulting. Within both an eternity and a second, the former Bishop found himself falling to his knees once more, wincing as the harsh stone beneath him scratched mercilessly at his skin.
‘Welcome to Paradise, Narinder!’, the sheep beamed that day as they’d clasped their hands, putting even the sun overhead to shame with the brightness of the action, ‘I hope you’ll enjoy your life here, from now on.’, they added easily, as though the absurdity of the situation was yet to truly dawn on them.
His own reluctant ‘indoctrination’ into the so-called Paradise had still been fresh on the cat’s mind, always buzzing uncomfortably somewhere at the back of his skull. Especially when he’d catch a glimpse of the ever-cheerful cult leader throughout the day, tending to followers and frolicking to their heart’s content.
Narinder hadn’t adjusted easily nor willingly, but the Lamb’s efforts as to ensure a smooth transition from Godhood to kind-of mortality hadn’t gone unnoticed. The black cat had every intention of lying inside his appointed hut until his pathetic, small body decided to wither and rot. He’d longed to see the expression of his former vessel twist and contort into a mixture of disgust and annoyance.
Unfortunately, their persistence in visiting the former God every day had foiled the simple, petty plan. Lamb would make his way into the cat’s home with their ever-prominent smile, looking the cat over as though some amateur nurse. Naturally, Narinder would swat at their intrusive limbs, shooing the smaller being away from himself as best he could.
Of course, the Lamb seldom listen.
They’d always leave the hut happier than when they’d entered, even falling into the habit of feeding the former God the first few spoonfuls of any food they’d brought.
Narinder insisted he’d been plenty capable as to feed himself, despite being acutely aware of the persistent tremble of his hands whenever he’d raise the spoon up to his lips. Everything had been too much when he’d first appeared back to this world, so full of life and unlike how he’d remembered. The buzzing of bees had been enough noise to prevent any semblance of the cat getting restful sleep, just as the light of the sun had been enough for Narinder to never wish to leave his hut in fear of losing his sight.
Lamb would stay with him, though. They’d had eternity to get used to this new existence. Lamb had never killed the former Bishop, as such Narinder had never been stripped of his immortality.
A day at a time, Narinder began to exist. His limbs ceased to ache. His mind became clear. He’d leave his tent in the night as to enjoy the crisp, cold air and the gentle hue of the moon. Narinder grew aware of his own breath. Grew aware of his own hunger and tiredness, things that never bothered a God in the past.
But from day one, Lamb supported Narinder through all those changes. Despite being purposefully difficult, the sheep would still smile gently as they’d guided the black cat with the gentle grasp of their hands.
Narinder hated them, at first. His former vessel took everything the cat had left- even the things he’d thought lost a thousand years ago.
Yet with time that hate simply… fizzled out.
Lamb found Aym’s and Baal’s souls, giving them a chance to live and enjoy the vastness of the world. They’d brought all that remained of the Bishops back to life, too, despite the fact Narinder knew they’d truly hated the cat’s siblings for all they’d done to them.
It’d become evidently clear, despite Narinder’s own attempts at reasoning against the fact, that the young God had been doing all those things for him.
Perhaps it’d been residue devotion. An impulse as to do thing’s they’d thought Narinder wanted or expected of them. A form of guilty conscience or even a strange ‘power trip’ for the small being.
Although unsure of the sheep’s motivation at first, the most obvious of answers made itself rather apparent.
In this current moment, Lamb stood at the door of Narinder’s hut, holding a bouquet made of flowers the feline hadn’t seen in centuries. The sheep stood there with a hopeful, almost bashful, smile, one completely unbefitting of a God such as themselves. When they’d spoke, however, Narinder had instead began to wonder if he’d collapsed somewhere. If one of the sheep’s idiotic followers perhaps managed to hit him across the back of the head with a construction plank, bringing about this estranged dream:
“Will you marry me, Narinder?”, Lambert asked earnestly, looking up at the former God with far-too-familiar adoration.
Narinder blinked at first, looking down between the flowers and sheep as though one was a completely sepperate matter to the other. After only a short moment of contemplation, the black feline’s mind was set.
Closing the door unapologetically, Narinder decided it had been time for bed.
He’d further ignored the incessant knocking at the door of his home. It would be a problem for future Narinder, instead.