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There was a silence held between them as Seawatt settled himself behind Evbo. The silence had been following them for a while now, ever since…
How long had it been? Seawatt had only just been revived for the first time- technically second. By technicality, both Evbo and Seawatt would be in their eighties or nineties. Neither looked a day over thirty. Such was the way Evbo’s powers worked. He never aged, and as they had learned, when old age claimed them, they would be naturally brought back as young adults. It was quite the positive; Seawatt would’ve been very unhappy if he had to live out the rest of his potentially endless life with the downsides that came with age.
This had been a discussion that they had had hundreds of times over the years. Evbo, scared to lose them but scared to hurt them, reassuring himself again and again and again that Seawatt and EMF did want to be brought back. That they were choosing to return after their deaths.
And yet, Seawatt could never quite bring himself to be annoyed. He knew there was a reason why Evbo was so worried, and it was because of his family, there was one member who was clear that he did not want to be brought back to life.
Evbo respected Boey’s decision, but his partners could see how badly it affected him. They could see it in the subtle shake of his hands whenever Boey mentioned something even slightly dangerous. They could hear it in Evbo’s continued questions about revival and respawning. They could feel it in the way Evbo clutched onto them, sobbing his heart out as time passed and Boey’s health naturally deteriorated.
They had known the time was coming, but they could never fully prepare themselves.
Evbo didn’t go back on his promise, though. He never even considered it. As far as Seawatt knew, he never even looked into fixing Boey’s code, likely to prevent himself from giving into the temptation.
The world felt a little less bright. A little quieter. For the first time in the almost sixty years they had been together, it was just the three of them. The absence prickled like thorns in Seawatt’s chest, and he couldn’t even imagine how much pain Evbo was in.
And admittedly… Seawatt was worried for his partner. He had gotten significantly better at holding his hybrid god form over time, but the ex-Fighter was fairly certain he hadn’t seen Evbo leave it at all since Boey’s death. The god had explained, softly, that it was harder to appear fully human as of late. It was like he had lost a bit of the grip he always had on his humanity. Like his hold had slipped, just a bit.
It meant a lot of things. It meant that Seawatt and EMF had to get much more used to Evbo’s wings, flung over them as they slept as if keeping a careful watch on their movements even in the dead of night. It meant Evbo had to actually learn how to keep his talons and feathers from tearing up the house.
It meant a lot of things, but right now, the most important part was how it meant that he needed help taking care of himself a lot more often. Evbo could easily take care of the feathers on the front half of his body- his face and the baby feathers that lead into his talons, but his wings needed a second hand at least.
It had been especially bad lately. The god was molting, a process he had never gone through before now. He left feathers everywhere he went, dull and off-colored. The feathers that came in to replace them were bent and crooked. The netherite adorning his flight feathers became brittle, breaking off at the slightest of touches.
As Seawatt took in the expanse of his partner’s wings now, though, he found himself almost relieved at what he saw. There were some decently thick pins bundled all over the wings, off-white and ready to be released. Evbo let out a quiet hum as Seawatt ran his fingers through the feathers, carefully noting each spot that needed attention. As he made his observations, he couldn’t help but let his eyes drift towards Evbo himself.
His shoulders were hunched forward, curled slightly in on himself. The fire that emblazoned his wings was minimal at best, barely even curling around Seawatt’s hands as he finger-brushed them.
He wanted to ask if Evbo was okay, but he knew that the answer would be a resounding no . Of course he wasn’t okay. It would be a long time before any of them could be okay.
It had been so long since Seawatt’s family was lost to the Old Man’s massacre, he had almost forgotten what fresh grief felt like. And this… it wasn’t anything like what he felt back then. It had been a dark, writhing, nasty thing back in his youth. A poisonous snake wrapping around his heart and dictating every thought, every action.
Now… there wasn’t anyone to be angry at. There wasn’t anyone to blame. Time was a cruel mistress, and it didn’t stop for anybody.
Except Evbo…
“Your feathers have gotten greasy,” Seawatt murmured thoughtfully. He drew his hand back and rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together. Oil glistened on his fingertips. It made sense, really. The fire wasn’t burning hot enough to keep the feathers clean, so it made sense they were showing such signs of filth.
Evbo heaved a great sigh. “...yeah.”
There was a lot of work that needed to be done. Seawatt hummed as he considered where to start.
Wordlessly, he started rearranging Evbo’s feathers back into their proper places. Wing grease immediately covered his hands. With how uncomfortable it felt against his skin, he could only imagine how miserable the wings were making Evbo right now. Clearly, cleaning them would have to be the first priority.
“I’m going to wash them first, okay, Ev?” Seawatt murmured. He kept one hand carefully resting against the feathers, knowing full well the anxiety that followed every moment of lost contact. Evbo gave a sharp, stiff nod. Seawatt hesitantly reached for the rag he had set aside to soak. Soapy water drained from the cloth as he lifted it and wrung it out. The second the fabric made contact with a patch of dirty feathers, the fire around them wavered and sputtered. It would’ve put off most people, but Seawatt had been cleaning Evbo’s wings for decades now. He didn’t even pause. The fire wouldn’t hurt him; it never had.
Evbo remained unnaturally quiet, stewing in his own thoughts. It only made Seawatt’s grief feel worse. Misery hung off every particle of dust, lining the window sills and door frames. The process had been far from an easy one. Seawatt could barely keep a proper track of time with the way the days blurred together.
Two or three weeks now, if he had to guess. Since they lost their son.
Of course Evbo was in such a dark state. He had taken that boy in as a scared, sick, and injured child, terrified of touch but desperate for it in the same breath. And in those last few minutes, it was impossible for Seawatt to not see that same boy staring back at him. But there had been a kind of peace on his face. An acceptance. Almost reverence. And Evbo had to wrestle with the knowledge that he probably could’ve found a way to save his life, and that he was simply not allowed to even try. The god wanted nothing more than to protect his family, and the only way he was allowed to do that was by letting one go.
Seawatt felt something catch in his throat. He didn’t cry; he had done far too much of that lately. But his body recognized the emotion and reacted accordingly, eyes stinging and threatening another wave of tears.
The wash rag caught on something in Evbo’s wings and tore out a feather. The god winced as a bead of blood immediately followed. Seawatt inhaled sharply and dropped the cloth instinctively. Before Seawatt could even apologize, Evbo was looking at him with concern in his emerald green eyes.
“H-hey, you never rip out a feather. Everything okay?”
Seawatt inhaled slowly and shook his head, but he didn’t elaborate. Evbo’s eyes softened.
“It’s hard,” the god said in a soft voice. “If… you’re not up for this right now, I get it.”
“I’m not neglecting you because of my grief,” Seawatt said sharply. “I’ve already made enough bad decisions in my life because of my inability to handle it; I don’t plan on making any more.”
“…it’s not neglecting, Sea. If you can’t-“
“I’m not-“ Seawatt cut off sharply. “Going to neglect you.”
Evbo didn’t immediately respond. He folded his hands together and breathed slowly. He blinked away the tears scattered across his eyelashes and gave Seawatt a small smile.
“Don’t neglect yourself either, love,” he said in an achingly soft voice. The nickname sent pricks of pain straight into Seawatt’s heart, the tenderness of which it was spoken, paired with the gentle brush of Evbo’s hand against Seawatt’s own.
“Let me take care of you,” Seawatt murmured. “I want… I want to do this, okay?”
Evbo nodded slowly and turned back around, exposing his wings once more. “Okay. Okay. Do you want to… talk about it, though?”
Seawatt sighed. He took up the rag again and gently started to wipe away more built up grease and dirt. Each swipe lifted weeks of neglect from the feathers. The water was going to need to be replaced soon if all of them were this bad. “What’s there to talk about?” He said after a long moment. “We all knew it was coming. He was… getting older. Sicker.”
“Seawatt…” Evbo said softly. His shoulders hunched forward again. Seawatt could hear the shakiness of his breathing. He focused all of his attention on scrubbing away a patch of dirt that had caked to Evbo’s secondary flight feathers. The netherite crumbled away at his touch, brittle and weak. “I… I miss him,” the god whispered. “I keep expecting to turn around and see him. Or hear him. It’s like… it hasn’t fully sunk in.” Evbo shifted slightly as he pulled something from his pocket. Seawatt paused from his meticulous cleaning as Evbo twisted the object in his hand, fingers running over faint lines worn into it from years of fidgeting.
He recognized the object immediately. A small shroomlight, no longer luminous as age dampened its shine. It had once been something of a nightlight for their son, back when he was still a child, but even as the years passed it had never left his side. The first gift he had ever received. The first time someone had given him something just because they cared about him.
Seawatt still remembered purchasing the thing, decades ago. He couldn’t have ever guessed just how much it would mean to Boey. It was his favorite fidget, even after receiving plentiful others as people slowly grew to understand his need for something to do with his hands. Even as the shroomlight’s glow faded and then disappeared entirely. He never let it go.
Seawatt wasn’t sure when Evbo had taken the object. He honestly had thought it lost with Boey. There was a sense of comfort that came with seeing the familiar little thing.
“I shouldn’t feel this way.” Evbo’s voice trembled. “He wanted this, Sea. He wanted this. To live a full life and have the peace of death afterwards. He never wavered, never once hesitated to say that this is what he wanted. And yet I… I still feel like I failed him somehow.”
“You didn’t- shit - Ev, you didn’t fail anyone. I… shit- “ Seawatt furiously scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist. Feather grease smeared across his face, making him shudder, but he pushed it away at the moment. He couldn’t cry again . He had one task and now he was putting it off to cry again.
“S-sorry,” the god murmured. “I’m making this worse again, aren’t I?”
“This is normal ,” Seawatt insisted. “You’re… you’re allowed to grieve. We all are… the important part is that none of us are forced to grieve alone… we all have each other to fall back on.”
“I…” Evbo gritted his teeth. “I don’t know… how to grieve with someone. I’ve only ever really lost people when I was alone…”
“This is new for me, too.” Seawatt petted his partner’s wings, both to reassure himself and Evbo. “You think I ever really learned how to properly grieve? No.” He dug his fingers into the feathers without warning, spurring Evbo to jump. Seawatt blinked away his tears before slowly picking through the dying feathers, carefully discarding the old ones into a nearby bin and resettling the healthy ones into their proper positions. “So… we can learn together. Like everything else we’ve done in our lives.” Seawatt leaned forward slightly and dropped his voice. “You and Em were my first everything. At least… the first I want to acknowledge. Anything I had with… him doesn’t count. I consider you my first loves, my first kisses, my first home. It only makes sense you’ll be the first people to help me learn how to grieve in a healthy manner.”
Evbo’s right wing was finally properly settled, so he started settling the left wing into proper shape. The bin was almost overflowing with discarded feathers, but his practiced hands plucked more dead and readjusted the healthy ones with ease. Evbo finally started to sink into it, eyes fluttering and breathing beginning to slow.
“Yeah,” Evbo murmured. “You’re right. We still have each other. And… and hopefully we will be together for much longer.”
“You’re not getting rid of me yet,” Seawatt said gently. “I’m here to stay for a while. It’s gonna take more than one natural death before I start getting tired.”
Evbo bobbed his head slowly. “Right… right. And you’ll… you’ll tell me when you want your time to come, right? You won’t let me… hurt you -“ Evbo clenched his fists.
“Yes, Ev. You’ll know way ahead of time. As soon as I make the decision, you’ll be the first to know, okay?” He leaned forward even further and touched his forehead against the top of Evbo’s head. The god was just as old as Seawatt and EMF, but he hadn’t aged a single day. He still had the exact same body that he had been locked in the minute he ascended.
It was a strange thing to the trio, time. Seawatt could see it in Em’s deteriorating joints, the speckles of gray fur splashed across his face, the dimming of the stars spread across his body. He could see it in himself, in the eye bags that stubbornly remained no matter what he did, in his hair losing its luster, in his knuckles that had long since grown crooked from arthritis.
And then he’d turn around and see Evbo, and there would be a crippling sense of discordant energy. His skin never wrinkled and his hair never dulled. The emerald green of his eyes was just as bright as the day Seawatt met him. His joints never grew stiff and his fluffy, feathery hair never turned gray.
If time was a river, then Evbo was a rock that had settled itself in the bed. Ripples wove around him, passing by without a second glance, and the rock remained steady. It was never pulled along by the current. And neither was his god.
Seawatt had been brought back to life by Evbo personally before. It was so long ago now that you couldn’t blame him for forgetting the sensation, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. This time, though, worse than the pain and regurgitation of leftover blood and fluid that had built in his lungs was the dysphoria . He had seen himself age over time, and to suddenly be thrust back into the body of a young adult… it was a strange thing to get used to again. He didn’t have to worry about breaking brittle bones or twisting aging joints; it was like the past decades had never happened.
But they had. They had happened. Because in the end, revival was not for everyone. Especially when revival had been used, once upon a time, to inflict untold levels of suffering. In the end, death was not a punishment. Not for Boey. It was a mercy, a peace.
Seawatt knew that better than almost anyone. His life had ended twice now, in very different ways. The first time, his death had been a terrifying, tragic experience. He had watched his lifeblood pour endlessly out of the myriad wounds torn into his abdomen from the parkour race. It was brutal and agonizing. Seawatt had never been so scared in his life as he realized what had happened. That he had been betrayed. That he had thrown everything aside for revenge, including the only person who had bothered to love him after the loss of his family. He had used Evbo as a tool, intending to toss him away the very moment he was no longer of use. And in doing so, he had broken the kind heart of the most forgiving soul he had ever had the opportunity to cradle in his hands.
Forgiveness was given, but far from deserved.
His second death had been… very different. There had been no blood, no fear, very little pain. Evbo had been there for that one as well, though the look in his eyes was very different. Instead of pain and fear and horror, Evbo’s face was creased with a subtle sadness, nose scrunched as if fighting back the urge to cry. In some ways, his expression was very similar to the one he had adopted when the Parkour Villain killed Seawatt. And yet, to the experienced eye, they couldn’t be farther from each other.
Evbo had sat by his bedside, hand carefully cupped in his own as he ran soft fingers over Seawatt’s knuckles. A soft reassurance, a promise. Seawatt could feel his death coming, closing in from a distance, but he didn’t fight it. He simply looked at his partners, Ev holding his hands and Em gently brushing tangles out of Seawatt’s hair with his claws, and whispered: “I’m ready to go around again.”
For you . It went unsaid. Always for you. It would forever remain unsaid.
Death was something that had stalked poor Boey for so long. Years after the events that had brought him to their doorsteps, he would wake himself from the dead of sleep with terrified screams. He would shiver and shake and whimper as he verbalized the torture he had experienced, what it felt like to die again and again and again and again -
And they had grown to learn that the death wasn’t the issue, not really. It was the revival . It was having that momentary peace ripped away from him, throwing him back into his own personal hell. It only made sense that he begged to finally give it in to the soft darkness that awaited him. He had lived, loved, laughed, experienced a life like no other.
And in the end, death was waiting for him. Not a threat, no, but a welcoming promise. One upheld by the highest authority in the world, the Parkour God himself.
Seawatt gazed down at his partner, and couldn’t help but think… he did not look like the mighty Parkour God right now.
He just looked like a grieving father.
“I’m going to start on your pins now, okay?” Seawatt whispered. He continued to stroke the wing in front of him when he spoke, knowing well the comfort that such soft touch always brought his god. Evbo leaned into it- of course he did. He always leaned into it.
“Okay,” Evbo murmured back.
With the feathers as clean as they could be and properly set into their places, all that was left was opening and settling the pin feathers. Long, thick capsules of keratin protected the delicate feather from damage while it was forming. Almost all of them looked ready to release, hopefully pushing out the old, crooked feathers and replacing them with healthy ones. The god’s wings were unnaturally bare- if these pins weren’t healthy feathers, there would definitely need to be more research done into getting them back in shape.
He started with the smaller feathers located at the tops of Evbo’s wings. They were lined with fluff and down, almost unnaturally soft for what they were. These pins were impossibly small and crumbled at the slightest touch. Dust spilled into the air as he rolled the casing between his forefinger and thumb, breaking it apart before attempting to pull the keratin off.
What was left was a small, purple feather, vibrant with its newness and glimmering faintly in the low light of the room. It was a very good sign.
“Your feathers are looking so much better,” Seawatt said. “That’s good. I was worried about them.”
“Aww, you were worried about me,” Evbo teased. His voice was still heavy, but the tremor had faded. Seawatt allowed himself a soft smile. The shroomlight had been tucked away once more, likely to protect it from the oil and dust.
“Don’t get used to it. I’m gonna have to be extra mean to you now just to make up for my kindness.”
Evbo… he laughed at that. He laughed! The small smile on Seawatt’s face suddenly grew into something fuller, more pleased. Evbo hadn’t laughed much at all since Boey’s death.
With his hands still coated in equal amounts of dust and grease, Seawatt ruffled his partner’s soft hair. Evbo let out a yelp of protest and shimmied away, still laughing. It was a dull thing, more huffy and breathy than his usual laugh, but it was still laughter, genuine and true. “Stop moving,” Seawatt chastised. “I haven’t even started on your bigger feathers yet.”
“You’re messing my hair up!” The god protested. He gave an exaggerated pout of disgust as he gingerly touched the newly greasy spot.
“Since when did you care about your hair?”
“Since I decided I needed to look good for my husbands.”
Seawatt’s chest fluttered. He rested a hand on Evbo’s bony shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t use that term very often,” he said in a low voice. “What’s the occasion? Was there an anniversary I missed?”
Evbo twisted around to face Seawatt. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, one hand reached up. Then, with an amused huff, he rested the palm of his hands against Seawatt’s cheek, thumbs gingerly tracing the lines of his cheekbones. “I should use it more often, I think. We’ve only been married for- what? Sixty years?”
“Fifty-seven years and five months,” Seawatt immediately corrected. He paused, then added: “If I was keeping track, that is.”
Evbo smiled crookedly. Seawatt could feel the way his god’s fingers caressed the contours of his face, gingerly running over his jaw and tracing it all the way to his ears. If he didn’t know any better, he would almost believe that Evbo was trying to commit his face to memory.
But he did know better. Evbo already knew his face, centimeter by centimeter. It wasn’t an attempt to familiarize himself, it was simply the god’s way of reassuring himself. Tracing familiar lines and dips, knowing exactly where every feature was, where every contour began and ended.
“You’ve always been an amazing husband, Sea. You know that?” Evbo whispered. He leaned forward until their foreheads pressed against each other. The air was filled with nothing but his breath, warm against Seawatt’s face. The god sighed shortly and closed his eyes. “And… you were the perfect father. I hope you know that. I don’t think you ever fully understood how much you meant to Boey. He loved you, almost as much as I do.”
Seawatt reached his own hands up to cradle his god’s face. His god’s, not just in title but in feeling as well. He could practically feel golden-shaded devotion pouring off of him in waves, blooming into the warm air and glimmering in his partner’s emerald eyes.
How could someone who had once denounced the Parkour God’s existence now overflow with worship?
Because, it was just as Em always said. They never worshipped the Parkour God. They had never cared about Him, had never even thought of Him as a force that mattered.
But what was worship but another form of undying love?
Evbo wasn’t just the Parkour God, he was Seawatt’s god. He didn’t worship Evbo because of the netherite adorning his feet- once boots, now talons. He worshiped Evbo because every time he saw those eyes, heard that chirpy voice, saw the glimmer of happiness and love in his every movement, he felt as though he himself was being worshipped.
Once a sinner, now one of the most faithful followers of his god. Not quite a saint, but for sure a devotee. He saw the way Evbo’s face would light up bright red when Seawatt or EMF prayed to him. He could feel his partner’s presence in every word he spoke. He would travel to one of the temples and kneel in worship in front of one of the many statues that portrayed his lover. And he would wait, silent and entirely still, until the Parkour God himself descended from the sky to pull his partner into his arms.
He could call for Evbo any time of the day, for any reason, but there was something sacred in the act of direct worship. The kind of worship given not between lovers, but between a god and his chosen mortals.
There was a soft hum, then Evbo shifted, ever-so-slightly. When he spoke, Seawatt could practically taste the words on his tongue with their nearness. “I want to kiss you,” the god murmured. He ran one thumb over Seawatt’s lips, parting them slightly. Seawatt stayed perfectly still. Evbo’s hands were always so soft, his touch always so careful.
“You’ve never asked permission before,” Sea responded in an equally quiet tone.
He almost expected Evbo to steal the kiss right there, but the god remained motionless. So, so close, their faces a mere few centimeters apart, but Evbo did not close the distance.
“It feels wrong,” Evbo confessed, like he was admitting to a sin. “I shouldn’t be just… wanting things to go back to normal. Not so soon.”
“We’ve been a family for so long; I’m not surprised you feel that way. But… it’s okay to be happy. Feeling grief like this- it isn’t consistent. It comes and goes. Sometimes, you’ll see something in the corner of your eye and it’ll remind you of them, and then it’s like you just lost them over again. It’s natural. It’s okay. And… don’t forget,” he added, swiping his own thumbs over the tears that slowly leaked out from the corner of Evbo’s eyes. “You still have Em and I. We’re not going anywhere for a long time.” He slowly lowered his hands, cupping his partner’s face before sliding them down to his shoulders. “You don’t have to let yourself be consumed by it. Everyone grieves differently. If you need the kind of comfort only Em and I can provide, then that’s okay.”
“I…” Evbo inhaled slowly. “I never learned how to grieve properly.”
“Neither did I,” Seawatt agreed. “So… let’s learn together, okay?”
Seawatt was the one to finally break the distance, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to his lover’s lips. Evbo froze for only a second before pressing into it. He deepened the kiss with a hum, hands tangling in Seawatt’s hair. Seawatt let his own hands brush over the downy feathers on Evbo’s wings, ticklish against the pads of his fingers but impossibly soft to the touch.
Seawatt only broke the kiss when his chest began to ache from the lack of air. Evbo whined in protest and chased him, and… well, who was Seawatt to refuse his lifelong partner the touch he so desperately needed?
“I love you,” Evbo whispered against his lips, moving only just enough to get the words out before placing another firm kiss against the corner of Seawatt’s mouth. “Thank you. For everything. You guys… you all made my life worth it. I’m glad I never gave up in the Noob Layer. I don’t… I don’t even want to know what life would be like without this family.”
“I’ll tell you exactly what we would’ve done,” Seawatt said. “I would’ve lived the rest of my life as a tool, in a loveless relationship with someone I could barely stand, condemning innocent people to hell just for missing a jump. And Em would’ve stayed a Master, abusing the Pros when they didn’t do their jobs but casting a blind eye to the days they let the Noobs starve.” Seawatt paused, then added in a much quieter voice: “…and Boey would’ve died decades ago. Scared and alone, never knowing the peace that he deserved. Instead, he lived the rest of his life surrounded by love. And that’s all because of you. You saved all of us. Bless the Parkour God. The savior.” He kissed Evbo again. “The forgiving.” Again. “The beautiful. ” Again. “And the reason I have experienced the life of my dreams.”
Evbo giggled , a soft, sweet sound. Like birds chirping on the wind. “My Sea,” he whispered in a reverent tone. “I can never… never properly express how happy you have all made my life. If I gave you all the world, it wouldn’t be enough.”
Seawatt hummed. “Well… you could start by letting me finish your wings.”
“That sounds more like you’re helping me with something and not the other way around.”
“Semantics. Plus you sleep with those wings now. I’m tired of waking up with giant grease stains all over my night clothes.”
“So bossy,” Evbo teased, but he did slowly pull himself away and spread his wings once more for Seawatt to pick through. Some of his feathers had gotten messed up again, so he settled those back into place before returning to the tedious task of breaking up the pins.
The grease-keratin dust mixture stuck to his hands was an awful sensation, but unfortunately a familiar one. As he worked, he began to hum quietly.
Both the Fighters and Noobs had strong musical cultures, though cultures with wildly varying tones. The Fighters were all about volume, movement, and noise. They would rattle their chainmail boots and sing at the top of their lungs, fast paced melodies and complicated patterns.
The Noobs, however, had to reserve as much energy as they could, so their songs were soft and slow. Never punctuated with percussion or shouts or loud calls. Instead, they would use long, held-out notes and whatever other sounds they could produce with as little movement as possible. Their songs were haunting in a way that Seawatt couldn’t describe, echoing and somber.
When brought together, you would hear the kind of songs Seawatt and Evbo would sing to the rest of their family.
Evbo would pick the lyrics from Fighter songs and slow down the tune. He would replace instruments with his own voice and the percussion would be, at most, what he could do with his hands. Suddenly, the songs from Seawatt’s youth became achingly nostalgic as lyrics speaking of triumphs and battles were sung in a warbling, minor key.
Seawatt was more apt to do the opposite. He would pull lyrics from the songs that Evbo sang and speed them up. He would add all kinds of movements and sounds and lyrics, turning the slow, somber music sung by a dying people into songs of victory. Songs meant to inspire and celebrate instead of mourn and distract.
The song that Seawatt was humming now was more akin to Evbo’s music than his own. A soft, comforting lullaby he had heard the god sing to their son over the years, uncaring of how old he got or how much he insisted that he no longer needed something like a lullaby to calm down.
It relaxed Evbo just as much as it had his counterpart. He leaned heavier and heavier into Seawatt, eyes beginning to droop as the soft melody took over.
Seawatt continued his diligent work as he sang, releasing pins and straightening them out with deft, practiced fingers. When he got to the primary flight feathers, though, something began to change.
Flight feathers were always satisfying to release. The casing would crumble away and a long, bright, gorgeous feather would be left in its place. And that was the same, his feathers still reacted the same.
The thing that was strange was that the first flight feather he pulled free was not a deep purple or black, like his feathers had always been, for as long as he had taken this form. Instead, what settled into Seawatt’s hand was a long, sharp feather that shimmered with a hundred different shades of green . It seemed to catch the light like a prism, shifting colors as Seawatt turned it slightly to get a better look, but all the while retaining its vibrant green coloration.
“Your feathers… did you know they were turning green?”
“Really?” The god twisted sleepily. He pulled his wing away from Seawatt with a single tug, tired eyes tracing over the new feather with curiosity and confusion. “Oh…” he said after a moment. “It must be a side effect of my… control. Or… lack of thereof, I guess? It’s… difficult to put into words.”
“You think it’s because you’re becoming more in touch with your god side?” Seawatt guessed as he lightly pinched the feather between his fingers.
“I’m losing my humanity. Slowly but surely,” Evbo admitted. “I felt it slipping, back at his bedside. But I kept a hold of it.” He sighed. “Apparently not well enough.”
Seawatt brushed the green feather thoughtfully. “Well… I think it looks nice on you. It makes the wings look more like… yours.”
Evbo hummed, clearly unconvinced.
“Your color has always been green. Emeralds, that’s what you gave us, remember?” He moved away from the green feather and buried his hands in the thicker feathers towards the middle of his wing. There: another pin, smaller than the first, but a similar shade. When he pulled the keratin free, just as he expected, the feather came out a beautiful, vibrant green. “Are… are you worried about it?”
Evbo gave a half hearted shrug.
Seawatt sighed. “Please. You don’t have to worry about that. It doesn’t matter if you’re human, god, or something else entirely. You’ve got Em and I for the long run, remember that.”
“That’s the thing, though,” Evbo protested. “If the only thing keeping me tied to my humanity is you guys, what will happen when you choose to move on? Will I… will I even be myself anymore? I don’t want to lose my humanity…”
“Oh, Ev,” Seawatt murmured. He ran his fingers through the feathers they were buried in. “I… I don’t have any way to comfort you. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s going to be a long time before you have to worry about any of that. And we’ll be with you every step of the way. No matter what.”
Evbo fiddled with his hands, twisting his fingers as if trying to come up with something to say. Finally, he gave a soft: “thank you,” and left it at that.
Seawatt finished the last of the pins and dusted his hands off. Finally, his partner’s wings were back in a reasonable shape. The fire had begun to kick up again, only slightly, crackling as flames hit damp spots but holding steady. Evbo slowly folded them to his back, feathers glimmering in the light with the movement.
“Thank you, Sea,” the god said. His smile seemed more forced than it had earlier, but now wasn’t the time to call him out on it.
“Of course, Ev. Anytime you need it, please don’t hesitate to say something. I don’t like it when you let your wings get this bad.”
“I know, I know…” he sighed. “It’s just… it’s hard…”
Seawatt pulled his husband into a hug. Evbo shuddered but immediately reciprocated, fingers digging into the back of Seawatt’s shirt.
“We’re here, Ev. We’re not going anywhere for a long time. And we’ll get through this.” He leaned back, just enough to tuck a tuft of loose hair back into his partner’s headband.
“Together.”