MILOST | GOD OF THE SOUL, DESPERATION, AND MERCY | M - EVERYONE [INDIRECTLY]
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His hands were covered in blood.
Was it his own?
Was it someone else's?
Whose was it.
…
Where are we?
“Hey. Focus.”
The room was black. Or maybe it was just a wide space? Tentatively, he reached his right arm out as far as he could, the chain loose around his arm clicking. His fingers brushed a surface. An invisible wall? Milost took a step forward, using his left to reach in front of him. He never brushed another surface, even after taking a few steps. What the fuck was this place? Where was the voice coming from? Why did he feel like he was floating?
…
It's too dark. The God never liked the dark.
“Helloooooooo? [___], are you there?”
Milost tried opening his mouth to reply, however his throat came out dry. They couldn't get a single word out, their brain too foggy to really grasp reality around him. Silence envelopes them like a blanket, almost eerily. Taunting. Malicious.
“Ah, I see what's happening.”
A pause.
What? What's happening? What was he just doing?
“[___], you can hear me, can't you?”
The god thought he nodded.
“Good. Then take a breath. Feel your heartbeat.”
In, and out.
“Focus. What can you feel?”
He was standing somewhere dry. The ground beneath his boot shifted and moved ever so slightly when he shuffled his foot, however it remained hard and solid. Dirt? Was he standing on dirt?
“You're doing good. Can you feel the wind, [___]? Remember how it hit our backs when we would play tag?”
He could remember the memory, but not the faces. They could remember the sensation.
Another slow breath was taken, their fingers moving slightly to brush against where his heart was.
“Alright.”
“Now open your eyes.”
- - -
He blinked, and all at once the landscape came back to him. It was an intense feeling, and he could feel himself lurch a little as his brain fought to regain it's sense of where the fuck they were.
Wasn't I in a house?
Or… was it a treehouse? Or even a restaurant?
Where has they been moments before floating in the black void? Had he simply spaced out too much?
Milost flexed his fingers a little bit, trying to calm his pounding heart as he took slow breaths once again to calm his brain. The void had been dark and suffocating. Like trying to drown him, but also with the sensation that he was floating. It was restricting, but also free at the same moment. He… they all shivered at the recollection of the feeling. Was there a way he'd end back there?
Your hands are shaking.
Milost looked up with his eyes, barely able to see the shadows the trees cast down as the sun overhead continued to taunt the grey landscape. That's right. The war had ended a few hours ago. The land was dead.
Is he okay now?
Of course he's okay! He's moving, isn't he?
Let's remember to never do that again.
That was terrifying.
Oh. The god thought he could grasp the situation now. He had tried using his ability “Soul Search” to truly confirm whether everything and everyone perished. This was true. There were no souls. At least, souls with a bright pulse. Even the trees had little life left to offer forward, soul so faint it was safe for Milost to even call them dead. The darkness when he wasn't able to see anything must have made his brain panic and shut down.
Sorry.
The voice chimed, louder than the others who immediately quieted.
I can take over?
A different one tentatively offered, nudging forward a little closer in case he accepted their offer
No, no, it's- I'm okay.
He couldn't falter right now and place his responsibilities onto another. The matter at hand was whether a new world was to be created or not. To start over. Milost themself had to admit they were a little conflicted. On one hand, it would give them a chance to redeem themselves and start brand new, leaving this world so they could scrap it and build a new foundation upon which this one had set. Hopefully mistakes would not be repeated. On the other hand, however, Milost was worried other gods would totally forget about this world and what had happened, burying themselves in the responsibilities of the new world. It was irresponsible to forget about what happened in this world, no matter how much you were at fault or took part in the bloodshed.
The new world shouldn't be a scapegoat to forget the misery here.
Another matter at hand. Were they ready to make a new world? Were their thoughts too clouded? Too muddled right now to properly build some strong foundations? And what about working together? Milost knew that quite a few gods had clashed swords and exchanged venomous words to one another during and even before the war. Would they set things aside? How reasonable were these people? Milost has met everyone left maybe once, twice if he was lucky or in a chance encounter during the war. He never teamed up with any of them though, had never drawn his bow for their cause or people. His one exception has been with a goddess. The goddess of Birds, Consequence, and Fate, that is. He couldn't quite remember why he had even launched a glass arrow in the first place. Just them fighting back to back on a grey field while… people(?) cried and screamed at them, advancing with sharp weaponry. It was terrifying. She hadn't made it out.
Nevermind.
He grumbled a little, extending his hand in front of him with his palm facing towards the sky. They watched as the light from the sun danced across their fingers, causing the shadows to change and shift ever so slightly. That wasn't important. It was bad to reminisce too much.
WIP
Winter 
Night Weather: 
Blizzard Moon: 
