by Will Stanton » Tue Jan 21, 2020 9:42 pm
"Well, strap yourself in, and you can decide how much you want to keep poking around afterwards, if you're so inclined, because this story gets weird."
Will took a deep breath.
"There are a LOT of connections between you and me, back home. You were my headmistress at university; you were an Avenger I idolized growing up; you were my shifting teacher and all these sorts of things. But you already knew all of that; I've mentioned those things before; you're comfortable with the knowledge that you were a kind of mentor figure of sorts. You also know that, over time, we became good friends, above and beyond a role as teacher and student, and you're comfortable with that, as well.
You know that I was....am the Champion of that Morrigan. I've told you about fighting for Her. I've mentioned the blessings she's given me, the tools she's given me to help serve her. I don't think I've mentioned that she literally, in a real solid way, pulled me back from the Pearly Gates...and that's something you're not yet comfortable with; the idea of being more than just corporeal, to have that sort of...power over people. Obviously, the cross-section between Goddess, Teacher and Friend are very complex to interweave, but if that's all it was, that'd still be fairly...simply, comparatively."
He drummed his fingers on the lid of the piano, not looking at Sam as he spoke.
"You're married, over there. To...well, it doesn't really matter who, but someone with a deep mystic history and background. And someone who has the...ability to see into the future. And she knew she was going to die. And rather than tell anyone this, she decided to take matters into her own hands, because she's a little brat at times.
And I'm made of clay. And not actually a person so much as an object. And she knew that, and she took advantage of that. Under the guise of trying to teach me some magic and mysticism, she turned me into a ... canopic jar, I think it was. Something like that. For storing her ba -- her, uh, soul's the wrong word; it's the, whatever it is -- stuff that makes a person unique. And she prepared me to hold hers, without telling anyone what she was doing. Plans within plans within plans.
So then, she died. You...uh, Sam couldn't get there in time, as she had foreseen, and she died. And we mourned, and we wept, and we buried her...and her ba, unknown to any of us, left her and entered me.
We didn't notice anything for a few months. How would we notice anything? Why would we notice anything? But then, both of us---Sam and me -- started to, uh, change. I would get flashes of memory, glimpses of us together. And, as a telepath, you started to...well, get feelings about me. I'm not a telepath, I can't really understand it, fully, but -- I mean, if you and Nailah were soulmates, and I had her soul, then..."
"We thought it was a mistake at first. I had a wife and a kid, you were still in mourning. But I was there, helping you through things, keeping you company, and one thing led to another...and again and again.
Sara didn't understand. How could she? We didn't understand. But she left, and she took Robin with her, and then I needed comforting, and we...held each other together. And it felt right and important, like everything was going to be alright.
That lasted for a while, until my borrowed memories became more prevalent, and it became clear that, as much as I remembered everything, the memories weren't mine. And Sam began to piece together that the feelings we shared weren't just because of our connection, but because her wife was still lurking, somewhere deep in me.
To make a long story short, we were able to separate her Ba from me -- again, I'm made of clay, and making people out of clay is a very mythological thing to do, I'm told. And Sara and I eventually patched things up, and you, and I, and Sara and Nailah and Robin and Aria and Miranda and everyone kind of continued feeling things out, and reached something of an...equilibrium, I'd say. So, most nights, I'm in my home, with Sara, as her husband, or her wife, or her blanket or whatever it is we feel like me being at that point in time. But sometimes, I'm not. Sometimes, I'm just down the hall. With my goddess. Slash teacher. Slash friend. Slash lover. Slash daughter-in-law.
And, all-in-all, we're all happy with the situation. Usually, at any rate. One big, messed up, loving family."