He makes a promise.
It’s an old enough story. He is in love and he will do anything for her. There is no hell he would not endure for her. It is easy, to promise anything from himself to save Agetta. It is a promise he would make a hundred times.
The promise is fulfilled, or so he thought – the dark god thundered and Garbage’s head felt as if it would fracture into a thousand pieces, but pain was a currency he had no trouble spending.
But gods are fickle, aren’t they?
There is comfort in this – the promise doesn’t really matter. He got what he asked for. It does not matter that he paid his debt, because to a god, this does not matter. It was nothing but pomp and circumstance, when truth is, he was always going to be at the dark god’s whim. He’d been foolish to think otherwise.
He isn’t sure what happened, after – he remembers his head split, remembers pain and darkness, and then a terrible, insectile buzzing that seemed to permeate into his bones. There were flashes of images, glimpses of his terribly long life.
The images blur, come apart and stitch back together. There is a sense of something changed, but he does not know what it is.
His mind is easily to shape. He has lost himself before – more times than he cares to count – and somehow, it is almost familiar, this reset, the sense of memories stirring beneath the surface.
He is set back into the world, where it is quiet. He doesn’t mind – he is adrift, still. His mind is a blurred, drunk thing, but he walks like he has a purpose. Like there is somewhere he must be.
@Squirt pony
I've never written a word in my entire life