2,054A/N
Was trying to keep a weekly schedule for this thing, now-a-days. Got a little sick, and work was kicking my ass.
Good news though. I finally saw Guardians 3. Absolutely no idea how I missed an entire movie's release. Didn't even know it was out until one of the beautiful people that throws money at me told me about it. Gave me a lot of ideas.
Disclaimer: Do you honestly think I own this shit?
Nathan felt weird. Everything seemed to be in the right place. He had two arms, two legs, unfathomable cosmic power, his eyebrows didn't turn into caterpillars, etcetera. Nothing was where it shouldn't be. Everything was where it always had been. He still had his vibranium bones. He still had access to his celestial energy. He could still feel the eldritch powers that inhabited all of existence, just a word, or a twist of his wrist away.
He turned his hands over, scanning for any physical differences, but found nothing that could be dumbed down to the point where his human eyes could see. Whatever changed seemed more… conceptual, than anything else. Like an aspect of the universe decided that he was a cute puppy, and just signed the adoption papers.
But even that wasn't entirely right. Wasn't even close to right.
No, he could feel it. His soul was gone.
The very thing that made him Nathaniel Edward Quill was absent from his mortal coil.
He didn't feel the loss. If he had to put a word to it, he would say the damn thing dispersed. It hadn't been ripped from him. Its dispersal hadn't left him as a husk of his former self. He didn't feel like he was missing a part of himself at all. Rather, it felt like "himself" now encompassed a lot more than the physical form that sat on an underground throne, somewhere in (probably) Colorado.
The very temple around him felt like a part of himself. Like a limb that, if flexed, would bend to his will without effort. The mountain surrounding it felt the same as the skin on his arms, each tree a follicle of hair. Every badger, deer, and mouse was as noticeable as an army of ants crawling across his skin.
But even further than that, he could feel the planet itself. The living concepts that called the Earth home. The absolute abundance of life that spread across its surface, and into its every crevasse. He could feel the moon, and its glimmering surface. The love that radiated along with its light at midnight, and the serenity of its reflection upon the water. He could feel the affection it had for the tides, and how the oceans would call out its name in ecstasy, as if fighting for the attention of their collective lover.
He could feel each planet in the solar system. A dysfunctional family, for sure, but one that looked out for each other in the great, dark expanse. Mercury, the one that could see, and was seen by all others. The sounding board, and first messenger in times of danger. Venus, who's love burned so hot that she sacrificed her surface, and bore the wrath of Sol for her siblings. Mars, the tired veteran that told stories of past glory. Jupiter, the protector, the big brother that pulled all the universe's troubles toward himself, so that his siblings didn't have to bear the load. Saturn, the father. The wise eye in the sky, beaten and torn, yet ready to act. Uranus, the reticent. Once powerful, but now tired and reserved. Neptune, the explorer, ever fascinated with the deep dark. And even Pluto, cold and old. Distant from the rest. Small, but fierce in his love for his family.
Earth. The youngest. The golden child, the little green star of hope among the blackness. Where life thrived with cancerous abandon. Arrogant, yet lovable in an ever-changing, ever-ascending bastion of evolution.
Then there was Sol. The heart of it all. The vehicle, the very modus operandi. The life bringer, the alpha and omega, the raison d'etre. There's a reason why nearly every civilization on Earth had a form of sun worship in their history, Nathan reflected. This singular star whimmed life into existence - whether due to boredom or divine purpose, it was the centerpoint and designer of humanity.
And Nathan could feel it. He could see the strands of hope, of anger, of every emotional thread that formed the very life that gave him his origin. He could feel the tapestry of existence that said thread was woven into. He could feel his own influence upon that thread.
If he so chose, he might be able to weave his own picture, given time and effort.
So no. He didn't feel the loss of his soul. Instead, he felt the profound discomfort of his newfound understanding. He felt the weight of the fragile vase, holding the flowers of reality. He felt small, he felt large, he felt overwhelmed and secure at the same time.
He felt everything. Spanning from the smallest grain of sand, to the largest black hole in the universe.
Nathaniel Edward Quill was no longer Nathaniel Edward Quill.
Instead, he was something more, and that fact annoyed the living shit out of him. The wish for omnipotence, if you ever get the chance, is a horrible wish. All the understanding in the universe makes for an incredibly boring existence. There was now no surprise in exploration. There was no corner of the universe, no singular aspect of reality that Nathan was now unaware of.
The plight of Dr. Manhattan, of the great creator, of a kid that outgrew his Legos.
Nathan, exactly one minute after having sat on his throne, became bored. His mind was flooded with innate understanding. His eyes roamed through each dimension, every time, every place, every deep, dark hole that filled the great void.
He could feel himself slipping into a dispassionate stupor, and he did not have the motivation to dig himself out.
That is, until a hand slapped him across the face.
"That's enough of an existential crisis, Master Quill." The Ancient One said with a half-lidded stare, standing in front of him like a stone fortress of resolve. "We have a lot to cover."
Nathan found that he could still be surprised, and true, utter glee supplanted the boredom. His mind flew between visions of every reality, of all that destiny ordained, and yet he never would have guessed that simple slap.
He leapt from his throne, threw his arms around his teacher, and wept.
A conclusion that had been reached within the span of a millisecond, an ever-lasting, and all-encompassing trepidation - was overthrown the instant her hand met his cheek.
Life was the answer. The randomness, the intrigue, the sheer bullshittery that came from individual thought. Purpose was useless, for that was fate. Purpose was understood and predictable. Life was the things in between. Every action taken, every emotion, every person making their way in this horrible, pinball machine of a universe, took what was predetermined, and fucking shat on it.
The Elder Celtic sighed, and put an arm around her student. Her emotions were clear to him. Her thoughts, like a clean razor, cutting through his psyche - no less novel than a child's first love.
Regardless of how many years he had lived, or how much he had seen, the woman that held him had seen it all differently. The Sorcerer Supreme had faced nearly all that there was, and lived. Not just through adversity, but through raw experience. Through understanding, through love, through every emotion possible under the guise of humanity and all that called this multiverse home.
She might not have his perspective, now, but wasn't that the beauty of it? As a large, magical cat from an entirely different fictional universe said, it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.
Nathan, in the bowels of his existential dread, dived deep into the experience within his teacher's mind, open as it was to him. He could tell she had made it so. A remnant, or perhaps a trickle of Mind that opened the gate. A thread of Soul that brightened between them. A corridor of Time that allowed him passage.
A human being that opened themselves to him, wholeheartedly.
And he saw her plight as different from his own. And in it, salvation.
Yao's mind was assaulted by a slew of poetic nonsense, courtesy of her most promising student. She had seen him start to spiral into a dispassionate state, and quite frankly, did not have the time to work him out of it gradually.
Instead, she opted for something that Nathan had once called "percussive maintenance," and slapped the insensate, newborn deity. The following mental link was a spontaneous decision, and gave her one hell of a headache, but ultimately seemed to bring him out of his funk - if into a different sort of funk.
Her robes would be soaked through at this rate.
The Elder Celtic prided herself on only one thing. Of course, she knew of her own proficiency in the mystic arts, of her knowledge that surpassed many, of her power, of her position. She knew of her accomplishments, and all that made her an effectively immortal wall between abstract danger, and the whole of Earth.
But Pride? Was she proud of any of that? Not particularly. She was proud of her students, for certain. She was proud of what she had helped build, but she knew that pride, true pride, was an evil thing. Deep down, in whatever remained of her humanity after all these years, she had internalized one lesson above nearly all others.
Pride is akin to the promise of Hell. A slippery slope, all too easy to slip down, and doom all that was built in its name. But pride was a cardinal sin for a reason. It was a failing of rational life, held within the heart of every sentient being. It could not be avoided.
So what exception could she make in the face of that? What singular thing did she allow herself to be arrogant in, else fall to the temptation of finding it in everything?
Patience. She was supremely confident in her own patience.
So there she stood, arms wrapped around her weeping student - a young man she had grown to care for over the years. A young man who's artificial daughter called her "grandmother," and found she had little issue accepting the title. Little issue accepting the godling as her son.
There she stood, knowing full well the forces that would converge on their location within short order. Thankfully all somewhat local powers, if her senses hadn't deceived her. Agamotto's shield still protected them from most things - including most prying eyes. Even then, she had felt Odin's eye in the past few moments. Felt his surprise and apprehension. He, at least ,would come in force. The others, likely just in curiosity.
Still, she stood, gently rubbing Nathan's back, assuring him in his continued existence. That it wouldn't be akin to whatever conclusions his divinity-addled mind had drawn him towards. That life was still worth living. Still worth protecting. That he still had a place as Nathan Quill in this reality.
Eventually, Nathan's tears dried. He stopped gasping for breath, stopped grasping for existential purchase.
Eventually, Nathan stepped back from her arms, and gathered himself.
"Fucking Me-dammit, that sucked."
Nathan looked over into his teacher's deadpan stare. Her (completely unfounded) disappointment in his wit, written in her expression.
"Oh, come on!" He gestured vaguely. "I was forced into godhood ten minutes ago. If I can't poke fun at it now, when can I?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You were already a god, Nathan. Now, you're just a god in a different way."
He blinked at her. "Huh."
The Ancient One huffed a laugh. "Forget that already, Mr. interdimensional demigod?"
"Well I mean, to be fair, 'demigod' is not the same thing as 'god.'" He hedged.
"I think we can both agree that you've well surpassed the status of a demigod, even before today." She shook her head. "Proficiency in magic notwithstanding, your inborn abilities, while primarily scientific in practice, essentially put you on par with most creator deities."
"Scale." Nathan shot back. "Scale is important, and I'm still working with the smaller side of it, unless I use one of the stones. I don't think that counts."
The Sorcerer Supreme tilted her head. "And now? Do you think that's changed?" She asked.
The godling frowned, and pondered the question. After a moment, he shrugged. "Dunno. We can figure that out later. In the meantime, I think we have a few guests."
Both of their heads swiveled towards the entrance of Nathan's temple. Towards the wilderness, just outside of its boundaries.
Nathan's teacher sighed. "I suppose we've kept them waiting long enough." She said.
Nathan had felt them arrive, one by one. Each with a towering presence. All waiting patiently at the base of the mountain that housed his temple. He supposed this was now his territory, claimed by the fact of his recent ascension, and the impromptu temple location.
He would have to apologize to whatever pantheon called this part of the world home.
However before his feet could carry him forward, his eyes locked on the thing that he currently held in his right fist. He had moved to scratch his nose, only to nearly poke his eye out with a tomahawk. The very same tomahawk that he had thrown away a few days prior.
"When," Nathan started slowly, "the fuck did this get here."
"Your powers of observation are truly legendary." Alice finally spoke up from around the Ancient One's wrist.
The godling glared at his daughter from over top Starplitter. "You're grounded."
"What?!" The little hologram looked at him, scandalized. "What for?!"
"Being mean to your father." He nodded back with a self satisfied smile.
"Grandmother! Help! Father is succumbing to absolute power! We have to stop the corruption!"
The Elder Celtic couldn't help it, her shoulders jerked as a long, hearty laugh left her lips. For the first time, in a very long time, she felt genuinely secure in the future.
A/N
Once again, there's a new chapter of this up on my pay tre on. Original work, and other stories as well.
Also, I like words. Language is a beautiful thing. So you should say things in the box.