Chapter Text
To anyone looking at him from an outside perspective, it would almost appear like he disrobed and left; Hastur was seemingly nowhere in his room. But much like how a hermit crab would curl up into its shell for protection, the hunter had essentially sunk into the void of his very being and... hid. From himself. From his feelings. From Eli and everyone else. It looked like the only thing remaining was his robes thrown onto the nest of his bed, but a couple of tentacles that occasionally squirmed out from underneath the yellowed fabric would’ve given his presence away.
How does one hide from themselves?
The manor took everything away from its contestants, survivors and hunters both. For Hastur, the contract born of a ritual forced him to take a form that was able to not only get around on land but also participate in the matches. He defaulted to the one that he used to take ages ago when communing with humans was more commonplace. Imposing, terrifying, strong... and now huddled up within the nest he made, in a pathetic ball of tentacles and robes. This place could take away most things, but it could not take away his nature as a God, to bend the fabric of reality to his desires outside of those trials. And thus, Hastur curled up and sequestered himself away in his own being.
Inside, well, himself was nothing but darkness. Not even the glowing red of his many eyes shone here. A heavy pressure weighed upon him, floating within the endless abyss... The abyss that made up Him. And yet, there was no discomfort here. Only peace and quiet in the never-ending vacuum of this inky black void. The only thing that existed here was his mind. It felt a lot like it used to back then, when he’d slumber underwater at the bottom of that lake, only ever disturbed by prayer or the occasional wildlife. Perhaps some rest would do him some good. How long had it been since he last slept? Gods didn’t need to do so, yet anyone’s mind could admittedly benefit from it. Hastur tried his best to relax, concluding that it’d probably be for the best.
Yet sleep eluded him. Or at least the equivalent of it did. Minutes turned to hours and nothing came of his hiding. On and on Hastur’s mind continued to race at the possibilities; every single possible conclusion to this dilemma was thought about, but only the worst ones remained to echo back at him. Eli knew. Eli knew. He figured things out far too soon—
When were you ever planning on directly telling him your feelings in the first place?
A voice. Not his own. A form of subconscious thought, perhaps?
You told him that all would be revealed when the time was right. But when would that occur? A month? A year? Would it even be within his lifespan?
Of course. Retreating into himself where only his mind and the black tentacled void existed would allow these fears to surface. It was akin to a form of light meditation, introspection, and inner dialogue. Maybe it was time to leave.
Fears left to fester shall lead only to misery later on. How cowardly for a God.
That’s...
Untrue? Either way, you do not actually fear that this mortal could be Haïta. You fear yourself. Your feelings. Your reactions. You fear the unknown, the very thing you preside over. Were Eli to be an incarnation of this mortal, you would constantly ask yourself why this happened. You would ask yourself what the purpose of Haïta leaving you in the past was if he was simply going to return in the end. To you, that would mean you went through so much pointless grief.
Yes, well. Mortals do have a way of making things complicated.
Gods are parasitic to sapient beings. They are fodder. These mortals exist to worship while we exist to cull.
Something that I have always refused to do.
Perhaps directly. But your nature does that for you; knowledge that makes humans go insane and end their lives. Worship that kills through sacrifice. All viewed as beneficial by the cult—beneficial to their Lord.
And yet, Haïta never fell victim to it. I blessed him.
You did far more than just that and you know it.
I gave him his sight back in a way that did not change his very being.
Some would view it as a curse.
He viewed it as a blessing.
Then is it a blessing or a curse to take ownership of a soul? Is it a blessing or a curse for a soul to never know true rest? The natural cycle of death and the decay of the soul have been compromised for Haïta. He can never have a life that is truly his own.
Preposterous. If that were the case, then he would not have been able to...
Leave you? Do you think he left you and the village out of spite or greed? He left you out of fear—fear of the unknown. Of death. Of understanding that there was more to life than only devoting oneself to a God. Of knowing that he could never move on. Does that strike a nerve? Spark a sense of betrayal? The body is far more malleable than the soul; Haïta can physically go where he pleases but his soul still remains yours. Even in death, there will be no cycle past the erosion of most of his memories. And yet, why did he come here where you just so happen to be?
I...
Because his soul yearns for you.
His salvation has come.
His God is here.
The silence that followed was nearly overwhelming. Suddenly, the vacuum of this void felt claustrophobic and unsafe. His very mind was no longer something he could retreat to. Hastur hissed, pulling himself back to the present physical world around him and slowly but surely, his robes began to fill back out. Tentacles became thicker and longer, and those many familiar red eyes flickered back into existence. The God was left sitting there in the ‘nest’ he built a while ago with an even more unreadable expression than usual.
Why did Eli have to learn more than he should have? And so soon too. But how hypocritical of him to be annoyed by someone gaining knowledge when he was the God of it. Was he one to get upset when the truth was revealed? Absolutely not. Yet... No, his current state definitely wasn’t because of that. He couldn’t blame Eli. No, never. Sighing, The Feaster flopped back onto his nest with a grunt, just idly counting various markings that the room’s ceiling had. Anything. Anything at all to keep him from thinking.
But isn’t that what he did by nature? Think? And think? And think?
There was no way for Hastur to escape from his own mind—ironic considering his previous attempts to use it as an escape.
Well, if he couldn’t run from his own thoughts, then he may as well try to find an answer.
The only reason why any of this was happening was... The God couldn’t simplify it down to just one singular thing. No, there were plenty of reasons why he was reacting like this.
First, Eli was potentially Haïta to some degree, regardless of what Yidhra said a while back. Knowing her, she was probably just saying the Seer isn’t him so he’d shut up and stop languishing on her sofa. And how pathetic was that? Remembering his behaviour made something hot and gross form in Hastur’s body. Embarrassment. But that was in the past. As much as he was a God, he still couldn’t change what already happened. Regardless, there was still a chance for Eli and Haïta to be linked. And it scared him.
From a human perspective, Haïta was... Well, was he even an ex? Did it even count when the human just suddenly disappeared from the village and left without a single warning? There was no sense of closure, no resolution. They didn’t break up, per-se. It was as if Haïta just vanished, though he knew that wasn’t the case. The severe flooding the human’s village faced scared Haïta with his own mortality to such an extent that he ran from everything—from his friends, his family, and from Hastur.
As much as it hurt, the God couldn’t blame him. It must’ve been traumatizing to see his entire town slowly succumb to flooding waters. And Hastur was more than willing to just sit by and let nature take its course. At least that was until Haïta begged him to save the village. Part of him wondered if Haïta became resentful of his passive nature as a God who preferred to observe rather than act. Maybe the shepherd hated him for it. Hastur never heard a single prayer from him since that day so one could surmise...
“Hastur!” the human cried. “Hastur! Save the village, please! Please! I beg of you!”
“...Why? Is this not the natural course of things?” He replied. “I far prefer to not get involved, Haïta. You know this. Besides, you will be safe. Your farm is up here in the mountains away from the village. The water won’t rise this high.”
“That’s not the point! People are dying and will continue to die unless something is done!”
“Could they not just move away in advance? Why are they staying? They should evacuate.”
Scoffing, Haïta shook his head. “And uproot their entire lives? Where would they go? And how would they rebuild what they have lost? It is not just me praying to you—begging for you to stop this. I know you have forbid them from praying to you by name but... surely you can still feel their pleas?”
“I do. And it merely makes me wonder if it is sentimentality or stupidity that keeps them bound to their village. Change is inevitable. To stop the flooding is for me to go against the natural order of the world. And what then? What if another natural disaster happens? Would they expect me to stop earthquakes and forest fires too? Would I then have to keep doing it over and over?”
“I...”
“Would I have to coddle them?”
“No... No! Shouldn’t a God care for their worshippers the same as a shepherd for their flock?”
“Many of my kin would disagree...” Hastur sighed.
“Well... you’re not them, are you?”
“No. But I do not see a point in messing with the natural order.”
By this point, Haïta was at a loss for words. He loved his God, he truly did, but if the flooding didn’t stop, even more of his friends and family would die! “My Lord, you have the power to stop things from getting worse. I don’t understand how you can just sit around and watch as they die! Maybe it’s because you don’t feel anything for them, especially not as you do for me, but... for my sake, please! Please do not make me beg any further than I already have!”
“Haïta...”
“If you don’t help them, I’ll... I’ll stop worshipping you!”
And that was more than enough to get the God to finally listen.
Yet Haïta still left afterwards. Hastur wasn’t as obtuse as he was back then when he was still getting used to human mannerisms; he understood that his shepherd must have witnessed people drowning. It absolutely had to have traumatized him. And how horrible must it have felt for Haïta’s pleas to be denied time and time again by not just his God, but his lover? He had the power to stop everything but refused to. No, Hastur couldn’t blame Haïta. He only had himself to blame. Inaction in the face of suffering was nothing but selfishness.
The hunter sat up from his nest of self-loathing before sighing, an admittedly human-like behaviour. Part of him didn’t want to give in; he’d had the internal debate of who or what was the cause, but each and every time the answer was the same. Even though Hastur didn’t want to mess with the natural order of the world, the fact still was that he was a God who could have put an early stop to the suffering of his worshippers. Instead, he turned his back on them. And, yes, beings like himself were typically cruel or otherwise manipulative, only using their believers for power and not much else, but...
“Well... you’re not them, are you?”
Haïta’s past words rung in his mind, over and over until The Feaster couldn’t take it anymore. With a grumble, Hastur got up from his spot and quickly slithered over to the door—an easy enough thing to do given that his room was nearly empty save for the borderline nest he created. But before he left, he peeked out of the door. Thankfully no one was around to see him like this, so he exited and moved as fast as he could down the hallway. It took a bit of time but Hastur eventually made it to a room he was all too familiar with. Yidhra’s.
But should he bother her? Last time, she barely tolerated his presence. And if he listened closely enough... yes, he could hear faint voices. She already had someone in the room with her. It wasn’t like Yidhra to have guests, though could he really say that if he was about to knock on her door himself? Chances are she was just talking to one of her devotees; the little worshippers that followed her around the manor like beloved dogs. But if there was another hunter in there... Should he bother her right now? No, it wouldn’t be good to have a hunter other than her see him in this state. At least Yidhra wasn’t overly keen on gossip. But if someone like, say, Jack were to see him... A shudder went through the God. Every hunter in the Manor would know by morning that something was wrong.
And there’s never anything wrong with a God.
As Gods, they couldn’t experience anything wrong. Perfection is in their very nature. Besides, how could anything be wrong with him? A God of knowledge—an immortal being that existed to hoard things humans couldn’t comprehend. How could anything be wrong with a God that knew everything past and present? Hastur got his title of The Feaster for a reason. He knew how to destroy other Gods in an instant, consuming them for their power and knowledge. He knew how to fix all things. He knew, just... everything. And how could the embodiment of pure godly knowledge feel like something is wrong?
“You’re not them, are you?”
He... He was a God. He was a God. They were cruel beings and one could argue that even he himself was too. He had no one in the Manor who even remotely knew of these sorts of issues. No one except Yidhra and, even then, she was considered ‘lesser’ by most cults due to her being an Outer God instead of a Great Old One like himself. She could bend reality, create creatures at will, and destroy a mortal’s mind. But despite all of that, she didn’t Know. And how could she? Her sphere of Godhood wasn’t in consuming all knowledge of the universe. Even still, she was the closest thing to a being he could share these thoughts with, much like those times before.
Sighing, Hastur brought a hand up to the door in front of him. He could just see who, if anyone, was in there and whether or not she’d be free soon. Yes, that should be fine. Upon knocking on the door, the voices went quiet and he could hear some odd sounds, shuffling and... something breaking? Maybe not. It definitely sounded rushed, however. Curiosity gave him a momentary reprieve from his stress from before, and he called out.
“Yidhra? May I enter?”
No response. Normally she at least sent one of her followers to the door. That said, Hastur didn’t want to intrude on her space lest she start yelling at him. Perhaps she was busy with something and he should come back later. Figures. Another sigh left him and just as he was turning away to leave, the door opened. One of her followers stood there, looking up at him with an emotionless expression as usual.
“Is Yidhra free?”
No response, though this time it was from the little girl standing before him. Instead, a familiar voice called out from inside the room, “I am, I am. Come in if you really must, Feaster.”
He did just that, slithering through the doorway (though having to duck given his height) and immediately going to sit on the same sofa he already had numerous times before.
The Dream Witch, although blindfolded, rolled her eyes. “What is it now? Is your attempted courtship going south?”
“Eli knows about the contents of the letter I wrote to him. He told me in a match.”
“Oh..." she paused before shrugging. "I mean, wouldn’t he have found out at some point anyways?”
“Yes, but,” Hastur paused to gather his thoughts, “It’s too soon. We have only had one date.”
“Hastur, you fool, I’d hardly consider asking him to spend some time with you a date.”
Puzzled, the other God crossed his arms. “You yourself said that dates are what humans do to see if they are compatible, and that they are typically characterized by spending time together.”
“...Yes. But that you must specifically ask for it to be a date. Not just ask to- ughh... We’ve been over this,” she hissed.
He continued regardless, “There are... other complications as well.”
“Such as?”
“Well, he has—or at least had—a fiancée.”
Yidhra scoffed and shook her head. “And? Is he still clinging to the idea of her?”
“I do not know. He said he hopes she managed to find a family of her own and move on. It sounds like he isn’t clinging to the past, which is good, but I fear...”
“You fear? You, a God, fear? At this rate, I may be beginning to fear something myself.” Yidhra, ever ready to push his buttons, pointed a clawed finger at him and leaned forward before hissing, “I’m starting to fear that you are growing soft! Ah, but ever have you been clueless when it comes to these things. God of knowledge you may be, but experienced you are not.”
Yet again, as though the Dream Witch wasn’t even speaking, he continued, “I fear his connection to Haïta. I understand you have said there most likely isn’t any connection, but I highly doubt that given all of these... feelings, visions, and thoughts I have had.”
“Speaking of clinging to the past.”
“Yidhra...”
“But it is true!” She didn’t know whether or not to grimace or grin; by this point, both would be appropriate. “You cling to your past relationship with Haïta, or rather your falling out with him, and are just projecting your pain onto this!”
“It... isn’t really projection...”
“Then what is it!?”
“I hurt him. I hurt Haïta so very badly. I stood idle when his friends and family were dying in the flood. I could have stopped it long before it ever got to that point and yet... It took him begging me, threatening me to get me to act.” Hastur slumped forward, resting his elbows on his ‘lap’. There was a troubling empty gaze in those many eyes of his. “I know not if Eli is merely some vague descendant of Haïta’s, or if his soul is the same but without memory. But what I do know is that they are definitely linked and I would not want to hurt him—either of them.”
“And how would you ever hurt him?”
Hastur paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, soon sighing. All the while, his tentacles squirmed as though it was his version of leg bouncing. “I think it can be best explained through a hypothetical situation. If you were to have a partner leave, but their subconscious continues to think about you and you prey upon that fact to get them back, that is wrong.” The God fiddled with some of the bandages wrapping his clawed hands, voice turning to a grumble. “Now, in this case, said ‘subconscious’ is the link between Haïta and I. His soul would be forever damned to seek me out regardless of any effort to ‘move on’.”
Yidhra hummed to herself, taking a moment to really consider how the hell she was going to get Hastur out of her room while helping him resolve some of this stress. But before she could speak up, The Feaster continued.
“Another issue... Several days ago, I felt him praying in a match.”
“To you?” she asked.
“No. I don’t feel like it was to anyone in specific. Just in general. But I felt it and it had been so long without prayer or worship. It felt... intoxicating, even if it was not directed towards me. And I fear that my nature as a God will attempt to force him into worshipping me.”
“Why not let him? We are Gods. We prey upon mortals for our own gain. It’s why I like my followers; they want for nothing but my presence,” she practically cooed, lightly petting one of the small girls she had with her at all times. “You had Haïta worship you even when he was your partner.”
“Haïta started as one of my devotees and actively wanted to continue his worship; it was his decision. I understand that we are Gods and we live to be revered, but...”
“You’re not them, are you?”
There was a moment of silence between them. Two Gods—one fully embracing her nature as a chaotic being that preyed upon mortals, the other pushing it away despite everything his instincts told him. They sat there, each with their own thoughts that would immediately clash should any be voiced. It was Yidhra who broke the lull in conversation.
“You feel out of control.”
“Come again?”
“Power is in a God’s nature. Any loss of control is bound to feel devastating. Eli was the one to confront you about your own feelings, providing zero time for you to slowly figure them out yourself. You know you like him but do not know what to do with all the other things you feel. Eli was the one to make the first step, not you. And from everything you have said to me about him, if Eli wanted nothing to do with it, he would just tell you.” Suddenly, Yidhra grinned. And for the first time in a while, Hastur felt put off by her expression. It looked... devious. “I have said this before and I shall continue to say it so long as we exist: you are an utter fool.”
The Feaster wrung his hands together. “You always say that.”
“Indeed I do,” Yidhra chuckled, “And I’m right. So burdened by this loss of control are you that you can not even see what is directly in front of your many eyes.” She extended a long clawed finger at him, this time leaning forward to poke him directly in a tentacle. “God of knowledge, but you do not even know yourself enough to pick these things apart. Did Eli ask you to talk with him about your letter?”
“...Yes.”
“He is asking you to communicate the truth to him—your feelings. There is no harm in doing such a thing, especially when Eli has not yet denied you. If you really fear him potentially being linked in some way to your past love, then why not tell him that? Your fears may mean absolutely nothing if he does not care and is willing to press on regardless. Besides,” Yidhra moved back to rest against her chair, “He isn’t Haïta, of that I am certain. Eli is Eli. And getting closer to him may allow you to find the answer to things.”
“Ugh... I can not deny your logic. If Eli is the one to invite me to talk about things, then that would be his choice regardless of... everything else. The most I could do is warn him about my fears and see what he thinks. Perhaps it is time to relinquish the control I am trying to keep and give it to him. He clearly has more experience than I do.” The God, finally beginning to calm down, then mumbled to himself, “I just don’t want to hurt him.” Hastur relaxed a little. She was right; he couldn't keep trying to avoid things when Eli was the one pushing to get closer. They both wanted the same thing and yet his own fears kept getting in the way. It might be for the best to let the Seer lead things rather than the other way around. It was going to be tough for a God to relinquish control when such things were in their very nature but if it helped close this gap between them, he'd do it for Eli.
Between the Dream Witch’s berating and support (an odd mixture to be sure), her jarringly steadfast and chaotic nature helped Hastur snap out of his spiral. She almost grounded him in a way; where he was one to think and think and think, she was far simpler and embraced her instinctual drive. And speaking of that...
“It may also allow you to get another worshipper, hmm?”
“No.” And that was more than enough to get The Feaster to rise from his seat and begin slithering towards the door. “I believe I have overstayed my welcome and I must prepare to... to face him.”
“Not that there was much of a welcome in the first place...” she hissed back, ever teasing. But before he could leave, Yidhra called out to him. “Feaster. One last question. What do you see in Eli?”
At that, Hastur had to pause, even turning around while thinking. It was almost as though he got a bit defensive at the question until he saw a surprising lack of malice in Yidhra’s expression. Perhaps it was just genuine curiosity for once? “He is... a very nice person. He is patient and understanding, and does not shun me like most. My affections for him go far beyond just an appreciation for companionship. Eli is someone easy for me to speak with, as he is interested in hearing all I have to say and enjoys sharing his own thoughts. He is also very accommodating, going so far as to fix an entire seating arrangement to make me comfortable. I feel warm and at peace when around him.”
“I’m sure it goes much further than some half-hearted clinical answer,” she hissed.
“I... Yes? I would be here all day were I to explain in detail.”
“Did your affections for him really drive you to create an entire nesting space?”
And that was the final straw. Something akin to embarrassment flooded his senses and, instead of questioning how she knew that, Hastur turned around and opened the door. The God slithered out in a hurry to escape her taunting, Yidhra’s laughter following him all the while as he quickly made his way through the halls and back to his own room. Unlike before, he no longer cared if another hunter saw him. At least she helped snap him out of it.
But back in the Dream Witch’s presence, a closet door quietly opened behind the seated God.
“Did you hear everything?” Yidhra asked without turning around.
“Yes. I think I have what I need now. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. Now get out of here before he tries to bother me again.”