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"What." Narinder's voice was filled with unusual for him levels of disbelief. He stared at Lamb coldly, watching as they ran in place, clearly excited.
"It said it wants to see you! I don't know why or how it knows you're alive but it specifically asked for you," said Lambert, taking hold of Narinder's sleeve and started dragging him towards the exit of the cult, without even asking if he wanted to go with them.
And Narinder? Well, he could, of course, decline. But he was curious about whoever "it" was. Lamb approached him out of nowhere, spewing some nonsense about a mysterious being that spoke something about his dead siblings, purgatory and, as it turns out, it wished to meet the former God of Death. Anyone would get curious, even Leshy with his terrible attention span.
What he expected to see as they left he cult was the gate to the place that held him prisoner. What he saw was an entrance to... Well, somewhere, certainly. And in the middle, guarding it, was...
"You." Narinder straight up hissed and walked towards the mysterious being, one he named Mystic Seller back in the day.
The... deity(?) looked at him and, just as Narinder remembered, its gaze was as mysterious as its whole being.
"Ah, God of Death. We meet again," it spoke, its voice a mix of different pitches and accents, making itself difficult to understand to anyone who wasn't a god. After all, it spoke to gods only and it meant it in all senses of the words.
Narinder opened his mouth to speak, but got interrupted by the Lamb.
Right. He forgot they were here.
"You know them?!" His former vessel screamed, grabbing Narinder by the front of his robes and staring at him with wide eyes, "When in the hell were you going to tell me that you know them?!"
Narinder exhaled to try and stop himself from digging his claws into Lamb's neck and instead glared at them, pushing them behind his body to give himself at least an illusion of privacy. The Crown, though, stayed in front of him, floating in the air. Its eye was staring at the former God with something akin to understanding and Narinder gently pushed it to the side before turning his attention back towards the Mystic Seller. He had questions and he'll be damned if he doesn't get any answers.
"Cut the crap. You wouldn't speak to me for no reason," Narinder said in a cold tone, his gaze so cryptic it could rival the Mystic Seller's, "Speak. What do you want from me?"
Mystic Seller let out a sound which sounded a lot like a chuckle, though the cat couldn't be sure, "Worry not, former God, for I only have an offer."
Narinder huffed out a humorless laugh. The last time he accepted Mystic Seller's offer it was less than pleasant and he wasn't going to make that mistake again.
Lamb was bleating something in the background. The Crown was watching the exchange between its former bearer and the deity intently. Narinder ignored them both.
"An offer? Ha! That's funny," The cat spoke in a sour tone, "You don't offer anything to non-gods, not even former ones."
The Mystic Seller regarded him for a moment, staring at him as if it was considering something.
"Call it a kindness, then." It moved its hand, made of pure darkness just like the rest of it, in a dismissive gesture.
For some reason the way the being said it made Narinder's fur stand on end.
He wanted to protest. He wanted to just turn around and go back to the prison that was the Lamb's cult (except it wasn't a prison, was it? He could leave whenever he wanted.) and forget this interaction ever happened. Except...
Except a being like the Mystic Seller offering kindness of all things was so unusual that Narinder couldn't bring himself to say no to this. And so he stared at the Mystic Seller as it rummaged in the... Whatever was under their robes.
Whatever item the Mystic Seller was going to give to the former God of Death got squashed in the palm of its hand before Narinder could see what it was.
"Extend your hand, Death, and accept this gift." It extended its own hand just as Narinder extended his, causing a pitch black liquid (with specks of what was probably blood in it) to drip onto Narinder's skeletal hand. Whatever the liquid was got absorbed by his body and suddenly, Narinder's being felt complete.
Before he could speak about what happened, he could feel energy coursing through his arm, right back to his hand. The liquid seemed to come back out, but this time? This time it took shape.
First formed the snath. It was ichor-black and hard as iron; taller than Narinder by considerable lenght, but not enough to be uncomfortable to hold. At the top of it formed the blade, long and shiny. Lastly, at the top of the snath, formed a red eye. It was unblinking, unmoving, yet it was clearly alive with Narinder's very own life essence. It was beautiful. It was a scythe. It was a mockery.
Then, the Mystic Seller spoke, "May it serve you better than it did last time."
Narinder stared between the being and his new procured weapon, his eyes wide with near-panic.
And then he left. He turned around and went back to the cult, scythe in hand, leaving Lamb dumbfounded in the company of the ever-stoic Mystic Seller.
"Narinder!" The Lamb screamed after the former god and, without even looking at the Mystic Seller, they ran after him, "Nari, wait!"
But Narinder didn't stop, at least not until Lambert grabbed the cat's hood.
Immediately Lamb knew it was a huge mistake, as Narinder used the scythe immediately, swinging the blade in his vessel's direction and almost causing them to lose their head again.
If it was anyone else Lamb would be livid.
With Narinder, though, they were only fascinated.
"Woah!" They exclaimed as they jumped away from the scythe's blade, "Cool! You move it so effortlessly!"
"Leave me alone, vessel." Narinder's hiss was full of anger, but Lambert knew it wasn't really directed at them, and so they didn't leave their former god alone, but did the exact opposite.
They were silent until they got to Narinder's hut, just in case the flock overheard what they were going to talk about. Narinder is already considered an outcast, there was no need to make him seem any more weird than the flock already believes he is.
Once the door closed and Narinder sat on his bed, Lamb stood in front of them, hands on their hips, and stared at the cat expectantly, huffing when they were completely ignored. Narinder was just... Sitting there. Staring at the scythe like he had a personal grudge against it.
"Alright, explain. Who was that guy out there and how do you know it." Lamb finally spoke, nothing that only Narinder's third eye was looking at him.
Then the cat sighed and the scythe disappeared, getting sorta... Absorbed back into Narinder's arm. Lamb wasn't actually sure what was going on there but he wasn't going to question it. There were better things to question, after all.
"None of your business." Narinder answered, his tone emotionless. And okay, maybe he was right, Lamb wasn't above admitting that, but the thing was, they didn't care.
"I'm not asking you to share everything! I just wanna know how you know it!" The former vessel insisted and to their delight, Narinder let out an annoyed sigh and looked up at the Lamb with all three of his eyes, his gaze tired.
"I made a deal with it, centuries ago. That's all you need to know." He said with a tone of someone who will not speak another word on the matter.
Lamb hummed curiously. They wanted to ask more about the deal and what the terms of it were, but wisely decided against it. The last thing they wanted was to get very rudely killed on the grounds of their own cult. Just imagine the things it would do to their flock's devotion! It simply wasn't worth it.
Instead, they decided to ask something else. "Okay. Sooo... Why a scythe?" They sat next to Narinder on the bed, keeping enough space between them so they don't touch accidentally, buy if one of them wanted to, they could simply lean towards the other a bit to bump their shoulders.
"It is... A mockery of who I was." Narinder answered simply, for it was true and Lamb knew that.
"Yeah, okay, that makes sense." They nodded and looked at the former God's bare arms, "And what is it made of? It looked like... Space goop or something." Well, maybe that was a wrong comparison but hey. They just started ascending to godhood, it's not like they're going to know the right terminology for everything right off the bat.
They tensed when Narinder took a deep breath and gripped the fabric of their robes, right above his heart, "It does not matter. Whatever it was created of is long forgotten anyway."
Lamb frowned, "Don't be so cryptic about it, come on." They huffed, lightly nudging their companion's shoulder with their own.
The way Narinder glared at Lambert could probably turn a regular follower to stone, "Leave it, Lamb. There are matters that go beyond your understanding."
"Yeah, because you don't explain them to me."
"Or perhaps you're just too stupid to understand things without any explanations."
"I could just read your mind."
"But you won't."
"Yeah, okay. I won't. You got me."
And with that, they both fell silent.