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"So there are... You can hear them? Or- I don't understand. There's still some you there, but... How does that work?"

Because she can imagine a lot of dead in his life.

"The curse... Every time I 'died', my soul took over the body of my heir. First my sons and then their sons and then down through the long line. Sixteen generations of souls sacrificed unwillingly to mine." He ate his children, it doesn't matter that it hadn't been his will either, he knows what type of monster it has made him.

"That's horrible," she says, softly, scarcely forming the words. She's not horrified of him, but rather for the sort of weight that must put on him. Her hand rests on his, though she can't tell if he even remembers it's there.

Which makes more sense now. She knows full well that some losses don't ever heal, don't ever even get numb.

"How did you get cursed?"

He's too lost in the past to notice, even as he gives her his most ironic smile (the distance it offers might only be an illusion but it's one he holds to).

"It was to be a salvation. Our lands had been invaded, my people killed as they tried to destroy all that we were. We begged the gods for help but they turned away, prayers left unanswered. A spell was to be worked, one that would allow us to fight, immortal, against our enemy. A great ritual, three days and nights we worked and sang, I stood at the center as king and anchor. But they came upon us before the magic was complete, Audar and his men. They slaughter all who were there, warrior and camp follower alike. I feel that day, for the first time, and what was to be a spell twisted into a curse."

"You must hate the gods," she says, her voice still soft. What he describes is so large it's hard to even claim sympathy--that implies being able to understand it on some level. She's been desperate, she has done horrible things to try to save herself or her people, but she's never had it so thoroughly twisted back on her.

"Yes, I hate the gods and I spent four hundred years fighting their will. In the end, there is no victory over them but I could at least deprive them of their desire." The hatred had kept him going, in some ways, kept his mind together in focused rage as he saw everything lost. "Time is even crueler than the gods but it, at least, makes no promises."

"What did they want from you?" It's hard for her to imagine that gods could want nothing. Why exist, why be near, if not to gain something?

But she also can't fathom why a god would handle its subject this way.

"My soul, as they wish to take the souls of all who die. That is the last choice, the truest choice in life - to join with your god or to turn your back and fade into nothing." He had made his choice, he will never forgive the fact even that was removed.

"You turned your back so you could...fade," this, she does have empathy for. "And instead you ended up here, didn't you?"

"Yes. It took a hundred and fifty years to create an end and then -" And then he'd found himself on the barge.

"Odd told me he wants to help you." She isn't sure how Odd could, or what help Horseriver would take, but intent matters a lot to her. Odd's intentions seem good.

He half-shrugs. Intent doesn't mean much to him, even in the negative, but he's grudgingly decided to give Odd a chance, not that he has any interest in sharing that decision with his warden. "He has some experience with ghosts, even if little experience with much else."

Annie's mouth quirks in a smile that is tiny but somehow very proud. "I guess I'll give him a chance if you can."

She already likes Odd. She was already giving him a chance, with her own potential friendship. When it comes to her friends' well-being, to Horseriver's, she's far more careful and it's the only thing that can get her to bite down and tear someone open if they disappoint her.

"Do you do Thanksgiving? It's probably not a thing you did in your world. It's probably an American thing, actually."

Horseriver lets the 'give him a chance' comment go by unremarked on. It's true, even if he would stubbornly point out all the ways it's provisional.

"It is not a holy day I have heard tell of. An autumn festival of some sort?" The time of year, the name, he's good at putting information together to form a picture of some sort - when he tries.

"Kind of? Like two hundred years ago, the pilgrims--who were religious guys running from the Pope--landed in America and made friends with the Indians, who were the guys living in America already growing corn and stuff. The pilgrims were pretty dumb and they almost starved to death so the Indians gave them some food and we celebrate that. Being saved. Anyway, the reason for the holiday doesn't matter. The thing you should know is, giant turkey and a buffet table of pies. And surfing."

She waggles her eyebrows at him. "Eh? Wanna eat pie with me on Thanksgiving? It's not for a couple of weeks."

He understands most of the words she's using and the story itself makes a sort of sense, he considers a moment but he's not actually interested in understanding the religion or people of a different world so he puts that aside. It still sounds like a traditional enough autumn festival to him, the food changing with the weather as they give thanks, even if it's to people, not gods. He's not big on giving thanks. Still.

"If there are pies to be eaten, I have no objection to sharing a table with you."

"What kind do you like?" She asks, a little bewildered that he knows what a pie even is. So far as she can tell, their worlds are not alike. At all. But if there's some random fruit in his world that he likes in his pie, well, she can try to get it for him.

He shrugs, he doesn't have much interest in the taste of food. "Pork or beef or whatever meat they have here, food is as it is."

"Uh... I'll surprise you," she decides, trying to imagine pork pie and coming up only with images of England. So not fit for a Thanksgiving Day spread. "Should I invite anyone? Jedao should come."

"He is good company. Invite any who you might like, the tables are long enough." A little wry, but he doesn't really care. He likes Annie enough to at least take a small part in the holiday but he would never claim to offer much in the way of celebratory company.

She knows how ambivalent he is toward...well. Everything. But his answer still makes her smile, not her usual grin but something that's mostly in her eyes, and she rests her chin on his knee.

"If I invite someone you don't like, you can tell me. I'll disinvite them. But I'm probably inviting Bill, and we both like him. He scares the fuck out of me, though."

He pats her hair.

"He's a demon, it would be foolish not to be afraid. He is better company than some." Demons are demons, Horseriver is more ready to like them than he is most people.

"If he tries something on me again, would you help me?" She doesn't expect a 'yes', or a 'no'. She just likes to know who she can call when she's cornered.

"What did he try before?"

"He got his full powers back once. He turned on me. On everyone." Her expression is distant, a little stormy. "I try to just pal around with him like I did before that, but he's- well, like you said. A demon."

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hollow_king - 2017-11-18 17:00 (UTC) - Expand