A Family Affair (Mythklok, Chapter 28)
Title: A Family Affair (Mythklok, Chapter 28)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Teen goddess hijinks, slow dancing, and a band meeting gets too gay
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, annoying Cherubim
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
A general FYI: going forward, I'm no longer going to post links to the Mythklok Interstitial bits over on CLDK, just links to the proper chapters.
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
A quick recap of recent goings on: Charles returned work (evidently an occasional threesome is good for the respiratory system, although it might mess up your eye color - who knew?), and immediately stepped into hot molten lava (quite literally, as Nathan’s room is filled with it - the Dethklok singer pissed off a volcano goddess). Oh, and there’s angels down below.
A Family Affair (Mythklok, Chapter 28)
"All right. All right. What's going on down here?"
Charles had marched right into the middle an angry mob of angels. They were gathered in the courtyard outside Mordhaus, some of them waving swords, all of them in their rude winged form.
"WE DEMAND TO SPEAK TO LORD SARIEL!" said a nearby, full-throated one, who waved his sword for emphasis. He was a rare brindle-colored angel, which gave his wings a bit of the unfortunate appearance that he was molting.
"I'm Sariel."
"Wait, you're Sariel?" The brindle angle squinted at him. "Aren't you a little short for a Seraph?"
"I'm not a Seraph."
"Oh. Well. Anyway. WE ARE HERE TO OFFER YOU OUR PROTECTION."
"From what? You?"
"Well, that would be the implication," the Brindle sniffed, as if Charles were slightly stupid. "WE ARE A TERRIBLE MOB OF ANGELS," he shouted, emphasizing it by waving his sword.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, give me that," Charles told him impatiently, snatching away the sword and burying the point in the ground.
"Hey, that was mine," Brindle muttered.
"If you don't recognize me, do you at least recognize her?" Charles shouted to them, gesturing behind him. "That's Lady Raziel. Of the Seraphim. The one who took off Uriah's head?"
Raziel scowled menacingly, and the angels edged away from her.
"Now, what I want, and Lady Raziel wants, is for everybody to calm the fuck down and go to Court Form so we can discuss this."
“Bunch of Cherubim,” Raziel whispered to Pickles. “Annoying.”
"I t'ought Cherubs was da little fat baby dudes," Pickles whispered back.
"Aw, you're thinking of Putties. They're even more annoying," Raziel told him.
“Wait. Putties? Dey ain’t da Power Rangers doods?”
“What’s a Power Ranger?”
“PICKLE!” Toki had just emerged from Mordhaus, looking rather frantic.
“What da feck is da matter, dood?” Pickles asked. Toki grabbed Pickles and whispered in his ear, and they both took off running back inside.
Raziel arched an eyebrow and turned her attentions back to where Sariel was arguing with the Cherubim, who were now all obediently Court Formed. “We’re afraid to go back now,” the scruffy-looking Brindle was confessing.
“You’re afraid of Seraphim? And you want jobs in security?” Sariel asked them. Stupid, stupid Cherubs. “All right. All right. What did you guys actually do up there?” he asked, pointing upwards with the Brindle's sword.
“We worked in Accounts Receivable,” a plump blond one supplied.
“You’re accountants?” There were embarrassed nods. “Well, shit, we need accountants! Look, I’ll call down some of my HR people and we’ll talk to you, OK?” There were more nods, and before long, Sariel had a couple of his strange hoodie people down to talk to the annoying Cherubim.
“You’re not really going to hire a bunch of Cherubim?” Raziel asked Sariel as he made for the door.
“Why the hell not?”
“They’re annoying!”
“Yeah, but they’re great at doing boring crap, they work cheap, and when they fall off the edge, they don’t tend to die, like my last batch of accountants.” He was still holding Brindle’s sword.
“Boy, what a crap sword,” Raziel commented. “You better have Jean-Pierre prepare some sheet cakes. Those Cherubim love their sheet cakes.”
Sariel feinted with the terrible blade. It really was a piece of crap. “Do you think Wotan needs anybody? To do boring stuff.”
“Maybe. I could send a raven.”
“Where the heck is he? He’s never in cell contact.”
“Something he’s been working on. I’ll tell you in a while, OK?”
“Oh.” Sariel suddenly stopped messing with the sword and looked at Raziel.
“I need to head back,” she said, fiddling with the knot on his tie. “Anything I can pick you up in Milan?"
“No more of your Italian fucking suits,” he said, waving the sword. “I just wanna go back to my old clothes.”
“So? Gain some weight. Otherwise, you’re stuck with my couture.”
“Raziel! I’m not your fucking dress up fucking doll!”
“Aw, c’mon, it’s seven fucking months ‘till the babies come and I get to attire them in adorable little outfits.”
“Shouldn’t you go and get…." He pointed at her with the sword. "I dunno, what the fuck women get to wear when they’re pregnant.”
“Maternity. Yeah. But I’ve been barfing so much I’ve actually lost weight. Sort of annoying.”
"You now wanna get fat?"
"Wotan thinks pregnant women are sexy."
"I didn't need to know that!" But she was already gone. "I didn't need to know that," he instead grumbled to himself, twirling the sword. "I would pay somebody to take that knowledge out of my brain." He was still mindlessly swinging the Cherub's worthless blade around when he opened the door to his office and heard the gasp. Isis and Nephthys were sitting there, gripping each other, evidently in terror at the sword-bearing avenging angel. Toki stood over them scowling.
Charles hastily tossed the sword on his desk and tried to shrink back unassuming manager mode. "Uh, sorry. What's up?"
“Isis and Nephthys ams has somethings to tells you,” Toki told him, crossing his arms and staring hard down at the twin goddesses. As was their custom, Nephthys was clad all in an outlandishly frilly black outfit, and Isis in equally frilly but candy-colored garb. Isis usually seemed the sunny tempered one, but today both girls looked quite sheepish.
"Charles ams be very mads at yous," Toki warned them, wagging a stern finger.
"Toki!" Charles held up a warning hand. "Let's hear what they have to say, OK?" Toki seemed slightly chastened. Charles wondered why he was acting more like a stern father than their boyfriend. He decided he didn't want to know. “All right," he said, trying very hard to keep his voice soft, "Wanna tell me what happened?”
“Well, we were babysitting Aaron….” Isis began.
“Wait! OK, Toki?" He turned to the guitarist in shock. "You know about Aaron?”
“Skwisgaar ams tells me!” Toki told him.
“OK. But. You know we’re not supposed to tell anybody. Anybody! It’s supposed to be a secret. Right?"
“He ams not tells anybodies! Only me!” Toki protested.
“OK. OK. All right." Only Toki. And the twins. And, what, their entire high school? Did goddesses go to high school? "So, go on, girls.”
“So, uh, we were using our powers of life and death,” Nephthys said.
“And Aaron wanted to see,” Isis continued.
“HI SARIEL!” It was Aaron, at the door with Pickles.
Not Aaron's ghost.
Aaron.
“Holy shit,” said Charles.
Ganesh was wrapping his stethoscope around his neck as they watched Isis and Nephthys lead Aaron out of Pickles’ room. “Returned from the afterlife,” he mused. “Seems to be a growing trend. Now, what did the goddesses say happened again?”
“Isis used her powers of life on him,” Charles told him, closing the door behind the goddesses.
“And then Nephthys was scared to use her power of death because she didn’t wanna kill him. Again."
“Well, that would do it I suppose,” Ganesh grinned.
“So the boy-“ Charles began.
“Seems to be a normal, healthy boy. Interestingly, his body bears none of the signs of prenatal magic abuse.”
"But, they're not even from the same fucking pantheon! I don't understand it."
Ganesh shrugged. "New World gods, I don't really know."
“Cool!” said Pickles, who had been sitting cross-legged on his bed, intently attending to every word. “Den he can jist stay here wit’ us!”
“No, Pickles,” Charles warned.
“Whaddya mean, no?”
“Everything else aside, do you have ANY IDEA what the current mortality rate is for persons living at Mordhaus?”
“But I’m his guardian spirit dood!” the drummer protested.
“Pickles, we need to inform Spider Grandma about this. He may need to go back with the Hopi. They’re his people.”
“But he may be in danger from da angel doods out dere!”
“Pickles, we all understand and appreciate that you’ve been a faithful guardian to Aaron….”
“But, what? Yer takin’ him away now he’s real again?”
“Pickles, he is a child.” And I am now the meanest man in the universe, Charles thought sadly.
“We would have a place for him I think up in the Imperial City,” Ganesh supplied.
“Huh?” Charles asked.
Ganesh smiled. “I should point out; my mother has a bit of experience raising boys. And would probably be grateful for the diversion. And that way Pickles could come up to visit any time he fancied.”
“Yeh!” Pickles pleaded. “We could do dat! We could do dat! He’ll go wit’ Parvati! Right?”
Charles held his forehead. “All right. All right. All right. With the understanding that this is TEMPORARY until we hear from the Hopi!” Ganesh smiled and pulled out his cell phone.
They walked back to his office, where Aaron sat contentedly between Isis and Nephthys, poking at somebody's Gameboy. Ganesh crouched down to talk. “Would you care to come up and stay with my family for a short time, Aaron?” he asked.
“Do you have an airship?” Aaron asked.
“Sadly no. We are very boring. We have only elephants. And tigers. And monkeys.”
“Don’t say that too loud, or Nathan will want to come live with you too,” Charles whispered to him.
Then, Pickles and Ganesh each taking a hand, Aaron walked a few steps and disappeared.
Charles sat down at his desk in front of Isis and Nephthys again. They both blinked at him. He realized they were ancient, but really, they looked like teenagers. He suddenly wondered where the hell Toki had run off to. He decided he was probably expected to say something. “So, uh, I guess this is a lesson to be careful with your powers of life and death,” he said lamely.
The twins nodded as if this were the wisdom of the ages.
“OK, well,” he started, hoping the hint would hasten the hasty removal of underaged gods from his office.
The twins looked at each other, and broke in to shy giggles.
“Uh, yes?” he asked, trying not to sound exasperated.
“Could we see your eyes?” Nephthys pleaded.
He let out a quiet sigh, and tipped his tinted glasses down to better display his heterochromia. The girls cooed.
“How did you DO that?” Isis asked.
I had a threesome that I can’t remember. “The magic, uh, that puts me back to Court Form…. It didn't work right, for some reason.”
“Oh,” said Isis, a little disappointed.
“So,” said Nephthys, “sometimes your spells don’t work?”
“Yes, sometimes my magic doesn’t work as it’s supposed to. That’s why we should always be careful.” Didn’t their folks tell them this stuff? He decided to broach the subject. “I’m sure your parents have talked about this?”
The girls looked at each other. For the first time, he wondered if Isis was using magic to get her hair that funny mint green color. A really good way to end up bald, he thought.
“Our parents are sort of busy. You know,” Isis began.
“No, I don’t know.”
“They’re earth and sky,” Nephthys said.
"And, you know...." Isis maddeningly tailed off again.
He must have look puzzled, because Nephthys suddenly leaned forward and whispered, "They're always having S-E-X."
He crossed his arms in what he desperately hoped was an authoritative manner and nodded. Oh, trust a pair of fertility gods. "OK, well, in the future, if something like this comes up, realize that you can come talk to me." He cringed internally, praying that he would never again see either one in his office.
"Uh, was that Lord Ganesh?" Isis suddenly asked.
"Yes, that was Lord Ganesh."
There was the leaning forward again. "Is it true he CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD for you?" Nephthys asked.
Is this conversation ever going to end? "Lord Ganesh was unfortunately murdered. But after visiting his afterlife, he has been returned to us."
The girls giggled again. "That's so romantic," Nephthys sighed.
"Uh. Yeah."
He was opening the office door to at last shoo out the apparently smitten goddesses when he was nearly clobbered by Skwisgaar's Gibson.
"So, you ams gots da times to talks wit’ someone dat ams in da bands?" Skwisgaar demanded, pushing by Charles, planting himself in a chair, and swinging his feet up onto the desk.
"Of course. Uh, make yourself at home."
"I am quitsing da bands. I ams openings da magical detective agencies. And den I ams takes da cases wit da dames wit’ da greats gams."
"You're.... Uh.... OK. Let me get this straight." He sat down in his own chair with a sigh. "You're the guitarist in the most popular rock band on earth, but you want to be a hardboiled detective?"
"Ja, I ams boiled hard!"
"And, why is this? You're not happy in the band anymore?"
"I ams doings my best work! I ams has never played so many millions billions notes! And Nathan's ams just deletes every things. Pfft!"
"Well, uh, isn’t that what he does? Every time?"
"Ja! But dis time, ams because we sounds like crap!"
"Oh. So, you’re playing well, but the recording isn't going well?"
"No."
"And, uh, why do you think it isn't going well?"
"Because Pickles ams not deres."
"Oh."
"He ams walks in wit’ da magical shits and plays da drums rolls, rumbity-rum,” Skwisgaar said, miming the drum on his Gibson, “and den hims ams leaves! It ams nots like it was before."
"OK. OK. Pickles has other.... That's been partly my fault. That's actually been a lot my fault. I've been fucking up lately."
"Ja dat's true. You wants me to ams talks outs of quitsing too?"
"Huh?"
"OK, dudes, but we ams do me first because I ams asks first."
"Well, OK, honestly? I think it would be best if Pickles hears this from you guys. Why don't you and Nathan...."
“But if we ams asks, it ams gets too gays for Nat’ans. Dat ams why he ams not heres asking. You ams knows dat guy.”
“Well, look, I think Pickles was feeling a little left out by your guys from the beginning when Nathan decided to use Yannemango percussion.”
“Pffft. Feelingses.”
“Yeah, but…. OK, OK, here’s what you do. The angels don’t want you guys to finish this album. Did you know that?"
“Reallies? Dan angelses ams assholes. No offenses.”
“None taken.”
“Hmpf. Maybe we ams tells Pickles dat. OK. Now you!”
“Now me what?”
“You ams tells me you ams gonna quits and I ams talks you out of it.”
“Uh, OK. Well. I guess I feel I’ve been-“
“PFFFT!”
“Well. Yeah. Thanks, Skwisgaar, that’s very persuasive….”
“You ams blowed up da guys dat ams killed da Gannishes,” said Skwisgaar, emphasizing it all with a chord, “and den Gannishes ams comes backs, and we ams makingsing da brutal albums (whens Nat’ans stops deletsing its), and now you ams wears da nice suits so you don’t look like da dumbs douche bags. No offense.”
“Uh….”
“So, you ams gots no reasons to quitses! See, I ams persusacious!”
“Yeah. Thanks, Skwisgaar. Maybe you could get a second job as a motivational speaker," he said as the guitarist sashayed out of his office. He picked up the Cherubic accontant's sword, which was still on his desk. Annoyed, he frowned at it. The blade heated to red hot. It was just going orange when it completely melted away with a fizzle.
"What a piece of crap," he muttered, throwing the still smoking hilt on his desk.
Charles stood before the full length mirror in his room and despaired. He had finally found the time between crises to duck into his room and don an old suit. This had made him happy for all of 15 seconds, before the pants slipped down around his ankles, due to a lack of anything to impede them on their journey.
"Ferget somethin', dood?" Pickles seemed damnably cheerful about it. Charles wasn't exactly certain whether he had missed Pickles coming in through the doorway, or whether the drummer had just appeared on his bed. Either one was a possibility.
"Pickles, I no longer even give a shit where we go on this goddamned spirit Walk, just get me out of fucking Mordhaus," he grumbled, irritably kicking away the clown pants and grabbing on the horrible Caraceni ones.
"Yoo OK dood?"
"Cherubs and teenagers? On the same motherfucking day? Someone obviously wants to kill me."
"Yoo mean Isis an' Nephthys, dood? I t'ought dey wuz immortal gods like?"
"Some gods.... It's hard to explain. But they never quite seem to reach adulthood."
"Yoo get t' be young ferever? Not a bad gig."
"Uh-huh. So you really liked being a teenager?"
"Aw, feck no, it totally sucked."
"Yeah. To have it suck for eternity.”
“Heh. Like dose immortal vampire doods who are still in high school?”
“Oh, god, Pickles, don’t tell me you read that crap?”
“All da groupies are into dat sparkly vampire shit! Yoo should come hang wit’ us an’ see.”
“Yeah. Uh. Ganesh-“
“Can come too!”
“He’s, uh, he’s not really into women.”
Pickles howled with laughter. “Yoo’d be surprised what dat dood is into when he’s got a few in ‘im!”
“Pickles… Pickles. Pickles, please don’t kill my boyfriend, OK? I just got him back.” Charles sat down moodily on the edge of his bed. How long had it been since he had actually slept in his own room? He couldn’t remember. He hadn't been able to sleep, for such a long time.
He turned to look at Pickles. “I never really said thank you, to you, did I?"
“Nah. Yoo can be kind of a douche.”
“Yeah. Uh. So. Did you guys get Aaron situated?"
"Yeah. I t'ink Parvati's got dat whole knittin' circle deal now making him socks or some shit. Anyway. Yoo ready to go?” Charles nodded, and Pickles grabbed his elbow. It was strange. Charles was so used to getting yanked around by the collar by Raziel, but he could barely feel it when they broke through the thin tissue of reality to Pickles’ Dreamspace.
“What the fuck is this?” They were suddenly on the deck of the most amazing airship.
“Dis is my gold zeppelin.”
“Because you want to go one better?” Pickles didn’t answer, but simply grinned. He steered Charles off the deck, and into one of the corridors. Charles soon noticed that the mellow buzz that seemed to pervade the ship had faded. There was something foreboding down here.
“OK, dood, now, yoo remember, dis all happens pretty fast, and if it’s like usual, we’ll get kicked out pretty soon. I could go back wit’ yoo if yoo wannaseeit again but I usually don’t feel like it. Fer a while.”
Charles nodded, and they opened the door.
He froze.
“RAZIEL! NO!”
Pickles’ arms were around him, restraining him. “I tol’ yoo, it ain’t Raziel,” he whispered.
Then the Creator was upon her.
And then they were outside on the deck once again.
“I need to…. I’ve got to….” He looked at Pickles. “I’m going to….” And then he was gone. And Pickles was standing on the deck of his airship, all alone.
“Raziel.”
“Oh hey.” Raziel was sitting on the back porch at Valhalla, various animals nosing around her feet. She was squinting into an iPad, and didn’t bother to look up. “We’ve got the weirdest case at the Council at Ithavoll this month….”
And then she looked up at him.
“OK. C’mon,” she said, going inside.
He was sitting at Raziel and Wotan’s cluttered kitchen table, a plate of half-eaten sandwiches in front of him. He also had some beer left in a glass.
Raziel looked up from the newspaper she was leafing through and eyed him. She took a sip of tea. At some point, she had explained that it was Parvati’s brew, “The only thing that doesn’t make me rolf.”
She regarded him for a moment. She reached over and picked up his plate of sandwiches, as if she were weighing it in her hand. “Well, Ganesh will approve.” She put down the plate. “You ready to tell me about it?”
“I went on the Walk with Pickles.”
“Yeah, I gathered that.”
“Whoever it was, whatever it was, it does look like you.”
“OK. Did she speak Angelic?”
“Yeah, High Angelic.”
"Female Seraph?"
"I guess. Would you know her?"
"They were all gone before my time. I could try to find out if any of them are still around. What did she say?"
“It wasn't very much. She tells him, 'Please, I swear, she is yours.' And then He says, 'She will be mine and none other.'"
"Huh."
"And.... He doesn't just kill her. He extinguishes her. So her spirit is gone too."
"Wow." She was poking her spoon into her tea cup. "So. I heard about Aaron."
"Do you know the twins well?" he asked, grateful for a change in topic.
"Not really. They're pretty recent at the Stitch n Bitch."
"They dress like something out of the Eighteenth century."
Raziel laughed. "Yeah, that's actually super trendy now."
"What? Really? No!”
“They’re Lolitas!”
“You mean like in that book? Do they look for old guys to…?”
“No! They just wear the old-fashioned clothes.”
“Why? Why would they wanna wear all that underwear when you don’t have to!”
"I know you're not a fan of that era."
"You know how long it takes to open a goddam bodice?" he fumed. "Sometimes, you just wanna see tits." He suddenly looked up, horrified. "Uh. Not that I'd like to see their tits. Or, uh, have seen anything like that."
Raziel looked up, slyly. "Those girls - do you think they’ve ever...?"
"No! I was just gonna say that.” He leaned over to whisper to her. “They wouldn't even say the word sex! They had to spell it!"
"Fertility god parents. That'll do it."
"So what the hell do you think Toki...?"
"I haven't really figured it out. It seems like the girls in the Stitch n Bitch he's been dating are all just his friends. I mean, some of them are virgin goddesses, like the twins, and I know some of them don’t even care for men.”
“I keep feeling like…. Lately…. Like I’m straying into territory where I don’t wanna know.”
“Maybe you don’t,” she shrugged.
“Yeah, but I'm supposed to know everything with those guys! It's my goddam job!"
“Hey sweetie!”
The door banged shut behind Wotan. “Sariel! Are ye stayin’ for dinner? We could have cook whip up a couple steaks!”
“Raziel just fed me thanks,” he said, indicating the plate. “I should be getting back in a bit anyway.”
“You’ll stay for a drink? I suppose Ganesh would have my head if I offered you a Cuban.”
“Maybe better wait on the cigar. And I already feel a bit woozy from the beer.”
“Aw, you can always stand a touch of Scotch. 150 years old, this one!” And so Sariel found himself on an overstuffed couch in one of Valhalla’s comfortable sitting rooms, wolf at his feet, and a glass of very old whiskey sitting temptingly in front of him.
“I’m sort of a lightweight these days, Wotan, so only one, right?”
“I need to broach something with you. A bit of a delicate matter, this.”
“Yeah?” He sipped at the Scotch. Wotan was right, it was incredible. He felt himself getting drunk from the fumes. Drunker, that is.
“You know what’s been going on….?” As they had all taken to doing, he pointed upwards instead of saying anything.
Sariel nodded.
“Well, as it happens, not everyone is pleased, or completely pleased by current events. And I’ve managed to maneuver one of the interested parties into a series of … meetings.”
To his horror, Sariel nearly spat a mouthful of the incredibly fine whiskey onto one of Wotan’s curious wolves. Instead, he swallowed, burning a path down his throat. “What?”
“Took a bit of doing, as you can imagine. It would be useful to have others at the table. However, I’m a bit chary about the Eastern Kingdom’s reaction.”
“Ganesh will fucking lose his shit.”
“Um. Something like that. Can you help him, maybe, retain his shit?”
“I can try. But Wotan, you only have to walk in the Imperial City. He wants angel heads. I want angel heads. I mean, besides what was done to him.”
“Regardless, the boy is a leader now, he’ll need to keep personal feelings in check.”
“Like I said, I’ll do what I can. What little I can.”
“I wouldn’t be so skeptical about your influence. You did manage to drag him back from the afterlife. Ain’t an easy trick. I don’t think you know Brahma, but he’s quite a character.”
“Wotan,” Sariel began, watching the god refill his glass which, oddly, was now empty. “Wotan. I’ve been fucking up.”
‘How’s that?”
“I have one job. One duty. To oversee my fucking band.”
“Heh. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call that only one job.”
“And I can’t seem to do that anymore. I mean, you saw me. I couldn’t even convince Toki not to go run off to war with the angels.”
“The boy is an adult. Not one with the best judgment, but if he wants to be an idiot, it is his right.”
“Dammit, Wotan, I used to be able to at least trick them out of being assholes.”
“Granted.” Wotan suddenly grinned and put a thumb into his Scotch glass. He leaned over and dabbed it on Sariel’s forehead. “There ye go! Forgiven!”
“What the fuck!”
“What the fuck? That’s the world’s finest single malt!”
“You can’t do that!”
“Why the hell not?”
“Wotan, there’s some things we’re not supposed to fuck up.”
“And who says? If not us?”
“I dunno.”
“As my son would say, ‘Pfft!’”
“Oh good Christ, don’t go quoting Skwisgaar’s collected wisdom now!”
“Or as I’d tell one of my sons, you fall off a horse….”
“You get back up, yeah.”
“After you get your arm out of the cast, you get back on,” Wotan laughed.
"Yeah. I think my arm's still in a cast. I think my whole fucking body is in traction."
"Well, it probably doesn't help to have Ganesh fussing over you like a goddam nanny. A bit overprotective, that boy.”
“Look! I just don’t wanna fuck up anything important.”
“OK. Then, don’t.”
“THOSE are your words of wisdom? You give worse advice than fucking Skwisgaar."
Wotan leaned back and grinned. “Like father, like son. Good Scotch, huh? Care for a cigar?"
Pickles wandered back from the Dreamtime into his empty room. Ditched by Charles. Well, it wasn't the first time. And now even Dreamtime was empty, with Aaron up at Parvati's place. Ganesh had said he should come up any time, but he felt a little weird about it, and they were probably gonna ship the kid back to the US anyway. He should have felt happy. It was a fucking miracle. But, he just sort of felt crappy and left out.
Oh, and speaking of left out, now he had to talk to the assholes in his band who had all ditched him to fly to the fucking Amazon and have some idiot fourth cousins of Nathan’s play the drum tracks. Motherdouchers.
He was further irritated to find only Nathan and Skwisgaar had bothered to show up to the meeting, even when he had deliberately come in late. He threw himself into chair and immediately determined to take everything out on the two band members seated opposite.
"Where da feck is everybody?" he grumbled.
"It ams onlies us," Skwisgaar told him as he obliviously fingered runs on his guitar.
"Charles didn' even bother t' feckin' show up?"
"He asked us to say this so we're just going to say this and then we can get out of here," Nathan babbled. "So, WE NEED YOU IN BRAZIL. Because the record sort of sucks and stuff and also the angels don’t like it. Blah blah blah. Anyway, hey, let's all get out of here now."
Pickles sat forward. "Feck. Yoo."
"Uhhhhhhh," Nathan started. "So, that means we're OK and you're coming to record with us and we can STOP FUCKING TALKING before this all get too gay?"
"Feck. Yoo. It means, feck. Yoo."
"SKWISGAAR THIS IS GETTING TOO FUCKING GAY! Can we just like call Charles in and make him deal with this stuff, or is he out buying a new suit or some shit."
"Nat'an, will yoo quit sayin' it's gettin' too gay?"
"But, dude, it's getting way too gay!"
"It irritates da feck outta me!"
"Pickles, dude, I'm sorry, but this really is getting too gay now!"
"Yoo want gay! I'll show yoo my feckin' dick! Is dat gay enough?"
"Ewwwwwww! Pickles, nobody wants to see that," a horrified Nathan told him.
"Except maybe dat Gannish dude ams wants to see," Skwisgaar laughed.
"Eh, he's seen it," Pickles told him.
"He ams not!" Skwisgaar said.
Pickles motioned the guitarist to lean over. "Nat'ans, ams covers you ears, dudes!" the guitarist motioned.
"Da other night, dood," Pickles whispered.
"Naw!" protested Skwisgaar, who seemed to be playing faster. "He ams cheatsings on Charle? Dat ams not cools."
"No, dood, da t'ree of us."
"No ways!"
"NO FUCKING WAY!" boomed Nathan.
"Nat'ans!" Skwisgaar scolded. "You ams coveringses da earses!"
"It fecked up his eye," Pickles supplied, grinning and pointing to his own left eye.
"Oh, dat is how dat ams happens!" said Skwisgaar.
"CHARLES WOULDN'T DO THAT!" Nathan thundered.
"Uh-huh. And why not, dood?" Pickles asked.
"Uhhhhhhh...."
"Pffft. Gannish ams da sexy guy. I ams do hims myself, but I must saves it for da lovelies ladies. I ams just putsing dat out dere.”
"Uh, so Ganesh dude," Nathan began, "Does he like do it with his elephant head thing on?"
"Naw," said Pickles.
"Oh," said Nathan, sounding oddly disappointed.
"All his elephant heads got smashed," Pickles supplied.
"Ohhhhhh, yeah," Nathan said.
"But, uh," Pickles motioned them both lean forward. "Charles? I t'ink he was, like, da angel!"
"NOOOOO!" bellowed Nathan.
"You ams not rememberskings?" Skwisgaar asked.
Pickles shook his head.
"Pfft. I ams woulds do hims as da angels," Skwisgaar commented. "I ams kissed him once."
"Really dood?" Pickles asked.
"Ja. When hims ams da angels."
"No way," said Pickles.
"But I must ams saves my lovingses for so manies ladies."
"Yeh. Da ladies," mused Pickles.
"I kissed him once," Nathan supplied.
Skwisgaar stopped playing his guitar.
Pickles and Skwisgaar stared at Nathan.
Nathan looked back at them. “But NO TONGUE!” he insisted.
"Dood," muttered Pickles.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Uhhhhh. You dudes ams want to goes to a strips bar?" Skwisgaar inquired.
"Yeah, dood, totally,” agreed Pickles.
"Sure," said Nathan.
And with that, the three musicians rose and departed the meeting room.
He should meditate, Shri Ganesha, Lord of Hosts, and Acting Lord of Destruction, thought to himself.
Naw, fuck that. He had just spent an entire month in quiet meditation, and, to be honest, was a bit fed up with all that inner peace crap.
He could read, he thought. He grabbed his iPad in one of his many hands and thumbed through all the electronic books he had thoughtfully downloaded. He had spent many a pleasant hour of late reading while Sariel lay sleeping in the next room. Of course, he no longer lay there. Lord Ganesh knew this, as he had personally tied Sariel's tie in a fine Windsor knot (before Lady Raziel annoyingly retied it into a four in hand) and sent him back to work today.
Since that time, Lord Ganesh, once he had rushed off to work himself, had endured a chaotic and stressful day. He had spent his only idle hour rushing down to Mordhaus to check up on the shaman boy, and then escorting him back and getting him comfortable and situated at his mother's palace. And then it was back to a round of meetings and dealing with angry and disheartened people still suffering in the ruined Imperial City.
Then he had returned in the evening here, to his quiet and serene residence with its still reflecting pools and hushed servants.
And he fucking hated it.
This was ridiculous. Lord of Destruction wasn't able to enjoy a single evening's worth of solitude? Ridiculous!
He thumped down on the couch and plucked a DVD from the pile. He should watch a movie. That would be a fine solitary activity. Sariel's presence would only irritate him. He would sit just more than an arm's reach apart on the couch and curse at the remote controls and talk over all the jokes.
He frowned.
He dug his cell phone out of his pocket.
The door thumped.
"You wouldn't FUCKING BELIEVE what happened today...." Sariel was saying. He was awkwardly carrying a stack of what looked like DVD boxes, and trampling in bits of mud from the gardens at Mordhaus into the carpets, because he never bothered to wipe his feet and couldn't be trained to remove his shoes in the house. "Oh, should I have called first?"
Ganesh realized he was gawping. "Oh. NO! No, of course not."
Sariel dumped the stack of DVD boxes all over the coffee table and sat, swinging his muddy feet beside them. "I dunno what the fuck is up with my Netflix. All this stuff musta come in when I was sick. But it's all weird romantic comedies and girlie crap. What the fuck do I care about Katherine fucking Heigl?"
Ganesh remembered the disk in his own hand. "I was just going to put in, er, a DVD?"
"Bringing Up Baby? This is a classic! You've seen it, right? No! Then we gotta watch!" Sariel cursed at one and then another remote control when they failed to function, as they controlled the stereo system and the satellite system and not the BluRay player. Ganesh picked up the correct remote and started the film.
"See? See?" Sariel was raving at the screen. "Why does anybody even bother to wear a tuxedo? They should have retired that style after Cary Grant died."
"You were going to tell me what happened today?"
"Oh my god FUCKING ANGELS!"
"Indeed," smiled Lord Ganesh. "Were they perchance down in your garden?" he asked, eying Sariel's muddy feet. He slid closer to Sariel and put an arm over the the back of the couch behind him.
"Oh, yeah, fucking A," Sariel grumbled. He espied Ganesh's arm and pulled it over his shoulders, leaning back. "Fucking angels. Hey, you know who would wear that outfit?” he asked, jutting out an arm at the screen.
"Raziel," Ganesh laughed, as Sariel seized his cell phone.
And so it happened, before the DVD had quite completed, that Lord Ganesh's media room somehow had come to contain not only Lady Raziel, but also Lord Wotan, who had to be sternly urged not to offer his cigars to Sariel; and furthermore, Ganesh's mother, whom came accompanying Aaron, which meant that Pickles had appeared as well. Lord Wotan then proceeded to book seemingly every weekend and vacation for the remainder of Aaron’s life with this or that hunting or fishing expedition. And, somehow, though Lord Ganesh was not certain of the connection, Toki Wartooth as well as Isis and Nephthys had also come to occupy his floor in front of the TV, dropping popcorn on his tidy floors, and then also Nathan, Skwisgaar and Murderface of Dethklok, plus their record producer, Dick Knubbler, all of whom spent a brief time arguing over something called a lava fountain instead of watching, followed by a long debate regarding the strip club to which they would retire on their next stop this evening.
It was all rather splendid. Sariel even suffered Ganesh’s arm over his shoulders, although there was much wriggling from him as he continued to maliciously place his feet in a protesting Raziel’s lap. On the other hand, Lord Ganesh hadn’t known that Sariel’s feet were quite so ticklish prior to this evening. This was useful information to have.
Sariel was much relieved to see the last of Isis and Nephthys, who had been pretty much ignoring Toki this night and instead, had spent much time swooning in his own general direction. He sighed. They had all five members of Dethklok here to drool over! What the fuck!
But the crowd had finally departed, leaving only trampled in popcorn, and he and Lord Ganesh remained, sprawled on the couch.
“Have you been smoking?” Ganesh asked, sniffing at Sariel’s brand new jacket.
“It was only…. It was only half a cigar. I didn’t wanna offend Wotan!”
Ganesh sighed. “I should like to talk something over with you, jaanu.”
“No, I do not know what is up with the goddam twins, though I wish they would go away,” Sariel fumed.
“Ha! Puppy love. It’s harmless, I should think.”
“They have the power of life and death!”
“They’re girls. They will be on to something new in a week or so. Just see.”
“Hmpf.”
“I had been considering something. Since Aaron is to be living with my mother for the near future, I thought to offer Pickles a room here, as I do not think my mother’s residence is, er, appropriate for some of his activities.”
“Pickles? Up here with you?”
“Up here with us, yes.”
“Uh. You realize then that what happened the other night … is likely to happen again?”
“I had rather hoped it would happen again, actually.”
"Ganesh…. OK. All right…. Uh….”
Ganesh smiled and kissed Sariel on his head. "I came back from the dead for you, jaanu. If you should like to continue this, then we shall. Else if you would like Pickles cast onto a lake of eternal fire, we shall do that. I am head of the religion, so I should wish to work on my vengeance."
"What?"
"It was a joke. I am not going to cast Pickles into a lake of fire." Ganesh grinned and pushed his hair out of his face. It all fell right back.
"They didn't fix that?" Sariel asked.
"Sorry?"
"The hair thing. It still falls in your face."
"No, they didn't fix 'the hair thing.' Though I have found, to my sorrow, that I am now left handed. It has caused me great woes in maintaining my sword fighting techniques. I am certain this must have been a source of great amusement on Great Brahma's part! Such an asshole.”
“But, Pickles….”
“As I have said, I would like to leave this up to you. The man obviously holds a great deal of affection towards you, and arguably saved you from death when you were mourning my passing. For this alone he has earned my gratitude. I am unable to interpret why you continue to spurn him, although I suspect it may connect to the fact that he was unlucky enough to be incarnated as a human.”
"You're not jealous?"
"Why should I have that emotion?"
"OK, look, there is something we need to fucking straighten out. When I saw Eototo-"
He had only gotten as far as the Kachina's name before Ganesh's entire demeanor had changed. He looked as if he might set something on fire with his mind.
"Ganesh!” Sariel asked, sitting up. “You can't just fucking glower! I wanna understand this! We've gotta fucking talk! We've got to...." He paused, frustrated. “Wait. Wait. You don't talk, you dance, right? Let me try something.”
He walked over to the stereo and picked up Ganesh's remote control. It had more buttons than a Keith Moon jacket. But after a bit of fumbling, and toggling through some terrible racket and some cringe-worthy trance crap, he found a suitable piece of music.
He walked over to the couch, where Ganesh still sat, seething. "OK, c'mon." Ganesh looked up, puzzled. "We're gonna.... We're gonna dance about this?" He hadn't exactly meant it as a question, but saying it made it seem even weirder.
He pulled Ganesh to his feet. Sure enough, slow dancing seemed to very quickly soothe the god's foul mood.
"Raziel keeps telling me you guys dance, and I have no fucking idea, so you're going to have to bear with me, OK?" He decided to try pushing a thought into Ganesh's mind. "Dance - OK?"
Ganesh blinked, and then happily swung him around.
"That means OK?"
He got the move again. Yes - yes - yes.
"Dizzy."
Ganesh laughed.
"Wait a minute, is this a language?" he muttered. He tried, "Dance - speak?"
Yes.
Great, Sariel thought. The most mind-fuckingly complicated relationship issue of my entire existence, and I can only ask yes-no questions. "Shit! No wonder Raziel can dance with you! Her language thing."
But it seemed a language as elusive as High Angelic. As it turned out, from a few more tries, there was not just yes or no: there were in fact, several different ways of saying yes, and several more of no, and definitely a few maybes. And they seemed to have different shades of meaning, including the notorious "no that actually means yes."
It was all quite interesting, and might have diverted an anthropologist for many happy dissertations. But though Lord Ganesh currently appeared to be having the time of his life, Sariel was growing frustrated.
At length, he sat Ganesh on the couch and knelt down before him, holding Ganesh's hands in his. "Ganesh? Look at me. I need to say is in words, because I don't know what I'm fucking doing yet. Can you listen?" The god smiled serenely at him.
“OK. OK. For what I think is the first time in my entire existence, I am going to make a relationship promise that I can actually keep. Whatever the fuck this is, and I’m still not entirely sure, it’s just the two of us? OK? The dancing thing? Just you and me! No other earth gods, or anyone else. All right? Is that what you need? Can you just … can you just let me know?”
Shri Ganesha looked down.
His dear angel appeared upset.
Well, of course he was upset. He’d stopped dancing. Silly thing.
Lord Ganesh swept him up, back into the dance.
Everything would be all right. He would show him. So much to show him!
Everything would be just fine.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Teen goddess hijinks, slow dancing, and a band meeting gets too gay
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, annoying Cherubim
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
A general FYI: going forward, I'm no longer going to post links to the Mythklok Interstitial bits over on CLDK, just links to the proper chapters.
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
A quick recap of recent goings on: Charles returned work (evidently an occasional threesome is good for the respiratory system, although it might mess up your eye color - who knew?), and immediately stepped into hot molten lava (quite literally, as Nathan’s room is filled with it - the Dethklok singer pissed off a volcano goddess). Oh, and there’s angels down below.
A Family Affair (Mythklok, Chapter 28)
"All right. All right. What's going on down here?"
Charles had marched right into the middle an angry mob of angels. They were gathered in the courtyard outside Mordhaus, some of them waving swords, all of them in their rude winged form.
"WE DEMAND TO SPEAK TO LORD SARIEL!" said a nearby, full-throated one, who waved his sword for emphasis. He was a rare brindle-colored angel, which gave his wings a bit of the unfortunate appearance that he was molting.
"I'm Sariel."
"Wait, you're Sariel?" The brindle angle squinted at him. "Aren't you a little short for a Seraph?"
"I'm not a Seraph."
"Oh. Well. Anyway. WE ARE HERE TO OFFER YOU OUR PROTECTION."
"From what? You?"
"Well, that would be the implication," the Brindle sniffed, as if Charles were slightly stupid. "WE ARE A TERRIBLE MOB OF ANGELS," he shouted, emphasizing it by waving his sword.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, give me that," Charles told him impatiently, snatching away the sword and burying the point in the ground.
"Hey, that was mine," Brindle muttered.
"If you don't recognize me, do you at least recognize her?" Charles shouted to them, gesturing behind him. "That's Lady Raziel. Of the Seraphim. The one who took off Uriah's head?"
Raziel scowled menacingly, and the angels edged away from her.
"Now, what I want, and Lady Raziel wants, is for everybody to calm the fuck down and go to Court Form so we can discuss this."
“Bunch of Cherubim,” Raziel whispered to Pickles. “Annoying.”
"I t'ought Cherubs was da little fat baby dudes," Pickles whispered back.
"Aw, you're thinking of Putties. They're even more annoying," Raziel told him.
“Wait. Putties? Dey ain’t da Power Rangers doods?”
“What’s a Power Ranger?”
“PICKLE!” Toki had just emerged from Mordhaus, looking rather frantic.
“What da feck is da matter, dood?” Pickles asked. Toki grabbed Pickles and whispered in his ear, and they both took off running back inside.
Raziel arched an eyebrow and turned her attentions back to where Sariel was arguing with the Cherubim, who were now all obediently Court Formed. “We’re afraid to go back now,” the scruffy-looking Brindle was confessing.
“You’re afraid of Seraphim? And you want jobs in security?” Sariel asked them. Stupid, stupid Cherubs. “All right. All right. What did you guys actually do up there?” he asked, pointing upwards with the Brindle's sword.
“We worked in Accounts Receivable,” a plump blond one supplied.
“You’re accountants?” There were embarrassed nods. “Well, shit, we need accountants! Look, I’ll call down some of my HR people and we’ll talk to you, OK?” There were more nods, and before long, Sariel had a couple of his strange hoodie people down to talk to the annoying Cherubim.
“You’re not really going to hire a bunch of Cherubim?” Raziel asked Sariel as he made for the door.
“Why the hell not?”
“They’re annoying!”
“Yeah, but they’re great at doing boring crap, they work cheap, and when they fall off the edge, they don’t tend to die, like my last batch of accountants.” He was still holding Brindle’s sword.
“Boy, what a crap sword,” Raziel commented. “You better have Jean-Pierre prepare some sheet cakes. Those Cherubim love their sheet cakes.”
Sariel feinted with the terrible blade. It really was a piece of crap. “Do you think Wotan needs anybody? To do boring stuff.”
“Maybe. I could send a raven.”
“Where the heck is he? He’s never in cell contact.”
“Something he’s been working on. I’ll tell you in a while, OK?”
“Oh.” Sariel suddenly stopped messing with the sword and looked at Raziel.
“I need to head back,” she said, fiddling with the knot on his tie. “Anything I can pick you up in Milan?"
“No more of your Italian fucking suits,” he said, waving the sword. “I just wanna go back to my old clothes.”
“So? Gain some weight. Otherwise, you’re stuck with my couture.”
“Raziel! I’m not your fucking dress up fucking doll!”
“Aw, c’mon, it’s seven fucking months ‘till the babies come and I get to attire them in adorable little outfits.”
“Shouldn’t you go and get…." He pointed at her with the sword. "I dunno, what the fuck women get to wear when they’re pregnant.”
“Maternity. Yeah. But I’ve been barfing so much I’ve actually lost weight. Sort of annoying.”
"You now wanna get fat?"
"Wotan thinks pregnant women are sexy."
"I didn't need to know that!" But she was already gone. "I didn't need to know that," he instead grumbled to himself, twirling the sword. "I would pay somebody to take that knowledge out of my brain." He was still mindlessly swinging the Cherub's worthless blade around when he opened the door to his office and heard the gasp. Isis and Nephthys were sitting there, gripping each other, evidently in terror at the sword-bearing avenging angel. Toki stood over them scowling.
Charles hastily tossed the sword on his desk and tried to shrink back unassuming manager mode. "Uh, sorry. What's up?"
“Isis and Nephthys ams has somethings to tells you,” Toki told him, crossing his arms and staring hard down at the twin goddesses. As was their custom, Nephthys was clad all in an outlandishly frilly black outfit, and Isis in equally frilly but candy-colored garb. Isis usually seemed the sunny tempered one, but today both girls looked quite sheepish.
"Charles ams be very mads at yous," Toki warned them, wagging a stern finger.
"Toki!" Charles held up a warning hand. "Let's hear what they have to say, OK?" Toki seemed slightly chastened. Charles wondered why he was acting more like a stern father than their boyfriend. He decided he didn't want to know. “All right," he said, trying very hard to keep his voice soft, "Wanna tell me what happened?”
“Well, we were babysitting Aaron….” Isis began.
“Wait! OK, Toki?" He turned to the guitarist in shock. "You know about Aaron?”
“Skwisgaar ams tells me!” Toki told him.
“OK. But. You know we’re not supposed to tell anybody. Anybody! It’s supposed to be a secret. Right?"
“He ams not tells anybodies! Only me!” Toki protested.
“OK. OK. All right." Only Toki. And the twins. And, what, their entire high school? Did goddesses go to high school? "So, go on, girls.”
“So, uh, we were using our powers of life and death,” Nephthys said.
“And Aaron wanted to see,” Isis continued.
“HI SARIEL!” It was Aaron, at the door with Pickles.
Not Aaron's ghost.
Aaron.
“Holy shit,” said Charles.
Ganesh was wrapping his stethoscope around his neck as they watched Isis and Nephthys lead Aaron out of Pickles’ room. “Returned from the afterlife,” he mused. “Seems to be a growing trend. Now, what did the goddesses say happened again?”
“Isis used her powers of life on him,” Charles told him, closing the door behind the goddesses.
“And then Nephthys was scared to use her power of death because she didn’t wanna kill him. Again."
“Well, that would do it I suppose,” Ganesh grinned.
“So the boy-“ Charles began.
“Seems to be a normal, healthy boy. Interestingly, his body bears none of the signs of prenatal magic abuse.”
"But, they're not even from the same fucking pantheon! I don't understand it."
Ganesh shrugged. "New World gods, I don't really know."
“Cool!” said Pickles, who had been sitting cross-legged on his bed, intently attending to every word. “Den he can jist stay here wit’ us!”
“No, Pickles,” Charles warned.
“Whaddya mean, no?”
“Everything else aside, do you have ANY IDEA what the current mortality rate is for persons living at Mordhaus?”
“But I’m his guardian spirit dood!” the drummer protested.
“Pickles, we need to inform Spider Grandma about this. He may need to go back with the Hopi. They’re his people.”
“But he may be in danger from da angel doods out dere!”
“Pickles, we all understand and appreciate that you’ve been a faithful guardian to Aaron….”
“But, what? Yer takin’ him away now he’s real again?”
“Pickles, he is a child.” And I am now the meanest man in the universe, Charles thought sadly.
“We would have a place for him I think up in the Imperial City,” Ganesh supplied.
“Huh?” Charles asked.
Ganesh smiled. “I should point out; my mother has a bit of experience raising boys. And would probably be grateful for the diversion. And that way Pickles could come up to visit any time he fancied.”
“Yeh!” Pickles pleaded. “We could do dat! We could do dat! He’ll go wit’ Parvati! Right?”
Charles held his forehead. “All right. All right. All right. With the understanding that this is TEMPORARY until we hear from the Hopi!” Ganesh smiled and pulled out his cell phone.
They walked back to his office, where Aaron sat contentedly between Isis and Nephthys, poking at somebody's Gameboy. Ganesh crouched down to talk. “Would you care to come up and stay with my family for a short time, Aaron?” he asked.
“Do you have an airship?” Aaron asked.
“Sadly no. We are very boring. We have only elephants. And tigers. And monkeys.”
“Don’t say that too loud, or Nathan will want to come live with you too,” Charles whispered to him.
Then, Pickles and Ganesh each taking a hand, Aaron walked a few steps and disappeared.
Charles sat down at his desk in front of Isis and Nephthys again. They both blinked at him. He realized they were ancient, but really, they looked like teenagers. He suddenly wondered where the hell Toki had run off to. He decided he was probably expected to say something. “So, uh, I guess this is a lesson to be careful with your powers of life and death,” he said lamely.
The twins nodded as if this were the wisdom of the ages.
“OK, well,” he started, hoping the hint would hasten the hasty removal of underaged gods from his office.
The twins looked at each other, and broke in to shy giggles.
“Uh, yes?” he asked, trying not to sound exasperated.
“Could we see your eyes?” Nephthys pleaded.
He let out a quiet sigh, and tipped his tinted glasses down to better display his heterochromia. The girls cooed.
“How did you DO that?” Isis asked.
I had a threesome that I can’t remember. “The magic, uh, that puts me back to Court Form…. It didn't work right, for some reason.”
“Oh,” said Isis, a little disappointed.
“So,” said Nephthys, “sometimes your spells don’t work?”
“Yes, sometimes my magic doesn’t work as it’s supposed to. That’s why we should always be careful.” Didn’t their folks tell them this stuff? He decided to broach the subject. “I’m sure your parents have talked about this?”
The girls looked at each other. For the first time, he wondered if Isis was using magic to get her hair that funny mint green color. A really good way to end up bald, he thought.
“Our parents are sort of busy. You know,” Isis began.
“No, I don’t know.”
“They’re earth and sky,” Nephthys said.
"And, you know...." Isis maddeningly tailed off again.
He must have look puzzled, because Nephthys suddenly leaned forward and whispered, "They're always having S-E-X."
He crossed his arms in what he desperately hoped was an authoritative manner and nodded. Oh, trust a pair of fertility gods. "OK, well, in the future, if something like this comes up, realize that you can come talk to me." He cringed internally, praying that he would never again see either one in his office.
"Uh, was that Lord Ganesh?" Isis suddenly asked.
"Yes, that was Lord Ganesh."
There was the leaning forward again. "Is it true he CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD for you?" Nephthys asked.
Is this conversation ever going to end? "Lord Ganesh was unfortunately murdered. But after visiting his afterlife, he has been returned to us."
The girls giggled again. "That's so romantic," Nephthys sighed.
"Uh. Yeah."
He was opening the office door to at last shoo out the apparently smitten goddesses when he was nearly clobbered by Skwisgaar's Gibson.
"So, you ams gots da times to talks wit’ someone dat ams in da bands?" Skwisgaar demanded, pushing by Charles, planting himself in a chair, and swinging his feet up onto the desk.
"Of course. Uh, make yourself at home."
"I am quitsing da bands. I ams openings da magical detective agencies. And den I ams takes da cases wit da dames wit’ da greats gams."
"You're.... Uh.... OK. Let me get this straight." He sat down in his own chair with a sigh. "You're the guitarist in the most popular rock band on earth, but you want to be a hardboiled detective?"
"Ja, I ams boiled hard!"
"And, why is this? You're not happy in the band anymore?"
"I ams doings my best work! I ams has never played so many millions billions notes! And Nathan's ams just deletes every things. Pfft!"
"Well, uh, isn’t that what he does? Every time?"
"Ja! But dis time, ams because we sounds like crap!"
"Oh. So, you’re playing well, but the recording isn't going well?"
"No."
"And, uh, why do you think it isn't going well?"
"Because Pickles ams not deres."
"Oh."
"He ams walks in wit’ da magical shits and plays da drums rolls, rumbity-rum,” Skwisgaar said, miming the drum on his Gibson, “and den hims ams leaves! It ams nots like it was before."
"OK. OK. Pickles has other.... That's been partly my fault. That's actually been a lot my fault. I've been fucking up lately."
"Ja dat's true. You wants me to ams talks outs of quitsing too?"
"Huh?"
"OK, dudes, but we ams do me first because I ams asks first."
"Well, OK, honestly? I think it would be best if Pickles hears this from you guys. Why don't you and Nathan...."
“But if we ams asks, it ams gets too gays for Nat’ans. Dat ams why he ams not heres asking. You ams knows dat guy.”
“Well, look, I think Pickles was feeling a little left out by your guys from the beginning when Nathan decided to use Yannemango percussion.”
“Pffft. Feelingses.”
“Yeah, but…. OK, OK, here’s what you do. The angels don’t want you guys to finish this album. Did you know that?"
“Reallies? Dan angelses ams assholes. No offenses.”
“None taken.”
“Hmpf. Maybe we ams tells Pickles dat. OK. Now you!”
“Now me what?”
“You ams tells me you ams gonna quits and I ams talks you out of it.”
“Uh, OK. Well. I guess I feel I’ve been-“
“PFFFT!”
“Well. Yeah. Thanks, Skwisgaar, that’s very persuasive….”
“You ams blowed up da guys dat ams killed da Gannishes,” said Skwisgaar, emphasizing it all with a chord, “and den Gannishes ams comes backs, and we ams makingsing da brutal albums (whens Nat’ans stops deletsing its), and now you ams wears da nice suits so you don’t look like da dumbs douche bags. No offense.”
“Uh….”
“So, you ams gots no reasons to quitses! See, I ams persusacious!”
“Yeah. Thanks, Skwisgaar. Maybe you could get a second job as a motivational speaker," he said as the guitarist sashayed out of his office. He picked up the Cherubic accontant's sword, which was still on his desk. Annoyed, he frowned at it. The blade heated to red hot. It was just going orange when it completely melted away with a fizzle.
"What a piece of crap," he muttered, throwing the still smoking hilt on his desk.
Charles stood before the full length mirror in his room and despaired. He had finally found the time between crises to duck into his room and don an old suit. This had made him happy for all of 15 seconds, before the pants slipped down around his ankles, due to a lack of anything to impede them on their journey.
"Ferget somethin', dood?" Pickles seemed damnably cheerful about it. Charles wasn't exactly certain whether he had missed Pickles coming in through the doorway, or whether the drummer had just appeared on his bed. Either one was a possibility.
"Pickles, I no longer even give a shit where we go on this goddamned spirit Walk, just get me out of fucking Mordhaus," he grumbled, irritably kicking away the clown pants and grabbing on the horrible Caraceni ones.
"Yoo OK dood?"
"Cherubs and teenagers? On the same motherfucking day? Someone obviously wants to kill me."
"Yoo mean Isis an' Nephthys, dood? I t'ought dey wuz immortal gods like?"
"Some gods.... It's hard to explain. But they never quite seem to reach adulthood."
"Yoo get t' be young ferever? Not a bad gig."
"Uh-huh. So you really liked being a teenager?"
"Aw, feck no, it totally sucked."
"Yeah. To have it suck for eternity.”
“Heh. Like dose immortal vampire doods who are still in high school?”
“Oh, god, Pickles, don’t tell me you read that crap?”
“All da groupies are into dat sparkly vampire shit! Yoo should come hang wit’ us an’ see.”
“Yeah. Uh. Ganesh-“
“Can come too!”
“He’s, uh, he’s not really into women.”
Pickles howled with laughter. “Yoo’d be surprised what dat dood is into when he’s got a few in ‘im!”
“Pickles… Pickles. Pickles, please don’t kill my boyfriend, OK? I just got him back.” Charles sat down moodily on the edge of his bed. How long had it been since he had actually slept in his own room? He couldn’t remember. He hadn't been able to sleep, for such a long time.
He turned to look at Pickles. “I never really said thank you, to you, did I?"
“Nah. Yoo can be kind of a douche.”
“Yeah. Uh. So. Did you guys get Aaron situated?"
"Yeah. I t'ink Parvati's got dat whole knittin' circle deal now making him socks or some shit. Anyway. Yoo ready to go?” Charles nodded, and Pickles grabbed his elbow. It was strange. Charles was so used to getting yanked around by the collar by Raziel, but he could barely feel it when they broke through the thin tissue of reality to Pickles’ Dreamspace.
“What the fuck is this?” They were suddenly on the deck of the most amazing airship.
“Dis is my gold zeppelin.”
“Because you want to go one better?” Pickles didn’t answer, but simply grinned. He steered Charles off the deck, and into one of the corridors. Charles soon noticed that the mellow buzz that seemed to pervade the ship had faded. There was something foreboding down here.
“OK, dood, now, yoo remember, dis all happens pretty fast, and if it’s like usual, we’ll get kicked out pretty soon. I could go back wit’ yoo if yoo wannaseeit again but I usually don’t feel like it. Fer a while.”
Charles nodded, and they opened the door.
He froze.
“RAZIEL! NO!”
Pickles’ arms were around him, restraining him. “I tol’ yoo, it ain’t Raziel,” he whispered.
Then the Creator was upon her.
And then they were outside on the deck once again.
“I need to…. I’ve got to….” He looked at Pickles. “I’m going to….” And then he was gone. And Pickles was standing on the deck of his airship, all alone.
“Raziel.”
“Oh hey.” Raziel was sitting on the back porch at Valhalla, various animals nosing around her feet. She was squinting into an iPad, and didn’t bother to look up. “We’ve got the weirdest case at the Council at Ithavoll this month….”
And then she looked up at him.
“OK. C’mon,” she said, going inside.
He was sitting at Raziel and Wotan’s cluttered kitchen table, a plate of half-eaten sandwiches in front of him. He also had some beer left in a glass.
Raziel looked up from the newspaper she was leafing through and eyed him. She took a sip of tea. At some point, she had explained that it was Parvati’s brew, “The only thing that doesn’t make me rolf.”
She regarded him for a moment. She reached over and picked up his plate of sandwiches, as if she were weighing it in her hand. “Well, Ganesh will approve.” She put down the plate. “You ready to tell me about it?”
“I went on the Walk with Pickles.”
“Yeah, I gathered that.”
“Whoever it was, whatever it was, it does look like you.”
“OK. Did she speak Angelic?”
“Yeah, High Angelic.”
"Female Seraph?"
"I guess. Would you know her?"
"They were all gone before my time. I could try to find out if any of them are still around. What did she say?"
“It wasn't very much. She tells him, 'Please, I swear, she is yours.' And then He says, 'She will be mine and none other.'"
"Huh."
"And.... He doesn't just kill her. He extinguishes her. So her spirit is gone too."
"Wow." She was poking her spoon into her tea cup. "So. I heard about Aaron."
"Do you know the twins well?" he asked, grateful for a change in topic.
"Not really. They're pretty recent at the Stitch n Bitch."
"They dress like something out of the Eighteenth century."
Raziel laughed. "Yeah, that's actually super trendy now."
"What? Really? No!”
“They’re Lolitas!”
“You mean like in that book? Do they look for old guys to…?”
“No! They just wear the old-fashioned clothes.”
“Why? Why would they wanna wear all that underwear when you don’t have to!”
"I know you're not a fan of that era."
"You know how long it takes to open a goddam bodice?" he fumed. "Sometimes, you just wanna see tits." He suddenly looked up, horrified. "Uh. Not that I'd like to see their tits. Or, uh, have seen anything like that."
Raziel looked up, slyly. "Those girls - do you think they’ve ever...?"
"No! I was just gonna say that.” He leaned over to whisper to her. “They wouldn't even say the word sex! They had to spell it!"
"Fertility god parents. That'll do it."
"So what the hell do you think Toki...?"
"I haven't really figured it out. It seems like the girls in the Stitch n Bitch he's been dating are all just his friends. I mean, some of them are virgin goddesses, like the twins, and I know some of them don’t even care for men.”
“I keep feeling like…. Lately…. Like I’m straying into territory where I don’t wanna know.”
“Maybe you don’t,” she shrugged.
“Yeah, but I'm supposed to know everything with those guys! It's my goddam job!"
“Hey sweetie!”
The door banged shut behind Wotan. “Sariel! Are ye stayin’ for dinner? We could have cook whip up a couple steaks!”
“Raziel just fed me thanks,” he said, indicating the plate. “I should be getting back in a bit anyway.”
“You’ll stay for a drink? I suppose Ganesh would have my head if I offered you a Cuban.”
“Maybe better wait on the cigar. And I already feel a bit woozy from the beer.”
“Aw, you can always stand a touch of Scotch. 150 years old, this one!” And so Sariel found himself on an overstuffed couch in one of Valhalla’s comfortable sitting rooms, wolf at his feet, and a glass of very old whiskey sitting temptingly in front of him.
“I’m sort of a lightweight these days, Wotan, so only one, right?”
“I need to broach something with you. A bit of a delicate matter, this.”
“Yeah?” He sipped at the Scotch. Wotan was right, it was incredible. He felt himself getting drunk from the fumes. Drunker, that is.
“You know what’s been going on….?” As they had all taken to doing, he pointed upwards instead of saying anything.
Sariel nodded.
“Well, as it happens, not everyone is pleased, or completely pleased by current events. And I’ve managed to maneuver one of the interested parties into a series of … meetings.”
To his horror, Sariel nearly spat a mouthful of the incredibly fine whiskey onto one of Wotan’s curious wolves. Instead, he swallowed, burning a path down his throat. “What?”
“Took a bit of doing, as you can imagine. It would be useful to have others at the table. However, I’m a bit chary about the Eastern Kingdom’s reaction.”
“Ganesh will fucking lose his shit.”
“Um. Something like that. Can you help him, maybe, retain his shit?”
“I can try. But Wotan, you only have to walk in the Imperial City. He wants angel heads. I want angel heads. I mean, besides what was done to him.”
“Regardless, the boy is a leader now, he’ll need to keep personal feelings in check.”
“Like I said, I’ll do what I can. What little I can.”
“I wouldn’t be so skeptical about your influence. You did manage to drag him back from the afterlife. Ain’t an easy trick. I don’t think you know Brahma, but he’s quite a character.”
“Wotan,” Sariel began, watching the god refill his glass which, oddly, was now empty. “Wotan. I’ve been fucking up.”
‘How’s that?”
“I have one job. One duty. To oversee my fucking band.”
“Heh. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call that only one job.”
“And I can’t seem to do that anymore. I mean, you saw me. I couldn’t even convince Toki not to go run off to war with the angels.”
“The boy is an adult. Not one with the best judgment, but if he wants to be an idiot, it is his right.”
“Dammit, Wotan, I used to be able to at least trick them out of being assholes.”
“Granted.” Wotan suddenly grinned and put a thumb into his Scotch glass. He leaned over and dabbed it on Sariel’s forehead. “There ye go! Forgiven!”
“What the fuck!”
“What the fuck? That’s the world’s finest single malt!”
“You can’t do that!”
“Why the hell not?”
“Wotan, there’s some things we’re not supposed to fuck up.”
“And who says? If not us?”
“I dunno.”
“As my son would say, ‘Pfft!’”
“Oh good Christ, don’t go quoting Skwisgaar’s collected wisdom now!”
“Or as I’d tell one of my sons, you fall off a horse….”
“You get back up, yeah.”
“After you get your arm out of the cast, you get back on,” Wotan laughed.
"Yeah. I think my arm's still in a cast. I think my whole fucking body is in traction."
"Well, it probably doesn't help to have Ganesh fussing over you like a goddam nanny. A bit overprotective, that boy.”
“Look! I just don’t wanna fuck up anything important.”
“OK. Then, don’t.”
“THOSE are your words of wisdom? You give worse advice than fucking Skwisgaar."
Wotan leaned back and grinned. “Like father, like son. Good Scotch, huh? Care for a cigar?"
Pickles wandered back from the Dreamtime into his empty room. Ditched by Charles. Well, it wasn't the first time. And now even Dreamtime was empty, with Aaron up at Parvati's place. Ganesh had said he should come up any time, but he felt a little weird about it, and they were probably gonna ship the kid back to the US anyway. He should have felt happy. It was a fucking miracle. But, he just sort of felt crappy and left out.
Oh, and speaking of left out, now he had to talk to the assholes in his band who had all ditched him to fly to the fucking Amazon and have some idiot fourth cousins of Nathan’s play the drum tracks. Motherdouchers.
He was further irritated to find only Nathan and Skwisgaar had bothered to show up to the meeting, even when he had deliberately come in late. He threw himself into chair and immediately determined to take everything out on the two band members seated opposite.
"Where da feck is everybody?" he grumbled.
"It ams onlies us," Skwisgaar told him as he obliviously fingered runs on his guitar.
"Charles didn' even bother t' feckin' show up?"
"He asked us to say this so we're just going to say this and then we can get out of here," Nathan babbled. "So, WE NEED YOU IN BRAZIL. Because the record sort of sucks and stuff and also the angels don’t like it. Blah blah blah. Anyway, hey, let's all get out of here now."
Pickles sat forward. "Feck. Yoo."
"Uhhhhhhh," Nathan started. "So, that means we're OK and you're coming to record with us and we can STOP FUCKING TALKING before this all get too gay?"
"Feck. Yoo. It means, feck. Yoo."
"SKWISGAAR THIS IS GETTING TOO FUCKING GAY! Can we just like call Charles in and make him deal with this stuff, or is he out buying a new suit or some shit."
"Nat'an, will yoo quit sayin' it's gettin' too gay?"
"But, dude, it's getting way too gay!"
"It irritates da feck outta me!"
"Pickles, dude, I'm sorry, but this really is getting too gay now!"
"Yoo want gay! I'll show yoo my feckin' dick! Is dat gay enough?"
"Ewwwwwww! Pickles, nobody wants to see that," a horrified Nathan told him.
"Except maybe dat Gannish dude ams wants to see," Skwisgaar laughed.
"Eh, he's seen it," Pickles told him.
"He ams not!" Skwisgaar said.
Pickles motioned the guitarist to lean over. "Nat'ans, ams covers you ears, dudes!" the guitarist motioned.
"Da other night, dood," Pickles whispered.
"Naw!" protested Skwisgaar, who seemed to be playing faster. "He ams cheatsings on Charle? Dat ams not cools."
"No, dood, da t'ree of us."
"No ways!"
"NO FUCKING WAY!" boomed Nathan.
"Nat'ans!" Skwisgaar scolded. "You ams coveringses da earses!"
"It fecked up his eye," Pickles supplied, grinning and pointing to his own left eye.
"Oh, dat is how dat ams happens!" said Skwisgaar.
"CHARLES WOULDN'T DO THAT!" Nathan thundered.
"Uh-huh. And why not, dood?" Pickles asked.
"Uhhhhhhh...."
"Pffft. Gannish ams da sexy guy. I ams do hims myself, but I must saves it for da lovelies ladies. I ams just putsing dat out dere.”
"Uh, so Ganesh dude," Nathan began, "Does he like do it with his elephant head thing on?"
"Naw," said Pickles.
"Oh," said Nathan, sounding oddly disappointed.
"All his elephant heads got smashed," Pickles supplied.
"Ohhhhhh, yeah," Nathan said.
"But, uh," Pickles motioned them both lean forward. "Charles? I t'ink he was, like, da angel!"
"NOOOOO!" bellowed Nathan.
"You ams not rememberskings?" Skwisgaar asked.
Pickles shook his head.
"Pfft. I ams woulds do hims as da angels," Skwisgaar commented. "I ams kissed him once."
"Really dood?" Pickles asked.
"Ja. When hims ams da angels."
"No way," said Pickles.
"But I must ams saves my lovingses for so manies ladies."
"Yeh. Da ladies," mused Pickles.
"I kissed him once," Nathan supplied.
Skwisgaar stopped playing his guitar.
Pickles and Skwisgaar stared at Nathan.
Nathan looked back at them. “But NO TONGUE!” he insisted.
"Dood," muttered Pickles.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Uhhhhh. You dudes ams want to goes to a strips bar?" Skwisgaar inquired.
"Yeah, dood, totally,” agreed Pickles.
"Sure," said Nathan.
And with that, the three musicians rose and departed the meeting room.
He should meditate, Shri Ganesha, Lord of Hosts, and Acting Lord of Destruction, thought to himself.
Naw, fuck that. He had just spent an entire month in quiet meditation, and, to be honest, was a bit fed up with all that inner peace crap.
He could read, he thought. He grabbed his iPad in one of his many hands and thumbed through all the electronic books he had thoughtfully downloaded. He had spent many a pleasant hour of late reading while Sariel lay sleeping in the next room. Of course, he no longer lay there. Lord Ganesh knew this, as he had personally tied Sariel's tie in a fine Windsor knot (before Lady Raziel annoyingly retied it into a four in hand) and sent him back to work today.
Since that time, Lord Ganesh, once he had rushed off to work himself, had endured a chaotic and stressful day. He had spent his only idle hour rushing down to Mordhaus to check up on the shaman boy, and then escorting him back and getting him comfortable and situated at his mother's palace. And then it was back to a round of meetings and dealing with angry and disheartened people still suffering in the ruined Imperial City.
Then he had returned in the evening here, to his quiet and serene residence with its still reflecting pools and hushed servants.
And he fucking hated it.
This was ridiculous. Lord of Destruction wasn't able to enjoy a single evening's worth of solitude? Ridiculous!
He thumped down on the couch and plucked a DVD from the pile. He should watch a movie. That would be a fine solitary activity. Sariel's presence would only irritate him. He would sit just more than an arm's reach apart on the couch and curse at the remote controls and talk over all the jokes.
He frowned.
He dug his cell phone out of his pocket.
The door thumped.
"You wouldn't FUCKING BELIEVE what happened today...." Sariel was saying. He was awkwardly carrying a stack of what looked like DVD boxes, and trampling in bits of mud from the gardens at Mordhaus into the carpets, because he never bothered to wipe his feet and couldn't be trained to remove his shoes in the house. "Oh, should I have called first?"
Ganesh realized he was gawping. "Oh. NO! No, of course not."
Sariel dumped the stack of DVD boxes all over the coffee table and sat, swinging his muddy feet beside them. "I dunno what the fuck is up with my Netflix. All this stuff musta come in when I was sick. But it's all weird romantic comedies and girlie crap. What the fuck do I care about Katherine fucking Heigl?"
Ganesh remembered the disk in his own hand. "I was just going to put in, er, a DVD?"
"Bringing Up Baby? This is a classic! You've seen it, right? No! Then we gotta watch!" Sariel cursed at one and then another remote control when they failed to function, as they controlled the stereo system and the satellite system and not the BluRay player. Ganesh picked up the correct remote and started the film.
"See? See?" Sariel was raving at the screen. "Why does anybody even bother to wear a tuxedo? They should have retired that style after Cary Grant died."
"You were going to tell me what happened today?"
"Oh my god FUCKING ANGELS!"
"Indeed," smiled Lord Ganesh. "Were they perchance down in your garden?" he asked, eying Sariel's muddy feet. He slid closer to Sariel and put an arm over the the back of the couch behind him.
"Oh, yeah, fucking A," Sariel grumbled. He espied Ganesh's arm and pulled it over his shoulders, leaning back. "Fucking angels. Hey, you know who would wear that outfit?” he asked, jutting out an arm at the screen.
"Raziel," Ganesh laughed, as Sariel seized his cell phone.
And so it happened, before the DVD had quite completed, that Lord Ganesh's media room somehow had come to contain not only Lady Raziel, but also Lord Wotan, who had to be sternly urged not to offer his cigars to Sariel; and furthermore, Ganesh's mother, whom came accompanying Aaron, which meant that Pickles had appeared as well. Lord Wotan then proceeded to book seemingly every weekend and vacation for the remainder of Aaron’s life with this or that hunting or fishing expedition. And, somehow, though Lord Ganesh was not certain of the connection, Toki Wartooth as well as Isis and Nephthys had also come to occupy his floor in front of the TV, dropping popcorn on his tidy floors, and then also Nathan, Skwisgaar and Murderface of Dethklok, plus their record producer, Dick Knubbler, all of whom spent a brief time arguing over something called a lava fountain instead of watching, followed by a long debate regarding the strip club to which they would retire on their next stop this evening.
It was all rather splendid. Sariel even suffered Ganesh’s arm over his shoulders, although there was much wriggling from him as he continued to maliciously place his feet in a protesting Raziel’s lap. On the other hand, Lord Ganesh hadn’t known that Sariel’s feet were quite so ticklish prior to this evening. This was useful information to have.
Sariel was much relieved to see the last of Isis and Nephthys, who had been pretty much ignoring Toki this night and instead, had spent much time swooning in his own general direction. He sighed. They had all five members of Dethklok here to drool over! What the fuck!
But the crowd had finally departed, leaving only trampled in popcorn, and he and Lord Ganesh remained, sprawled on the couch.
“Have you been smoking?” Ganesh asked, sniffing at Sariel’s brand new jacket.
“It was only…. It was only half a cigar. I didn’t wanna offend Wotan!”
Ganesh sighed. “I should like to talk something over with you, jaanu.”
“No, I do not know what is up with the goddam twins, though I wish they would go away,” Sariel fumed.
“Ha! Puppy love. It’s harmless, I should think.”
“They have the power of life and death!”
“They’re girls. They will be on to something new in a week or so. Just see.”
“Hmpf.”
“I had been considering something. Since Aaron is to be living with my mother for the near future, I thought to offer Pickles a room here, as I do not think my mother’s residence is, er, appropriate for some of his activities.”
“Pickles? Up here with you?”
“Up here with us, yes.”
“Uh. You realize then that what happened the other night … is likely to happen again?”
“I had rather hoped it would happen again, actually.”
"Ganesh…. OK. All right…. Uh….”
Ganesh smiled and kissed Sariel on his head. "I came back from the dead for you, jaanu. If you should like to continue this, then we shall. Else if you would like Pickles cast onto a lake of eternal fire, we shall do that. I am head of the religion, so I should wish to work on my vengeance."
"What?"
"It was a joke. I am not going to cast Pickles into a lake of fire." Ganesh grinned and pushed his hair out of his face. It all fell right back.
"They didn't fix that?" Sariel asked.
"Sorry?"
"The hair thing. It still falls in your face."
"No, they didn't fix 'the hair thing.' Though I have found, to my sorrow, that I am now left handed. It has caused me great woes in maintaining my sword fighting techniques. I am certain this must have been a source of great amusement on Great Brahma's part! Such an asshole.”
“But, Pickles….”
“As I have said, I would like to leave this up to you. The man obviously holds a great deal of affection towards you, and arguably saved you from death when you were mourning my passing. For this alone he has earned my gratitude. I am unable to interpret why you continue to spurn him, although I suspect it may connect to the fact that he was unlucky enough to be incarnated as a human.”
"You're not jealous?"
"Why should I have that emotion?"
"OK, look, there is something we need to fucking straighten out. When I saw Eototo-"
He had only gotten as far as the Kachina's name before Ganesh's entire demeanor had changed. He looked as if he might set something on fire with his mind.
"Ganesh!” Sariel asked, sitting up. “You can't just fucking glower! I wanna understand this! We've gotta fucking talk! We've got to...." He paused, frustrated. “Wait. Wait. You don't talk, you dance, right? Let me try something.”
He walked over to the stereo and picked up Ganesh's remote control. It had more buttons than a Keith Moon jacket. But after a bit of fumbling, and toggling through some terrible racket and some cringe-worthy trance crap, he found a suitable piece of music.
He walked over to the couch, where Ganesh still sat, seething. "OK, c'mon." Ganesh looked up, puzzled. "We're gonna.... We're gonna dance about this?" He hadn't exactly meant it as a question, but saying it made it seem even weirder.
He pulled Ganesh to his feet. Sure enough, slow dancing seemed to very quickly soothe the god's foul mood.
"Raziel keeps telling me you guys dance, and I have no fucking idea, so you're going to have to bear with me, OK?" He decided to try pushing a thought into Ganesh's mind. "Dance - OK?"
Ganesh blinked, and then happily swung him around.
"That means OK?"
He got the move again. Yes - yes - yes.
"Dizzy."
Ganesh laughed.
"Wait a minute, is this a language?" he muttered. He tried, "Dance - speak?"
Yes.
Great, Sariel thought. The most mind-fuckingly complicated relationship issue of my entire existence, and I can only ask yes-no questions. "Shit! No wonder Raziel can dance with you! Her language thing."
But it seemed a language as elusive as High Angelic. As it turned out, from a few more tries, there was not just yes or no: there were in fact, several different ways of saying yes, and several more of no, and definitely a few maybes. And they seemed to have different shades of meaning, including the notorious "no that actually means yes."
It was all quite interesting, and might have diverted an anthropologist for many happy dissertations. But though Lord Ganesh currently appeared to be having the time of his life, Sariel was growing frustrated.
At length, he sat Ganesh on the couch and knelt down before him, holding Ganesh's hands in his. "Ganesh? Look at me. I need to say is in words, because I don't know what I'm fucking doing yet. Can you listen?" The god smiled serenely at him.
“OK. OK. For what I think is the first time in my entire existence, I am going to make a relationship promise that I can actually keep. Whatever the fuck this is, and I’m still not entirely sure, it’s just the two of us? OK? The dancing thing? Just you and me! No other earth gods, or anyone else. All right? Is that what you need? Can you just … can you just let me know?”
Shri Ganesha looked down.
His dear angel appeared upset.
Well, of course he was upset. He’d stopped dancing. Silly thing.
Lord Ganesh swept him up, back into the dance.
Everything would be all right. He would show him. So much to show him!
Everything would be just fine.