Neophyte World Builder

SENA

When Crown had said he’d be busy for a little while, Sena hadn’t really thought about it. Only after she had spoken with Haptus for a while did she remember that to him, he might be busy working on that project for years from her perspective. He’d said as much before.

She wasn’t being unobservant, she’d just internalized the idea already. That was mildly disturbing to think about if she dwelled on it… but as she wandered the afterlife herself, she realized that time was strange for her, as well. Her impatient grumpiness that it had been weeks prompted Eyssa to comment that it had been a little over two decades.

That fact had taken a while for Sena to digest fully.

“Mortals in their bodies suffer from the constant aging and degradation of their flesh,” Muerve explained as they nudged their piece forward one square. They passed the dice to Sena and continued, “Without that pressure, the mind relaxes and takes things at a slower pace. Your thoughts wander, you review memories once unclear, and you move at an unhurried pace. With no need to sleep, not aging, and without even the need for night and day to exist if you do not desire it, time begins to lose meaning.”

Sena raised an eyebrow at the god, then rolled the dice and sighed. Her result wasn’t enough to break through the barrier to the next spot, so she took another token and slid the dice back. The feral-looking vaskan—currently resembling a sleek, black-furred predator Totem—chuckled at her sigh as they considered where to attempt a move next. As usual, Muerve’s look was so androgynous that it was impossible to tell what they were. Sena wasn’t sure why the god had such an aversion to picking a gender, but gods were strange, she was learning.

“Is that why you force most of them into reincarnating after a while?” Sena asked with her fingers drumming on the table. “It seems so odd to me that no matter what we do in life, the result is the same.”

The god considered the question, scratching their chin. “Yes… and no. Reincarnation is done when souls start to drift, or if they choose to leave, unless Akasha thinks they need some kind of punishment. We’ve discussed a god of judgement before, but usually we simply agree that someone needs a talking to while they are here. After all, the kinds of punishments we can do are somewhat limited, at least without damaging the soul.”

Sena frowned at the mention of that, but nodded. “So how do you punish them? And what qualifies as needing punishment?”

The dice rolled, and Muerve sighed as their total failed to pass the threshold needed. “Hm. Oh, usually we simply restrict how they can spend their time here, or show them the results of their actions. Every soul is different, and part of my job is to decide how to handle each. Anything that actually damages the stability of the world is treated more harshly, if it was deliberate, but those who are especially vile sometimes end up held here as well.”

It was an interesting discussion, and Sena was glad that the unusual god’s earlier wariness around her had faded somewhat. She tried a different path on the board as she continued speaking. “That’s another thing that confuses me, Muerve. Most souls have their memories lost when they return to the living world. How can punishment even matter? Can they learn their lessons?”

“Of course,” the god snorted. “They don’t remember what happened exactly, but after a profound enough experience—in life or afterlife—the soul keeps echoes of what happened even if it cannot remember the specifics. A nudge of empathy, a flash of strange guilt or the feeling of having done this before… a vague sensation that something is a bad idea… as a soul grows older, it accumulates these. Some are strengthened, others may fade over time, but the soul grows and changes. Slowly, at times, but it does change.”

Fascinated, Sena leaned away from the game. “So when I return to the living, I’ll lean toward what I did before? Or the same attitude? And Wanderer is always so… flamboyant?”

This time, a chuckle rose from Muerve’s muzzle. “Perhaps, or something where your tendencies would be useful. It is hard to say how much of one’s position is from their nature and how much from their position in life and opportunities given. Presuming you even return to the living at all. You hold a special position here, with your friendship with Akasha and Crown. It wouldn’t surprise me if they made you a permanent residence, if you wanted to stay.”

The god’s fingers interlaced as they frowned at the second question. “As for Wanderer… do recall that I have only held this position a relatively short time, but my understanding is that Wanderer is a special case. He has grown more vigorous and lively as time passed, and maintains it even in the afterlife. His… zeal… is something that I have never quite seen in my time managing the dead. I find it somewhat infectious, and I look forward to when he rejoins us here.”

Sena had to smile at the morbid thought. “Wishing death upon your friend, are you?”

Muerve wagged a finger and chuckled, “I am the god of death. But as you’ve seen, time is different for us here. Although I am busier than most, that is only because I wish to be. I can wait for him to return… though calling him friend is a reach. Perhaps someday. I do find him interesting, just as he finds everyone else interesting.”

“Hmm,” Sena murmured in reply. “I suppose. And I’m not sure that I would want to stay here forever. Eventually, I may want to move on… though keeping my memories between lives, like Wanderer does, would be nice.”

A casual wave of their hand dismissed the concern as the furred god shrugged. “That is a common request that we grant relatively often. As long as the memories are only in the afterlife, it isn’t a problem, though we often fade them out for very old souls. More often, they request to limit it themselves. Carrying too many years on the soul makes time in the afterlife a struggle for many.”

In a swirl of color, Akasha materialized not far away, stretching arms over her head as if awakening from a long nap. Sena lifted an eyebrow at the petite elf, as she knew Akasha didn’t sleep. All she got in reply to that was a twitch of the ears and a deep purpling of them.

“I am curious about one thing you mentioned, Muerve,” Sena said, ignoring Akasha’s flustered state for now. “You said time flows differently for us here, because we have no urgency… but how do you gods handle it? Aren’t you busy all the time?”

Akasha giggled and drew up a chair that didn’t exist a moment ago. The afterlife could be a strange place.

“It’s not quite like you think,” Akasha explained for the pondering Muerve. “I think I’ve mentioned before that most operations of the System are automatic. It ran before I gained a sense of self, and if I somehow died it would keep going. Someone would need to decide on Achievements, but the other gods could probably handle that.”

Muerve pushed the board for the game aside and nodded. “As she says, it is the same for myself. People died before I existed. They are now guided more efficiently and have more regularity in their reincarnations, that is all. I am vaguely aware of every death, in the same sense you’re aware of your fingers when alive even if they are not doing anything. Yet when you pay attention to them, you can sense more about what they touch, and control them with more precision.”

Now Akasha wiggled an ear and glanced at Muerve, then back at Sena. “There’s a little more to it than that. The first Achievements I had to handle by thinking through them, but now any regular one is handled without even thinking about it. What Muerve didn’t mention is that when we have a lot to handle at once, we… sort of think faster to handle it in time. Father uses a similar trick when something really bad happens and he needs to think through how to fix it. The rest of the time we barely notice time, unless something very special is going on like when you showed up.”

“You’re welcome,” Muerve said drily. “Though I am sure Crown would have wanted to wake her up eventually himself. I’m surprised he hasn’t made her the God of Judgement already. She seems very well-suited for the role.”

“Or the God of Love,” Akasha suggested with a playful sway of her tail. “But I think she should have a few more lives on her soul before she really settles in with the gods. What do you think, Sena? I’m sure Crown would do it if asked. I can even call him here… he should really take a break.”

The whole idea of it made Sena narrow her eyes to mask her confusion. “Maybe some life,” she allowed. “But I’m not sure I understand why I would be the God of Love. What would I even do? I never even found a husband in my life… or a lover at all. I loved my daughter, but every other relationship I had was at best barely present, and at worst a disaster.”

At this point, Muerve shifted back to their favored form, a pitch black rooken, and perched himself on the back of their chair. They clacked their beak in disbelief, “Are you serious? You are such a perceptive person, yet you still don’t understand the most basic matters. Perhaps you are ill-suited for it after all.”

Akasha’s laughter was more lighthearted and lacked Muerve’s tired disdain. “Oh, Sena… you advised me into a romance that has lasted lifetimes! Even now when I’m with Reyth, I feel special and treasure every moment. That’s because of you! And of course we all know you and Crown love one another deeply.”

Sena just glowered at Akasha, but Muerve sighed heavily and let out a loud chirp to draw her attention.

“It is very obvious,” the rooken trilled. “Perhaps not in the way Akasha has her dalliances, but you have all the passion that Wanderer puts into… er… everything he does. I doubt our hapless creator understands it either, so your disbelief is understandable. Just because you will never share a bed does not mean the feeling is not there.”

The blunt statement out of nowhere was not what Sena had ever expected. She was too used to controlling the room… even if Crown had found it easy to upend that control. Even so, she searched within her heart and wasn’t sure they were right.

Akasha flicked an ear in agreement with Muerve. “It isn’t romance, but it’s the deepest kind of friendship. If father ever wanted to have an actual romance, he’d probably pick you, even if you aren’t the right one for that… but right now you’re um… how can I put this?”

“Trust,” Muerve answered bluntly. “It is self-evident. The trust you have is so deep it is implicit. I believe you would make a poor head of the domain of love, but I see what Akasha is thinking. Is there another you would trust like him? Despite his… questionable competence in certain matters?”

Sena didn’t know how her soul could blush, but apparently it could.