Work Text:
"... Da Rift's gettin' harder to close."
Heckity stares up into the stars, tracing constellations he watched King piece together while he rests. The Rift isn't threatening to tear the sky open again, that won't be for another twenty-five years. This closing marked the turn of the century, and those have always had more energy than others. People cheering, watching the gods pull the heavens back into one piece, cooking food and visiting from all over the world to crowd together on the biggest island.
But this year, it was different. He had to use more hands. He could see King straining a bit harder, watched sweat bead on her forehead. The Rift felt like it was pulling even harder on the heavens than it did centuries and millennia ago, back when there was a Grove and a Spire and a Godpoke. Distant history that nobody on this archipelago would remember, save for the gods themselves.
"Yew felt it too, right?"
King keeps writing, but he can tell she's listening from the way her eyebrow lifts and her feathers ruffle. He wishes she would say anything. He turns to her and pokes her.
"We... might need more goddies. We can't keep puttin' it off no more."
She's still quiet, save for the gentle scratching of her pen. (He misses his pen. He misses his God Complex.) He pulls on one of her wings to get her attention. In return, King lifts one hand to playfully tug at his whiskers. She finally looks up from her manuscript with a solemn sigh.
"How do ya suppose we do that?"
Heckity lets out a breath. He fidgets with his claws.
"I don't know," he whispers.
Her domain falls silent again. Heckity crawls over to rest his head on her lap with a huff. His tears and fresh-water hair soak her clothes. He would be surprised she didn’t mind this, if it hasn't been centuries since his real hair disappeared in favor of gentle waterfalls. The people have started to associate him with the sea, and it seems to have changed him in turn.
"I- I think..." he begins, unaware of where his sentence will end, "I think we oughta get people who are good at it. But I'm stuck on how we figure out who's good at it, 'cause we can't just be biased, can we?"
"We could. I've seen a few people that remind me of..."
Heckity winces at the suggestion that certain mortals remind King of the fallen gods. It has to be coincidence, right? He shakes the thought away, even though it's occurred to him too.
"No, no, I'm sayin' I don't want to be biased. Be-caws we can't have another me if we choose wrong. Yew know dis."
"Naturally. But I think we can keep a closer eye on them anyway."
King gently places her hand on Heckity's head, watching his snout scrunch in thought. She watches the way the water flows over her fingers. It's cool, and soothing, and Heckity enjoys the feeling of her hand on his head.
"Well. In da Grove... da people chose da gods. But we know how dat turned out."
"Right."
"And I wanna be shore dat da people we ascend will be good at their jobs."
"Mhm."
"... think we could have, uh, tests? Somehow?"
"Tests."
"Uh huh. See how dey, um... handle da response-abilities."
"That could work."
"But..."
He growls, and King starts scratching behind his ear, glancing down to him with a raised eyebrow. She sets her manuscript to the side.
"What's wrong? It's a good idea."
"We still gotta pick 'em in da first place! Can we- can we do elec-shuns? We can't, right?"
"I'm sure we could. We just have to be more careful. Do you not trust everyone?"
Heckity raises his head to give King a knowing look.
"... Right, right. Not sure how I forgot."
They both sigh, thinking over their options.
"I did meet a very nice lady," says Heckity. "She seems to know what she’s talking about. Maybe she'd make a good god."
"For what?"
"Don’t know. Maybe we let her figure it out. But I got a good feeling about her.... I wish we knew how Missy chose Bauhauzzo."
"So do I."
The quiet turns uncomfortable. Heckity shudders.
"... I'm sawry yew don't get to be with Missy."
"You've said this before."
"Don’t have anything else to say, 'cept for dat." He sighs. He starts sniffling. "I- I miss da Grove. I miss da Drain... I miss my boys..."
"I miss it all too, but we both know we can't go back. We can only go forward."
King moves her hand to his back, feeling his hands crawl around to meet her under his coat. Behind his sobbing, he huffs and looks up at her with a weak, shaky smile.
"I hate when yew're right."