want a good ol’ romance // oxo // closed

“I dOn’T kNoW???” Xellis replied, getting quite nervous himself, his voice slightly shaky. “How do I help you? Isn’t this what humans do??”
He let go, seeing as Scipio was clearly against it. Quietly, he rose from his sitting position, momentarily slipping from the room into the kitchen beside the main dining room. He appeared back in a split second with a small glass of water, setting it on the floor beside Scipio and sitting down next to him, although a little farther away this time. He stayed quiet, hugging his legs to his chest.

“Al-alright,” Xellis murmured quietly. He fiddled with his fingers as his hands clasped around his knees, his back shoved up against the wall. He kept his eyes forward, although they looked dimmer than they used to be. The situation had eased away the excitement of the fact that Scipio had decided to stay. The only thing left was concern. Xellis just hoped the soul would be okay.
“Let… let me know if I can help you, in any way,” he offered, eyes wandering over the contents of the manor’s main room.

Because he was a god of culture and travel, Xellis knew just about every dialect of every language. He cringed slightly at the words Scipio spat in Italian.
“I… I think it’s something called post-traumatic stress…,” Xellis said, although he seemed unsure. “I heard the goddess of fear talking about it one time. It’s… something that happens when a certain terrifying event stays with someone even after it’s over. I think? That’s what she had said. Although probably in more… elegant wording.”
He gave a small uncomfortable laugh. “It’s normal for humans who had a rough past. You shouldn’t think of yourself as weak.”
He paused for a moment, glancing over slightly.
“It doesn’t show that you’re weak. It shows that you’re strong enough to endure the hardship, even if it stays by your side… At least, that’s how I see it.”

“You think showing emotions is weak?” he muttered, clearly offended. Although, he was a complete hypocrite, considering he refrained from showing his emotions, too. Well, most of the time. But he wasn’t very good at it anyway.
“I think… I think people strong for being able to show them. It shows they’re comfortable enough in their own confidence to do so,” he said quietly, almost inaudible. But he spoke the words with truth.
He absolutely thought he was weak for not showing them. It had been something he’d beaten himself up about. But it’s difficult to change, especially for such an unstable and unpredictable god. At least, that’s what Zayanzar had told him when he opened up in just the slightest.
“And… fear’s only natural. You can’t blame yourself for feeling it,” he said, resting his cheek on one of his knees. “Everyone feels it. Even gods.”

“Show emotion? Or have another… scare?” Xellis asked, flitting over to meet Scipio’s eyes. “Because both are alright. You— We’ll get through them, right? I have faith in you.”
He paused briefly, flicking his eyes back to the floor.
“You’re a soldier. A strong one,” the god murmured. “And I have no doubt you’ll keep fighting. It’s honorable.”

“You’ll get there,” Xellis whispered. “I have no doubt in my mind… But then again, I’m just an ‘ignorant god’ who ‘doesn’t know mortal emotion,’” he said with a tone that made it seem as if he were quoting what someone had told him before. In reality, he was. Those biting words would never leave him.
He closed his eyes, the events of the day catching up with him. There was no trace of sarcastic glee or charm left on his face, just sort of a tired contentedness and concern for Scipio. He truly wished he knew how to help.

“Unfortunately, no. You don’t age here. Or that’s fortunate, but I don’t know how you see it,” he explained, eyes slowly blinking back open. “And, if you’re tired, feel free to go to sleep. It’s relatively late.”
He propped his head back up, eyes drifting over the chandelier only giving off a dim light. Otherwise, the large room was dark, the wooden flooring almost black with shadow.
“You can use my bed, again,” Xellis said, and while he would make a joke under any normal circumstance, he decided not too at the moment.
“Gods don’t need to sleep. We can get mentally exhausted, but we don’t need sleep to replenish it. Take as long as you’d like.”

Xellis watched Scipio walk off, through the door, and out of sight.
Had he done the wrong thing? He could offer the boy eternal piece as a hollow body. It wasn’t as bad as he had said…
Sure, the body was blind and deaf and roaming, but the soul was destroyed. Well— not so much destroyed as it was just “put to rest.”
But, for Xellis’ stupidly selfish reasons, he’d made it sound much worse so Scipio would actually decide to stay, on his own terms.
He was just a bad god. As bad of a god— as bad as a being— as the other gods really believed.
He stood in the dining room for a long while before heading out the front door, his fists clenched together.
Xellis jumped up onto the side of the manor’s terrace, scrambling up to the roof. It was anything but graceful, as he slid up onto the shingles. He lied back, gazing up to the stars covered slightly by shifting clouds.
And it was there he made up his mind. Tomorrow, when the boy woke up, Xellis would offer his soul peace. What it deserved. Where it belonged.
He let out a sigh, as if he had been holding it in his entire life. From here on out, he would try to devote himself from being a better person. It was impulsive, but in this situation, Xellis didn’t find impulsive to be so bad.

A knock sounded from outside the door, and Xellis slowly pushed it open. He looked visibly tired, but more mentally than physically. His eyes were much dimmer and held a pang of sorrow.
“Good morning,” he said, smiling softly while shutting the door behind him. He walked over to the armoire, beginning to sift through it again. Within a moment, he found his pilot’s cap, and slipped it back over the back of his head. He also drew out a small bag, that had buttons for eyes, small teeth protruding from the top flap, and a tongue acting as a belt. It chirped when Xellis took it out and slung it over his back.
“Arci, hush,” the god muttered, then turned back to Scipio.
“You ready to go?” he asked, little by little regaining his now fake joy.

“So you do remember my name,” Xellis laughed, although it seemed hasty and anxious. “And don’t worry about where— I just have a surprise.”
That surprise being eternity put to rest, buddy, he thought, his brow furrowing for a split second before he smacked on a joyful expression once more.
“You ready?” he asked again, not bothering to hide his impatience. He wanted to get this over with.

The god gave a long sigh, looking down to the floor. A wave of emotion washed over him and he had to blink away the water in his eyes. When he looked back up, he gave a half-hearted smile.
“I’m letting you go,” he said, his voice stronger than he thought it would be. “You’ll be able to rest, now. I’ll set peace to your soul. Now… are you ready?”

“I— but I can destroy your consciousness like you asked,” Xellis said, voice breaking slightly. Why was he being so stubborn? Isn’t this what he wanted??
“I can put it so that you won’t feel anything anymore— that you won’t even exist anymore,” he said slightly louder. “It’s— it’s what you asked for, right? You don’t have to deal with my stupidly selfish ideals anymore.”

“Oh, that’s a given fact,” Xellis said, letting out a slight laugh. “If they can even come up with better insults than the ones they have now…”
He said the last line much quieter, eyes averted to around his room. He took another deep breath, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“And again, thank you,” he mumbled, the words unnatural for his voice. “You’re doing something bigger than I could even ask. I mean— even if it’s for personal benefit.”

“Well of course,” Xellis said, as if it were a given. “You deserve a good afterlife, so take it.”
He stopped briefly, watching as one of Arci’s hands reached from one of the side pockets and began to play with Xellis’s hair. He narrowed his eyes but let it pass. He hadn’t seen Arci in a while, so he figured he’d let the bag mimic do what it wanted.
“Oh— but we still have to get you your own room, huh?” the god mumbled, clearly distracted by the bag. “Every associate has one. And.. I mean, I’d assume you’d want your privacy.”

“Nah, it’s sentient,” Xellis murmured, fighting the hand and making it go back into one of the side bags. “And his name is Arci. He’s a bag mimic. So basically a bag, but he can get me anything I want.”
The mimic gave off a small growl, sort of animalistic.
“He doesn’t bite unless you give him a reason,” Xellis continued. “So you can pet him, if you’d like.”
He flipped the bag around so he was holding it against his chest. He turned toward Scipio, giving a smile.
“Go ahead,” he said lightly.