The Dark Deity knew a lot about Ittoku Kuniomi, more than they should, more than most of Itto’s friends probably knew about him. They knew more about Itto than any other human in this world, currently, and it was for one reason only.
Itto prayed in the Dark Shrine daily.
Even in Razlok’s absence they’d absorbed so much knowledge about Itto’s life and struggles simply because the man prayed so consistently.
The Dark Shrine was an extension of the divine themselves, and although every prayer in the world was heard by the transcendent Dark, Razlok in their human form heard the prayers thought or uttered in the Dark Shrine of the Guild.
Without effort, Razlok could recall whispered prayers of the Guild after the Dark Deity’s “death,” how they prayed for Razlok’s return, how their prayers dwindled as the years dragged on.
Five-hundred and forty-three years of worship and petition rested just outside of Razlok’s skull, ready at any moment to present the correct knowledge. All that time lost, but the world didn’t forget the Dark Deity. It changed how they conceptualized them.
Cities and nations alike looked to their religions and shifted their beliefs to match the modern times, to match Auron’s presence and Razlok’s absence.
Hokuyamakai was Itto’s homeland, a mountainous chain of islands just off the northern coastline. They had always resisted the ‘new’ way of thinking, choosing to retain tradition and their culture rather than bend to the whims of outsiders.
Even a lifetime ago, neither of the deities were called by their names – Auron and, at the time, Skuirus – while in Hokuyamakai. It was either Radiance or Ink-Maker, the two mythological divines that survived through the test of time.
( Radiance was a beautiful woman who performed a legendary dance and song of her own creation, weaving a poem that entranced Life itself. She glowed brilliantly, more and more the performance continued, until her body was consumed by light and she became the sun. Ink-Maker was blinded by this performance, but he steadfastly gathered up the ashes of Radiance and used them to make a heavenly ink. With this ink, he created the world from the words Radiance sang, mirroring her poetry on the very landscape. )
There was no room in Hokuyamakai for any divines but Radiance and Ink-Maker, regardless of Light and Dark taking human form.
Human cultures existed and thrived for thousands of years before Light and Dark decided to step onto the ground with new bodies. As far as Hokuyamakai believed, these were reincarnations of their personal divines.
Neither Auron nor Razlok ever intended to correct these cultures, nor did they want to change any existing beliefs.
There had always been Light and Dark, and as Divines outside of human perception, they acted in mysterious, often enigmatic ways.
They were in human form to respect and learn about the world they’d created, not force belief into an unyielding mold.
So they were indeed, Radiance and Ink-Maker, and they were also Auron and Razlok. Multifaceted with many names.
As such, Itto prayed to both Ink-Maker and to the Dark.
There was a process he followed daily. A coin left in an offering box, a bow to the stone-altar that served as a focal point, a particular way of kneeling with his hands on his thighs. He recited a set of prayers in a cyclical order – good fortune, good health, community, fulfillment, relief from burdens – and added on daily tasks of importance, especially guidance for any acts of creation or performances.
The appeals to Ink-Maker were structured, simple, and formalized.
Hokuyamakai culture was not forgiving to those who broke traditions or who disobeyed the order of the land, and Itto had done both of those things.
If not for the weight of the Guild of the Divines’ Authority and pressures from Radiance herself – Auron, in his role as Radiance – Itto would still be imprisoned, rather than living in exile.
He was bound forever to Ink-Maker, but it was Itto’s worship of the Dark that gave him freedom to live and love as he pleased.
Razlok felt such joy and pride to witness Itto in the flesh finally.
There were so many years of suffering that the man pushed through, so much trauma to undo until Itto could be the Seat of Metal as he was today.
Surely Razlok could not suppress their affection, their fondness for the man. It showed even as Itto turned to face the deity, wiggling the keys to one of the guest quarters tantalizingly.
“It’s you and me,” the man teased.
Razlok smiled, their heart still warmed from reminiscing, and the smile only encouraged Itto’s playful tone.
“Should we go see which room Gwenllian picked for you? I bet it’s the Carnelian room.”
Itto leaned over toward Razlok conspiratorially. “She has a cute habit of giving people things based on a color she associates with them. Elias had green hair for a month and he is still getting green-themed gifts.”
“Oh, aye?” The deity countered with a wide grin. “Can ye keep an eye out for me then? If she changes me from a good color to her least favorite color, I should probably buy flowers. Either as a gift or for my own grave.”
Stolen novel; please report.
The outline of Itto’s shoulders shook with his laughter, and he gave a friendly smack to Razlok’s shoulder. “I like you. Can we keep you? Fun and talented. I watched a good portion of your work on Kian’s leg. Are you planning on staying after you finish the job?”
Razlok nodded. “Hope for it, but won’t be sure ‘til the Light returns.”
The deity was desperately trying not to think of the possible timeline where Auron didn’t want them back, that they were rejected and sent away.
“The timing of today’s events is unfortunate for you, but I’m sure you understand that it was bad for everyone.”
The deity didn’t reply, just observing Itto toss the keys from hand to hand. The man seemed to be thinking hard about something. In Razlok’s perception, all they could see were the outlines of Itto’s muscular shoulders and back where his magic sat, and the erratic motion of the keys.
They knew from the prayers that Itto was a maker, specifically a blacksmith who specialized in forging enchanted goods.
Razlok was surprised that Itto didn’t have a magical weapon on him, honestly. Perhaps today proved to be distracting in many ways.
“Are you hungry?” came the query.
“Starved,” Razlok answered immediately. They certainly hadn’t eaten today… or in the last few centuries.
Itto stopped fooling around with the key and seemed to nod, judging by the movement of his shoulders. “Perfect. It’s getting late, you worked at minimum an hour on Kian’s leg. Someone needs to pay you back.”
He didn’t mention that Elias and Rose were asleep, having passed out in their emotional distress.
Elias was prone to having strong feelings or at least experiencing feelings more intensely. Rose simply loved very deeply, and Auron was not exempt to her affections just because her magic was aligned with the Dark. They both were cuddled up in Rose’s quarters, resting well.
That left Itto free to do as he pleased. He wasn’t numb or calloused to Auron’s passing; he simply wasn’t worried at the moment. Perhaps tomorrow would bring some more tangible grief, but today Itto felt like he needed to do something.
“Any preferences?” Itto asked politely.
He knew that a few of the Guild members, Auron included, had restricted diets. It was a fairly common problem to have, even if some people simply chalked up their distressed gut to coincidence rather than seeing a pattern.
“I’ll eat anything.” They weren’t picky and the Dark rarely got sick. Even poisons or toxins affected them less than the average person. Unfortunately, this included recreational toxins like alcohol, too.
An affirmative grunt came from Itto along with another strong nod. That seemed to be a quirk of his.
The man turned as if to leave but stopped almost instantly. His body language indicated he was stuck between thoughts, though Itto soon hazarded a question in a careful tone.
”I apologize if this is inappropriate but– You are blind, correct? Would it help if you held onto me as we navigate the city? Or would you rather walk behind me?”
Razlok almost laughed, the gesture was so sincere and genuine and well-timed.
They were starting to feel their energy dwindle. The magical storm and figurative rebirth had drawn from their energy as a human, not the Divine power above. They used energy with their perception, a constant drain on their stockpile.
And, if their stored energy had been more than halfway depleted before assisting Kian, it was certainly dipping dangerously low.
If they burned their remainder on their perception and walking or behaving independently, they would likely run dry before the end of the night, which would be far more frustrating.
”It would help, if ye dinnae mind. I can usually manage but… long day.”
It would be different if they were truly complete strangers but Razlok trusted Itto.
Their hand was guided to Itto’s upper arm, held out as if the man intended to lead the deity to a ballroom. Razlok would have commented jokingly on the pose, if it wasn’t for the tactile presence of Itto’s arm under their fingertips.
Fuck. Razlok had thoroughly and completely forgotten that Itto was a blacksmith.
They didn’t possess the sight to realize that the Seat of Metal was by necessity muscular, especially in the upper body. It took far more self-control than Razlok was comfortable admitting for the deity to avoid squeezing Itto’s arm to check out the strength there.
The pair exchanged some niceties as they left the Guild, which was about the level of conversation Razlok could manage until they’d pushed questions of biceps and muscles out of their mind. Seemingly none the wiser, Itto reassured them that the pub wasn’t very far, the walk would be short.
It took only a few minutes for Razlok’s assumption to be proven wrong. Itto definitely noticed the deity’s tension, though he didn’t comment directly.
”I feel like my job tonight is to tempt you into staying at the Guild, so that we keep your excellent skills and hands.”
The remarks were delivered so casually that Razlok almost missed the last little curious hint.
Perhaps Itto did actually mean hands, in a mundane, professional way. The work Razlok performed on the prosthetic was very intricate and took a lot of finesse to do correctly, even for a deity.
”Sounds as if ye have a plan for me already,” they mused, hoping that Itto would explain more, would elaborate on the exact nature of the remark.
”For the Guild, or for myself?”
That was a tease. Itto’s tone made it clear, though he was playfully skirting around the implications of what the next step would be.
“You’re a clever one,” Razlok added dryly, though their mouth upturned in a smile. “Thought you’re married?”
A quick answer from Itto: “Who said I was flirting?”
The deity sighed in mild exasperation. They knew Itto too well to play this game of pretend. “Yer plan for me then?”
”Have dinner then see what happens.”
Flirt, Razlok chided the man silently, though their verbal reply indicated their amusement. “Ye always so friendly, or is this specifically for me?”
Itto hardly paused, a charismatic response waiting on his tongue. “Which answer do you prefer?”
“The one that gives me food.” Razlok didn’t try and shy away from their honesty, in that they really did need to eat.
They did add on a little something for Itto, though: “And then we see what happens.”
The Seat of Metal was the one laughing this time. It felt contagious, it felt warm and welcoming.
Today had been filled with so much grief and sorrow, it was nice for Razlok to remember how much fun humanity could be.
“Do ye always flirt so quickly with strangers?” The question was genuine, Razlok was curious.
Another affirmative grunt from Itto. Probably a nod too. “If they react poorly, I would rather be thirty seconds into the date and only a short walk from home, than waste several hours of my time on an asshole.”
Razlok couldn’t argue with that logic. To the deity’s knowledge, Itto was queer and polyamorous in some manner. It probably served him well to weed out the bad dates early on than waste his time.
“Cannae promise I’m nae an asshole, but the banter is fun.”
They didn’t want to remark on the subject of this being a date. It wasn’t a date, right? Was it a date?
Oh, no. Embarrassment wasn’t a thing Razlok felt about intimacy, but they were slightly concerned with the whole lying to Itto’s face about who they were becoming a roadblock to healthy communication.
After contemplating, Itto gave a gentle response. “Kian is reluctant to ask for help from her friends, even if she’s in pain. That means you, a stranger, had to willingly volunteer and possibly insist that you help her.”
The man reached up to pat Razlok’s hand. “You are not a bad person.”
The deity replied with an indignant noise at the praise, caught entirely too off-guard to acknowledge the truth openly.
Itto needed to stop being so endearing, or Razlok’s crush would flourish into something else.
Blessedly, Itto announced their arrival at the pub. Razlok could already smell food, and their stomach grumbled loudly.
They had no idea how they would deal with the flirtatious man or this fake date, but Razlok could figure it out after putting some food in their belly.