Cas awoke before dawn, the gentle cooing of xir doves soothing xir awake before the unhinged peeping of xir finches began.

The birds were good companions, the only ones that Cas really wanted or needed in this life.

Xie could get all the socialization xie wanted with the Guild, either in the archives or through the Guild members at large.

But Cas valued xir personal space above everything else, which meant no roommates, even platonic ones.

Xie did, however, live among the other Seats. They were the privileged few, as it were, to have their quarters located alongside Auron’s.

In the far-flung past, the Seats served as protectors of the deity. Now, they were companions, confidants, advisors.

Cas liked having the others as xir neighbors. It was convenient when xie had a late-night question about one of their specialties.

The Seat of Wind dressed and left xir rooms to fetch an early morning pot of tea. The day occurred in late spring, early summer. Thus, it required a tea befitting the season.

Cas returned from the kitchens downstairs with a tea service, including these delightful sweet cakes xie was gifted by an old friend. Xie took the lift back upstairs to the oval-shaped foyer, stepping out into the middle of the room carefully as to not disturb their tray.

There was a door open at the far end of the hall.

Auron’s door.

The quarters of the Seats opened into the oval foyer, with one end reserved for Auron. His balcony overlooked the rising sun, the dawn; the empty quarters on the opposite end had the best view of sunset and the dusk.

Cas froze in terror as xie realized there was a figure leaning against the door frame of Auron’s room, the rising sun creating a near-black silhouette of the being.

It wasn’t Auron, Cas didn’t think. This figure was taller, broader than Cas ever knew Auron to be.

Xie stood there in confusion until xir curiosity grew strong enough to outweigh the fear. Maybe it was Auron. He had to choose a new body when he was reborn, right?

“Auron?” Xie called out hesitantly.

The figure’s head snapped toward Cas as soon as xie spoke, and before xie could say anything more, they vanished, fading into smoke in front of Cas’ eyes.

More than a little shaken, the Seat of Wind waited to see if the figure would return, if this was a ghost or a spirit, or perhaps some magical illusion. Nothing.

With the steadfast determination of a researcher, Cas set the tea tray down and approached Auron’s quarters.

There was nothing special about the doorway, no cold spots, no traces of smoke or dust to indicate the figure had been there. Unless…

Cas touched the door frame; it was warm.

Something had been here.

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Itto flicked through his closet at the early hours of the morning, first choosing an outfit for himself, then seeing if there was anything slightly larger that he could loan out to the Dark Deity.

His morning routine was consistent, as steadfast as the man himself. First, he would dress in his usual attire – loose, comfortable clothes fit for the hard labor of blacksmith work, or simple shirts and trousers in neutral colors.

Then, the little accessories were added. Like Razlok, both Itto and Elias had pierced ears, though the style in which they were pierced differed.

Itto had a scaffolding piercing on both his ears, as well as your basic lobe. He put those in – Itto wore dark-tinted metal instead of Elias’ preferred shining silver and colorful adornments – and finished off his outfit with some practical boots.

He kept rummaging through his closet for a while longer, thinking about what he wanted to bring to Razlok.

It was a fun game of Dress Your Divine that Itto was playing, and the options truly were endless. Rather selfishly, the man chose a loose blue shirt with short sleeves and a pair of dark trousers to go with them.

Auburn hair always looked good with blues and greens, and Itto was admittedly curious about the tattoos Razlok had. The shirt was loose on Itto, but given that Razlok was four or five inches taller, it would be tighter on them.

Itto smiled, a bit devilishly. He knew good and well what he was doing.

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He folded the clothing neatly and quietly, setting it down for one last task before he could head to the shrine to pray.

The Seat of Metal and Lightning were married. Their quarters had been combined into one large living area, and they were sure to get an extra-large bed given their tendency to acquire new partners every so often.

This bed was useful when Rose slept over, as she did occasionally, as she did now. She was sprawled out on her back, nude and barely covered by blankets since her internal fire kept her warm, her curly hair in a messy bun that had nearly unraveled overnight.

She was snoring, which didn’t seem to be a deterrent to Elias, however.

When Itto left the bed for his morning routine, Elias tended to bundle up in the covers like a little caterpillar looking to become a chrysalis.

But when Rose was around, Elias fixated on her body heat even while unconscious. He was dead asleep, his arm flailed over her chest, hand nearly in her face, his leg nearly kneeing her in the process.

All you could see under the covers was the shock of dyed blue-green hair of the man and the two limbs protruding out of the blankets.

Itto chuckled at the sight, pressing Elias’ hair down and squeezing his hand, awkwardly placed as it may be. Since Rose was more exposed, she received a kiss to the forehead.

Her snores stopped momentarily as she roused, but only to turn on her side and smother Elias with her chest.

They didn’t move again, even as Itto closed the door. Silly creatures. It was hard being a morning person in a house full of night owls.

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Silver worked the afternoon-evening shift at the front desk, which meant he didn’t need to be at work until much later in the day.

Yet, here he was, sorting through paperwork.

He couldn’t sleep. The news of Auron’s passing was stressful in that Silver didn’t quite know what it meant, long term. Were there any repercussions for the future of the Guild? If other nations realized that Auron could die, would they be attacked?

Grumbling at the world, Silver tied his locs back and used the small appliances of the bar to make water for coffee and tea.

Hartley arrived not long after Silver poured his first cup of the day. She looked at him quizzically, her unusual amber-yellow eyes glancing over the man to see if he was sick or something.

“Good morning?” She asked in the tone of someone who knew already that the morning was Not Good.

Silver groaned theatrically, holding up his coffee to his mouth as an excuse not to speak.

He looked just as moody as he sounded gripping that mug, his hand covered in metal rings depicting animal skulls and card suits or embedded with red and black stones.

“Tough night, love?” Hartley continued prying with a saccharine smile.

She was a good, sweet, well-loved person. She was also Silver’s best friend and it was her sworn duty to give him shit whenever she could.

The gambler threw her the most exasperated look.

Here was Hartley, wearing a flowing white skirt, elegant dandelion yellow top that tied around her neck, a dark green capelet (they were “for color” as she often defended herself), and a Divine-cursed sunhat for Dark’s sake, and she had the nerve to stand there and tease Silver being less than suited for the mornings.

“How do you wake up this early and manage to put on makeup? Braid your hair?”

Hartley smiled an enigmatic smile, tossing her long auburn braid over her shoulder in a way she knew would annoy Silver. “Oh, you know.”

Silver’s face slipped from confusion directly into overacted annoyance. Regardless, he nodded over his shoulder. “There’s water on for tea. It’s hot.”

“Thanks, Silver.” Hartley leaned down to plant a kiss on the man’s cheek, and he chose to ignore it.

She was wearing heels.

It wasn’t even 8 AM and the woman was wearing heels.

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From the guest rooms, Razlok could hear Itto praying in the Dark Shrine, though they could have chosen not to pay attention to it. The prayers were like whispers in the back of Razlok’s skull, something that could be pushed outside of their consciousness but otherwise unobtrusive background sounds.

The prayers were pretty normal for Itto’s usual structure, but at the end Razlok heard a direct comment.

If you can hear me, I have clothes for you.

Oh, that would be useful. Razlok hauled themselves off the bed, already dressed but looking forward to seeing what Itto wanted.

I’m at the shrine.

Silence now from the praying Itto, who undoubtedly realized how silly it was to specify where he was praying. Where else would he be praying?

The wing of guest accommodations and meeting rooms wasn’t far from the dining hall or the front hall. It took Razlok practically no time to make their way to meet Itto.

They nodded at the two bickering humans at the front desk as they passed by, pointing wordlessly to the shrine as an explanation.

When Razlok entered, Itto was seated inside on a bench, seemingly meditating.

“Dinnae usually make personal visits, but I can make an exception for ye,” Razlok teased. They found the folded clothes easily in this space, this shrine where their perception was effortless to maintain.

Itto was actually meditating, it seemed, which meant Razlok took these few moments to change clothes.

But the deity was correct in assuming that Itto would be conveniently done and alert before Razlok finished entirely. The Seat of Metal shifted gently out of his meditative stance to turn his head toward Razlok, who was buttoning up the shirt at the moment.

“It fits well,” Itto said lightheartedly, getting up to help Razlok with the buttons.

Did Razlok need the help? No. Did they like the attention? Absolutely.

“Needs something,” the deity mused quietly, trying to behave so early in the morning, even though Itto was right there and very close.

They flicked their hand as if shaking out a piece of fabric, and a set of leather suspenders materialized into place. It took only a few moments to put them on – Itto was so helpful, with no motivations at all – but Razlok felt a little better with them on. Something about having either a waistcoat or suspenders on felt comforting in this body.

“Appreciate the help,” Razlok said, running a hand over Itto’s arm affectionately.

Itto gave an unnecessary explanation, as if reminding himself of his priorities. “I have to go – Seats have a meeting after breakfast, and I need to rouse my two.”

The man failed to move, failed to leave. As if on impulse, Itto hurriedly pushed forward to kiss Razlok on the lips, a hand on the deity’s cheek ever so briefly.

“Consider it an offering. It is your shrine, after all.”

Razlok chose not to say anything, only smiled. If they said anything, it would have tempted Itto into staying, and even the deity didn’t trust their own self-control at this moment. When Itto left, they let out a sigh.

Fates, the human was far too sweet. Itto was going to spoil them.