a little taste [cowt11 | week 04 | m1]

[hannyakoma]

Prompt: Avarizia

Word count: 1050
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Originale
Note: //

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Gods wish for nothing, neither own anything.

The Underworld has always been depicted as a dark, cold, terrible place for a soul to end up in. As much as death was a part of life itself, everyone -- people, heroes, creatures and gods alike -- could not accept it as such.

His job was supposed to be taking care of the eternal souls of the mortals that ended up in his realm, sooner or later, but after eons of doing exactly the same thing over and over again, it was natural to become bored with the task. Yet, the Ruler of the Underworld could not just stop doing his job: as fun as it would be, to watch the mortal realm become filled with angry spirits, weeping spirits, vengeful spirits, it would reflect badly on his otherwise perfect composure.

And yet, the Lord of Hades could not find peace. Even if he had the delightful company of his rowdy companions, he always felt like missing something important. He had always… wished for something more. Something whose nature was still missing, eluding him like the last vestiges of a dream.

As he sat on his throne, overseeing the endless flow of souls that were sent over by Thanatos invisible hands, he let his mind venture to analyze his current situation. Was he unsatisfied with his task? Not really, his job was an easy one, albeit boring. Did he regret choosing to serve as a guardian over the dead? A soul was a soul, no matter if it was held in by the flesh. And a god as he was, he clearly didn’t show any favoritism.

After all, what was the difference between being alive and being dead to the divine?

He left such semantics to the little, mortal fellow that spiraled down into the core and into the oblivion, waiting for being reincarnated. Why they bothered, honestly, he didn’t even know.

Such was his life. Such has always been…

Until one specific moment, just one instant in the eternal flow of time that passed before his eyes, an insignificant something caught his attention. At the beginning of it all, the Lord had just dismissed it as a little past time to fight the utter boredom of his job: a curious, little wandering soul, shining a tad weirdly. Long fingers dipped in the spiritual flow of souls and fished it up to get a closer look.

It had been a very old soul, that one. Definitely a rare one, even in the eyes of someone like himself. 

Souls were usually wiped clean in his realm before being sent back in the world of the living, to make a fresh new start. However, all of them began losing their natural shine after being in the cycle of life and death for so long--thus, such a soul whose light hadn’t dimmed despite its age… kind of intrigued him.

Again, he thought at it being just a way to fight off boredom. Yet, he still kept that same soul at his side, allowing it to take its once human shape. In the realms beyond “form” was an unneeded concept, per se; nonetheless, imagination and old habits often created “images” of what once had been.

In the soul’s case, beautiful waves that held the colors of autumn framed a pallid face, lovely and oval shaped, enriched by delicate features and tantalizing, soft-looking lips. The ruler had long passed the time where he felt any kind of attraction beyond the aesthetic, and yet… the figure brought before his eyes by Fate itself, could only be called divine. 

Even as the creature simply stared in his general direction with unfocused eyes, two breathtaking jewels shining like emeralds, the Lord couldn’t look away.

He didn’t realize on the spot, but that was the exact moment things had changed. A minuscule part of him had instantly grown infatuated with the sight, an even smaller part in that nameless need feeling oddly fulfilled.

Gods wish for nothing, neither own anything.

The Underworld has always been depicted as a dark, cold, terrible place for a soul to end up in. Yet, over the uncountable decades, centuries, ever since one particular moment, it became an actual hell for anyone and everyone passing by it. Or better said, entering the realm of the dead and being unable to leave.

Many of the other mightier gods couldn’t understand what brought their fellow god to such a strong, unexpected behavior. Each soul he welcomed was robbed of something -- its “shine”, as one could say, meaning the drive to live a fulfilling life, to follow their passions and to look forward to a bright future. Others might even call it life itself, or potential. That same something being then locked away, in some treasure hoarding, mortal fashion that the divine should have never considered in the slightest.

Yet, the Lord of Hades himself had done so. One fragment of time after the other, he began wishing for more, greeding for something that should have never been his in the first place, steadfast and unrepentant. 

When the mightier deities descended into the Underworld, the whole place thrummed with unknown energy -- dare one say, a lively energy -- that transpired from each and every fragment of space. They clearly felt it, the abnormality in that place, and in equal part grew slightly intoxicated by the feeling of lightness that came with it in each breath they took.

“My dearest siblings, isn’t it wonderful? To just let go of that pompous strictness and partake in a feast like this?” the Underworld Lord had asked them all, greeting each and every figure with a sneer that delivered a deeper meaning than his words. 

Hoarding souls’ possibilities, favors. Their destiny itself, if one so wished to call it. 

Those laid in crystallized forms in a realm where they didn’t belong, where “concepts” and “forms” shouldn’t exist, like shining jewels in the treasure room of mortal royalty. No matter how many of those he managed to collect over the centuries, it never felt enough. He needed more, more ancient souls that still held the same powerful energy and beauty that made his eternal heartache lessen.

Because sometimes, one simple taste of temptation is already too much.