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Necessary murder and dead gods
[ooc: In which Jeff reflects on the events of the fic, Spell for Giving Life to the Lord of Souls, in which certain mysteries are revealed, and many more are left to decipher.]
I keep staring at me hands, just like I did back when I first got me powers. Everything feels strange now. I feel even more alienated from the other gods because I'm dead now. There aren't many of us who know those mysteries. Not even Amun knows them, and I thought he knew everything.
Shiva killed me, of course. Was it necessary? I still struggle with that. I wasn't killed - nicely. I suffered for so long before he finally killed me. I still bear those scars and wounds, and they remind me of what happened. I look at me hands, and I can see those wounds where he - the pain felt so very different as a god. Pain never felt that bad as a human. I bled, in a manner of speaking. My lifeforce was drained in a cruel torment until I finally had none left. That was when I died.
I still feel like it was all a senseless waste. I can't find any reason for why it was done in such a brutal way. I feel even less sure of myself than I did before. There is no Shangri-La, no little universe to care for and no friends. Everything I love has been destroyed, and I was killed, and I just don't know what to do.
Wesir said his death was necessary for mortals to have an afterlife. I've been talking to him a lot since I died. But I can't make sense of my own death. I'm not as important as Wesir. I'm just a little god, with only a handful of followers. What does a god like me do after they are killed? I can't fathom any reason for this.
Amun suggested it was necessary to make me realise my true purpose. He said maybe I was meant to be a dead god, a lord of souls, who builds sanctuaries for the dead and lost. But I don't know. I don't have a pantheon to call home. There are no other gods who came with me. It's just me and Amun and Wesir. They call me Weredjuenibwy, the weary one of the two hearts, and claim me as their own, but it doesn't feel like home, not really.
I still struggle to see it as murder, too. Shiva murdered me. Shiva came there to murder me. It implies a certain amount of deliberate action that I'm not ready to deal with. Murder. No. He would never, not my Shiva, not George -
But it weren't even George, it were the boy, his son, so full of rage. That was how Shiva appeared to me when he came to kill me. I can only conceive of it as a mask, or I'll go mad thinkin' they hated me that much they'd kill me for no reason.
[Jeff shivers inwardly, unwilling to revisit the memory.]
I don't know why Shiva did this. I don't know why any of this happened to me. They made me a god, and then they killed me. They killed me. And now I'm a dead god who doesn't know what to do. I have no role, no court, no purpose. I live, have been given life in the face of death, and I feel even more isolated than I did before. I don't know what to do, and I'm not sure how to deal with any of this. Perhaps if my death hadn't felt like such a terrible betrayal, perhaps I'd know what to do. If I knew it served some concrete purpose like Wesir's death, maybe I could make sense of it. But I can't. I don't know why Shiva has done this to me, and I'm not sure I ever will.
Muse: Jeff Lynne
Fandom: Electric Light Orchestra RPF AU
Word Count: 653 (Look, three digits!)
Disclaimer: Complete work of fiction
Warnings: Some vague(ish) descriptions of murder and what amounts to torture.
I keep staring at me hands, just like I did back when I first got me powers. Everything feels strange now. I feel even more alienated from the other gods because I'm dead now. There aren't many of us who know those mysteries. Not even Amun knows them, and I thought he knew everything.
Shiva killed me, of course. Was it necessary? I still struggle with that. I wasn't killed - nicely. I suffered for so long before he finally killed me. I still bear those scars and wounds, and they remind me of what happened. I look at me hands, and I can see those wounds where he - the pain felt so very different as a god. Pain never felt that bad as a human. I bled, in a manner of speaking. My lifeforce was drained in a cruel torment until I finally had none left. That was when I died.
I still feel like it was all a senseless waste. I can't find any reason for why it was done in such a brutal way. I feel even less sure of myself than I did before. There is no Shangri-La, no little universe to care for and no friends. Everything I love has been destroyed, and I was killed, and I just don't know what to do.
Wesir said his death was necessary for mortals to have an afterlife. I've been talking to him a lot since I died. But I can't make sense of my own death. I'm not as important as Wesir. I'm just a little god, with only a handful of followers. What does a god like me do after they are killed? I can't fathom any reason for this.
Amun suggested it was necessary to make me realise my true purpose. He said maybe I was meant to be a dead god, a lord of souls, who builds sanctuaries for the dead and lost. But I don't know. I don't have a pantheon to call home. There are no other gods who came with me. It's just me and Amun and Wesir. They call me Weredjuenibwy, the weary one of the two hearts, and claim me as their own, but it doesn't feel like home, not really.
I still struggle to see it as murder, too. Shiva murdered me. Shiva came there to murder me. It implies a certain amount of deliberate action that I'm not ready to deal with. Murder. No. He would never, not my Shiva, not George -
But it weren't even George, it were the boy, his son, so full of rage. That was how Shiva appeared to me when he came to kill me. I can only conceive of it as a mask, or I'll go mad thinkin' they hated me that much they'd kill me for no reason.
[Jeff shivers inwardly, unwilling to revisit the memory.]
I don't know why Shiva did this. I don't know why any of this happened to me. They made me a god, and then they killed me. They killed me. And now I'm a dead god who doesn't know what to do. I have no role, no court, no purpose. I live, have been given life in the face of death, and I feel even more isolated than I did before. I don't know what to do, and I'm not sure how to deal with any of this. Perhaps if my death hadn't felt like such a terrible betrayal, perhaps I'd know what to do. If I knew it served some concrete purpose like Wesir's death, maybe I could make sense of it. But I can't. I don't know why Shiva has done this to me, and I'm not sure I ever will.
Muse: Jeff Lynne
Fandom: Electric Light Orchestra RPF AU
Word Count: 653 (Look, three digits!)
Disclaimer: Complete work of fiction
Warnings: Some vague(ish) descriptions of murder and what amounts to torture.