Blackfeather Woods And I don't know where I'm gonna go

rowan's question is met with khepri's silence. as for who controls the world ...he couldn't rightly say. no one, he supposes. as for who made them — in a more literal sense his mothers. my mothers made me. while his conception was a bit more complex than that and involved a sire — one that unbeknownst to khepri he and rowan share — khepri doesn't know that; probably wouldn't care anyway. the suns of his life — and moon of his life — were all he needed in parental figures. men had never really been in that equation. why does it have to be any more than there? religion sounded complex. and exhausting.

and ...frankly, he wanted that damned jawbone.

does he? khepri asks bluntly, brow furrowing in unbiased disbelief. then how come he killed both of maegi's sons? he wants to ask but doesn't. but, the existence of jaes wasn't really want khepri was questioning here. he was drawing the similarities and finds that he shares qualities with the proclaimed god. it was uncanny and spooky. spookier than the vision that was a near constant companion to him. lapis lazuli gaze focuses on rowan then, flickering down to the jawbone before it follows a trail back up to rowan's face.

if its favors you want ...i could take the jawbone in exchange for a favor. khepri offers, figuring he's played enough. something of equal value to it, of course. he adds pompously. you'll get more satisfying results from being owed a favor from me than jaes. a confident statement spoken in a low purl that a crossroads demon would use as he holds out a contract to be signed.

nanowrimo: 288