“... I must say, you do not appear to be as surprised as one would presume you’d be.”  

Well, it was not as if he wasn’t “surprised.” The spontaneous appearance of a god would alarm... just about anyone, he reckoned, celestial upbringing or otherwise. However, since arriving in this realm, Jevon has been readying himself for this exact moment. It was but a matter of inevitability, after all— Jevon was an outsider, a heavenly deserter— who crash-landed into the dominion of another deity without warning or justification. 

 Rather, what concerned him was the fact that the god had only chosen to reveal herself to him now as opposed to… the last decade of his unasked presence freely violating her plains— unless it was simply a consequence of tardiness, which he sorely doubted. So, wondered if he unknowingly overstepped any such divine boundaries— or if she possibly desired something from him. Most likely the latter. 

Regardless, Jevon smartly put himself on the defense, ensuring there was a comfortable amount of space between them and maintaining unflinching eye contact... even if his gut felt as if it would implode from the sheer pressure of her penetrating gaze.  

 Shrouded in a halo of moonlight, the god possessed an otherworldly beauty to her. As he familiarized himself with her selected form, he couldn’t help but draw comparisons— her raven hair, facial structure— and most notably, her divine eyes— shaded an empyreal gold, echoed that of... no, he put the brakes on that thought process and refocused himself on the task at hand, coughing into his hand for good measure. With forced sangfroid, he countered her former statement.  

“... I had an inkling that you and I would inevitably cross paths, so long as I remained in Igerene, anyway... Of course, I understand that you must have been watching me for some time now.”  

“Naturally. Did you expect me to turn a blind eye after the disciple of another god so imperiously encroached into my domain? Though, we both know that it was no mere coincidence that your journey led you here, Prince of the Stars— and into the arms of my chosen pupil, no less,” pupil, he echoed in his brain— of course, he knew that the Crown Prince, like his lauded ancestor, were the chosen progenies of the heavens, or rather, of Antares. 

Of course, for a supernatural being such as himself, he was the sole person in this world who could accurately distinguish mythos and truth, and for this case in particular, he was loath to say it was indeed the latter. Bound to an unshakable destiny, and branded gold as evidence— these individuals were fated for glory and godhood... but such was the extent of his knowledge— the extent at which the arid archives of his prior incarnation’s limited memory was disposed to offer, at least. 

 “... Well, of course, your union with my scion... that was but a matter of kismet as well, I suppose. In which case, I suppose our contact is long overdue… I will say that I have my reasons for failing to reach out sooner, but we shall put that aside for now,” Antares continued; and as she pranced closer to him, her dress billowed behind her like a stream of ethereal clouds, her footwork a graceful waltz. In that phantom of an instance, Jevon counted the stars in her eyes— tiny, infinitesimal shimmers within pools of melted gold, curtained by dark, elegant eyelashes— temporarily memorized, the image of another briefly flashing before him.

 However, he managed to shake himself out of it and recreated their distance, and he dared to call the fleeting micro-expression that emerged on her face as... something equivalent to a sullen pout. With a huff, Antares lassoed her arms around her back and began to wander around in a circle.  

“... Well, returning to what we were previously discussing... Prince of the Stars...  You must have noticed it by now, haven’t you?” Antares’ pacing came to a steady halt as she tilted her chin upward— it was a cloudless night, stars aggregating around the brilliant, cerulean moon in cosmic rings. 

“... Of course, due to the extended amount of time you’ve spent among the mortals, your soul has reformed itself to better suit its surroundings. I would say that, physiologically, you’re not that different from your terrestrial kindred. Albeit spiritually... well, regardless of how desperately you try to deny it, you are still the remnant fragment of a once mighty power... Mediator of the realms, who ruled over our godly abode... and proxy of our Great Mother, Eden. In terms of appearance, at least, you are their spitting image.”  

Choosing silence, Jevon lowered his head, familiarizing himself with the lacerations in the pavement, weathered down by age and longtime neglect, sneaky foliage worming through. He could feel the censorious gaze of the god upon him— like a guardian who had caught their offspring with a hand in the snack jar past midnight, but the weight of it was almost unbearable, a crushing boulder. After an interim of contemplation, she returned to leisurely pacing and continued.  

“... And with the death of their providential light, as has the stability of the cosmos. As they were the foundation that instilled order and harmony— a beam of support, you could even say... Without stability, even the mightiest of strongholds can fall. In that sense, without their structure... mortals and gods alike... we now teeter on the edge of complete and utter disorder—” 

“And yet,” she spun around on her heel, facing Jevon directly once again, thrusting a finger of accusation in his direction. “You have done nothing,” she stomped toward him, and Jevon felt the earth shaking beneath him; he had heard tales of the great war god who leveled mountains and drained seas, and what he considered ridiculous allegories, he found himself wholeheartedly believing at this moment. Jevon almost went careening when she entered his bubble and this time, he was frozen in place— a meek mouse to a vicious dragon.  

“... To alter your fate. As the sole survivor of that horrific tragedy, you have opted to cower away like a frightened child instead of taking responsibility as their prince— as their successor. Don’t you understand? Without structure, all will cease to function as it should. Chaos and death will run rampant through the streets, begotten by your carelessness... Tell me: do you truly believe that you’ve managed to fool them with this disreputable charade of yours?” 

“Stop,” he pleaded, averting his eyes, arms squeezing around himself like a protective blanket. “I... I have already dismissed that part of myself. I don’t... I do not want anything else to do with this! Not after… all of the sins I have committed….”  

“... No matter how sincerely you crave it, you will never be a part of humanity nor its cycle,” and Jevon hardly needed the heavens to point that out to him— he knew that he was a peculiarity, a stranger— undesired by the stars and hated by the earth. He could wear their clothes, recreate their emotions, immerse himself in their history, and enjoy amiability and friendship— but at the end of the day, he was the lingering remains of a ruptured planet, floating pointlessly through the endless vacuum of space. 

… And yet, the reality was harsher than he imagined when it was at last spoken aloud. Jevon hugged himself with a tightness that was not unlike a turtle seeking to retreat back into its shell, letting out a tight, shuddersome breath— one that seemed to resonate with the deity, whose stately persona seemed to stagger— a ripple in the tranquil waters. She stepped away on her own accord, eyes chasing the absconding image of a nightbird, a black shape disturbing the moon’s stagnant serenity.  

“... I simply couldn’t afford to stand aside any longer... not when there is so much at stake. I doubt I need to explain how you... or rather, that beloved prince of yours... is involved in all of this. Right, my child?”  

Decidedly, he failed to respond. A whistle of cold air winnowed through the god’s overgrown curls. However, she made no bodily reaction to the frigidity— merely reaching up to tuck one of the errant strands behind an ear and linger as her eyes wandered down to her unclad feet, expression unreadable. Answerless, she moved on to another subject.