User blog:GalaxE/The Cosmic Perspective -- (Pretty Much Random) GGaD Writing by Galaxian

The boisterous rapping sound at the edge of the already-battered window was making Galaxian’s bones quake. At least, what he thought were his bones. Heaving a humongous sigh, he leapt over the creaking wooden planks and flung the window open, only to prevent the house from breaking apart after the window.

The falcon nearly flew into his face, diving away half a millisecond just before he sent both bird and deity crashing to the floor; Galaxian was ninety-eight-point-nine-eight percent sure Hayato had done that on purpose. It also happened to be these “sometimes” where Galaxian completely forgot the falcon had been the one to land on his shoulder in the first place, and not vice versa.

Alright, if he had landed on the falcon’s shoulder—did falcons have shoulders, anyhow?—he would have no problem with having to deal with this. As a matter of fact, though, he only had to deal with this particularly whenever he sent Hayato to deliver a message.

For instance, at the current moment, the falcon was preening his feathers while shooting Galaxian a two-second reminder that he was not a messenger bird. The young deity was very glad that the bird seemed to be taking it out on him.

Because that meant the bird hadn’t taken it out on Kenshin and Rune, or so he hoped. Ignoring the dirty looks he was getting from the gold eyes, he went back to moping in the corner—or he should say, mopping in the corner.

After a minute of nice silence, Hayato finally cracked open an eye towards the god, who was hurriedly scraping the cracked wooden surface of his desk with a torn cloth. And…the next thing Galaxian knew, he felt the very familiar sensation of a blunt tapping of the falcon’s beak on his right shoulder. He nearly yelped in imitation of pain, until he remembered it wasn’t the usual.

“What’d you do that for?” he hissed quietly instead.

Hayato gave him a look that wasn’t very comprehensible. Sighing, he switched on the cosmic telepathy.

What? he asked again. The falcon didn’t seem to like the fact that he’d switched the power on without informing his companion first, because he received another peck.

You humans are crybabies, came the response. ''Deities, or whatever. You’re all humans, and crybabies.''

''That’s not very fair to say. I don’t cry all the time,'' Galaxian muttered, meanwhile staring at the cloth, which was already bled through. Useless.

Like his heart—bled through; useless. Feelings, like love, couldn’t change the world.

He was trying to leave that useless part behind, but it was so hard. But now, he had done it. He had voluntarily removed two of his closest from his side, albeit with cowardice, but all the same. But his failure was still there—the dagger and the katana failed to shatter. That meant…his feelings were still there. Only denied. Merely being denied wasn’t going to help him any.

A peck came, on the same mark. Galaxian was pretty sure the cloth was torn by now. Are you listening?

Now I am, he sighed, rubbing the spot.

Hayato hopped onto his opposite shoulder, his talons digging in, which would have been painful for others, but Galaxian felt nothing. However, he’d much rather feel physical pain than the mental torture he was experiencing. Are those two that important to you?

The deity didn’t answer. The deity earned another mark on the side of his neck, a result of a certain falcon’s impatience.

They’re comrades, he replied, desperately keeping his feelings in check.

Oh, really. Comrades, huh? Hayato hopped off his shoulder, flying underneath the low ceiling, and GalaxE thought that the conversation was over.

Until he got the falcon’s water bowl hurled at his head. The god narrowly ducked away, the water splashing everywhere—across the desk, and the papers he was scrutinizing.

You’re being really jerk-y right now! Galaxian yelled telepathically at his bird companion, hurriedly grabbing as many books and papers as he could and putting them to the side. But the peeling plaster wall, which had already been rather moist from the humidity in the area, was now soggy. The young deity curled his lip upwards as he tried his best to remove individual water molecules, but was distracted by the falcon’s continual yelling-back at him.

''Call me a jerk, will you! Then who was it who made their supposed “comrades” cry?''

Galaxian froze.

I made Sen—Kenshin and Rune—cry?

That’s what I thought! came the falcon version of a snap, breaking apart the silence that had numbed him and reduced his reactions to their bare minimum, now startling him back into this tiny piece of reality he still had to deal with. Galaxian couldn’t understand how a deity of reality could resist just destroying it all. His worst nightmares were better than reality—a living nightmare. That made him think back…

“Is something wrong?” Time had asked, back when they removed Alexander’s deityship. That seemed like so long ago, though Galaxian knew, it was only a day ago. Or perhaps, a night ago. He lied, continually lied. He didn’t know what the god of time could see of him, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let the other see. He couldn’t let anyone see.

He couldn’t even let himself see. Better the Cosmos hate him, then he hate the Cosmos.

Better all his friends, his companions, those he had loved—Kenshin, Rune, Fallon, Chan, Time, Silverskies, anybody—it was better that they grew to hate him, and not he to hate them.

Hayato’s words were met with no response—because they would serve no purpose to the deity. As the moon finally dipped behind the clouds, there was a whispered response, softer than the wind…

I will do what I need to do.

~|-O-|~