~•~•~•Josiah's p.o.v•~•~•~
My body was in a sort of numb trance, with the carriage shaking beneath me and the wind whipping through my hair. The music of the forest hadn't stirred me awake since i got on the roof, leaving me sleeping a bit longer as the forest passes by. Feeling the warm rays of the early morning sun on my face, i opened my surprisingly tired eyes. my legs felt deathly numb, but i was surpisingly comfortable. the forest was peaceful. I eventually noticed as syllette slowly woke up in the carriage. i opened the hatch and lowered myself inside "Good morning, josiah…" she said in a sleepy voice. "Good morning, Miss sylette," i replied in a calm voice. "We should be stopping in about 2 hours." the voice of the carriage driver rang in. sylete looked out the carriage's window at the increasingly illuminated landscape as the carriage moved forward at a moderate pace along a vague road that ran alongside a slow-moving and winding river.
sylette, seemingly still not fully awake, asked me "so, how was sleeping on the roof overnight?" i kept my focus on the unpleasent feelings plaguing my body but answered, "I grew up in both a loud and sometimes chaotic environment, so Compared to sleeping in the same house as my siblings, especially my youngest and most mischevious brother, falling and staying asleep in less than ideal conditions is hardly laborious for me." sylette looked at me "wow, that's quite impressive." "Nothing compared to my older brother" i said with a chuckle as i recall my older brother. he was always someone who loved sleep and dream so it was no surprise when he became the god of sleep, dreams, nightmares, rest, daydreams, and the mindscape. he could sleep through absolutely everything, including our youngest brother focusing most of his pranks on him. it also wasnt a surprise our youngest brother became the god of pranks, mischeif, trickery, and illusions. while he was a pain and absolute trouble maker, he made things interesting.
i was brought out of my reminiscence as sylette spoke again "sounds like you remember those moments fondly, are those two your only siblings?" i chuckle a bit and nod at her "i do remember them fondly, and no i have other siblings. i have eight siblings, two older brothers, an older sister, a younger sister, two younger brothers, and then two younger sisters." Sylette blinked a few times, her gaze still fixed on the winding river as it caught the morning light like threads of silver. "That's… a big family," she said softly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I can't imagine what growing up in a full house like that is like."
"It was loud," I said with a smirk. "Chaotic, emotional, filled with arguments, and the tons wrestling matches and fights… but it was home. And despite the madness, there was love. My mother always said we were her stars in her favorite constellation, all differnt and unique, but part of the same pattern." sylette smiled "That's beautiful," she then murmured, finally turning to look at me. "Did you see them often before being sent to find who you are?"
I hesitated for a moment. The gentle sway of the carriage helping relax me as i thought of a safe answer. "Not as often as I'd like. Some of them have duties that keep them busy… big responsibilities. Others, well… they've always been ones to go explore far and wide and not be seen for years. It's strange how time and purpose can make the people closest to you feel distant. Especially when you're one of the one always off on adventures."
Syllette didn't speak right away. Her expression turned thoughtful, perhaps a little wistful. "I know that feeling," she said eventually. "Even before… all of this," she gestured vaguely to the world outside, "I always felt like I was walking a path that my family wanted me to follow, and i started doing these deliveries because it gave me a chance to explore and experience more. To try and find something, anything, that felt like i absolutely had to leave the winery behind for. I was looking for something I couldn't explain. At some point i guess i found it, but i just hadn't paid attention to my own thoughts enough to realize until after i met you."
I tilted my head, studying her. "And now you've got many questions to ask yourself right?" a small smile made it's way to her face as she nodded. Soon enough 2 hours passed as me and Sylette sat in comfortable small talk or silence before the carriage began to slow. Outside, the trees were thinning, and the distant outline of a small village came into view—a cluster of stone houses nestled beside the river, smoke curling from their chimneys. "We're here," Mr. Winsley called back as the carriage rolled to a stop, and a soft, and surprisingly cold, breeze brushed through the open window, carrying with it the scent of morning dew and wildflowers—and something else beneath it.
The carriage gave a gentle lurch as it came to a full stop. I could hear the soft creak of the wood as Mr. Winsley dismounted. The village was quiet, save for the distant bleating of goats and the occasional chirp of birds nestled in the trees. A sense of calm settled over the area, as though the day hadn't quite decided to begin. Sylette stretched her arms over her head with a faint groan, her expression scrunching briefly before relaxing again. "I think I'm going to feel stiff in my back for the rest of the day," she mumbled. "You should try sleeping on the roof next time," I teased, stepping down from the carriage and offering her my hand.
She smiled and it gently. "I think I'll pass, plus no one told you to sleep on the roof. Though you do seem to be functioning remarkably well for someone who slept on wood planks and wind."
"I've had worse," I said with a half-smile. My boots crunched lightly on the packed earth of the road as we made our way toward the edge of the village. The homes here were modest—stone foundations, weathered wooden beams, roofs of thatch or tile, and windows framed with faded curtains. A few villagers turned to glance at us as we passed, their expressions neutral, perhaps curious, but not unfriendly.
Mr. Winsley was already speaking to someone near the edge of a small stable, likely arranging care for the horses. Sylette adjusted her satchel, glancing around as though trying to take in every detail. Sylette spoke up "Let's find the inn and see if they have breakfast. My stomach's staging a coup."
We passed a crooked wooden sign that read The Riverest inn hanging above the entrance to a small inn. The door creaked as I pushed it open, revealing a modest common room with a low-burning hearth, a few empty tables, and the scent of bread and something savory lingering in the air. A stout older woman with sharp eyes and a dusting of flour on her apron looked up from behind the counter. "let me guess, you guys are Travelers?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am," Sylette answered. "Just arrived, and how did you know. Is it too early for breakfast?"
"Not at all. Sit anywhere. I'll bring you something warm, and i knew because we barely ever get new people in town" the lady said. We took a table near a window. Sylette rested her elbow on the table, her eyes fixed on the flickering glow of the fireplace. I sat across from her, soaking in the inn's warm, quiet atmosphere. After a moment, she glanced my way and raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing my restless rocking and the frantic bounce of my legs. "Josiah," she said, dryly, "go to the bathroom. There's likely an outhouse behind the inn."
Ah. Right. Mortals. They have to... expel waste. I'll never grow accustomed to the cursed rituals of this fragile body—the constant, inconvenient demands of mortality. With a quiet sigh, I rose from the bench and made my way outside, Morning light spilled gently across the inn's back wall as I stepped outside, the air still cool and damp with dew. Birds chirped with irritating cheer as if they hadn't spent the night confined to a fallible body. I followed a narrow dirt path, boots pressing into soft earth, until I reached the outhouse tucked near the edge the thicket. It was a crooked little structure, barely standing upright, with weathered wood, a O.H carved into the door, and A faint appalling stench lingered in the air. I wrinkled my nose from the Unpleasant scent. So this was where mortals… relieved themselves. How vile.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The interior was cramped, dim, and smelled way more awful than the outside, something I hadnt expected. I stared at the strange, gaping hole in the wooden bench and paused. Now what? I stood there for an uncomfortably long moment, staring, trying to figure out the mechanics. How did mortals even—? Was there some kind of process? A ritual? I looked around for a lever or a tool, anything that might guide the way. Nothing.
Grimacing, as i feel the pressure in my lower body grow and take that as a hint, I began to fumble with the buttons of my trousers, trying to undo them. So here I stand, with my trousers down, no clue what to do next. Everything about this is humiliating.
In the celestial realm, I was used to every divine luxury mortals couldnt even comprehend. Now, I struggle to comprehend how to relieve myself into a pit in the ground like some beast. "Mortality," I muttered bitterly, "is suffering."
Eventually, I managed to relieve myself. I stepped back out into the daylight a minute later, dignity slightly bruised, hands freshly scrubbed in the washbasin by the door. As I returned to the inn, a thought came to mind. That is the most disgusting experience i have ever had in centuries.
As I stepped back into the inn, the warmth rushed to meet me, wrapping around my limbs in a way that felt comforting. The scent of bread and sizzling meat thickened the air, and for reasons I couldn't name, my stomach gave an odd twist and a rumble that sounded like a mix between an angry beast and an earthquake. Is this what hunger feels like? Is this what mortals feel when they need to fuel themselves with sustenance? When I was a god I didn't need to eat to survive, all the gods ate for fun and simply for the taste of whatever we were eating. Sylette looked up from her seat as I returned, the steam from her tea curling lazily in front of her face. Her brow arched. "You were gone a while," she said, her voice casual, but her eyes gleamed with barely disguised amusement and curiosity. "Get lost?"
I sank back into the chair across from her with a sigh that felt heavier than I intended. "Let's just say I've had more dignified moments." She smirked and took a sip from her cup. "Well, the outhouse isn't exactly a place where dignity thrives." Before I could formulate a reply, the woman from behind the counter approached with two heaping plates. Eggs, toasted bread, dark rounds of sausage, and a bowl of stewed apples were placed before us with efficient grace. "There you go, Still warm. Soon You'll be feeling better in no time." she said with a laugh. Sylette thanked her politely. I gave a small nod, already studying the food. I'd tasted mortal food before, as I had stolen many a taste of countless offerings burned on altars to my father and other gods, and feasts enjoyed by their followers. eating as one of them though, needing it, digesting it, was another matter entirely. I picked up the fork, familiar with the ritual but newly aware of every part of it. The heat of the egg, the weight of the bread, the grease that clung to the sausage. It all felt different now.
Sylette cut into her food, chewing contentedly. "So what do you think? Not bad for a tiny village inn, right?"
I took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. The taste was simple but rich, full of textures I had once only understood in theory, although severely lacking compared to the food of the gods. Especially the food my mother made, THAT food was always better than any other. "It's… good," I admitted. "More… pleasent than I expected from food of the people." Sylette tilted her head at me, curious but not pressing. "You say the weirdest things sometimes, you know that?" "Do I?" I offered a faint smile. "I suppose it's part of my charm."
"Well, mysterious charm or not, we're staying here for the day. Mr. Winsley wants to inspect the wheels before we go on, and give the horses a rest. You should take some time, walk around. See what life feels like when you're in a town where everyone knows everyone" I looked toward the window. The morning light had shifted, brushing gold against the dusty glass panes. Somewhere outside, I could hear a hammer tapping, a distant laugh, a cart rolling over cobblestones. A quiet life, full of tiny demands.
"Perhaps I will," I murmured. "There's much I haven't seen."
Sylette raised her cup in a half-toast. "To not getting lost this time." I clinked mine gently against hers, sarcastically scoffing and rolling my eyes with a smirk. "you severely underestimate my abilities to be dumb."
We continued to eat in a quiet rhythm, the kind that settles between people who don't need to fill silence with words. The inn eventually filled slowly, the conversations of those around were hushed, intimate, steeped in familiarity. I found myself watching them more than eating, curious about the daily lives of these mortals. Sylette broke a piece of bread in half and slid it onto my plate without comment. I blinked at her, startled, but she wasn't looking at me. Just chewing. Thoughtful. I said nothing, only took the bread and bit into it.
Once the plates were cleared, Sylette stood, stretching her arms overhead again with a groan. "Alright. Let's go to our room before the village really wakes up." The innkeeper, whose name sylette told me was Marda, led us up a narrow wooden staircase that creaked underfoot. The hallway was short and clean, lit by a single window at the far end where the sunlight poured in, warm and a little dusty.
"Room's at the end," Marda said, handing over a tarnished brass key. "one bed, one basin, as per usual miss withrose, and a view of the well if you like looking at your neighbors. You'll have privacy at least. Just don't go knocking the bedframe on the walls; the folks next door are light sleepers."
"Thank you," Sylette said quietly with an embarrassed smile and a blush.
I murmured something polite and looked away in embarrassment as i followed her in. The room was simple, stone floors, wood-paneled walls, a narrow bed with thick quilts, and a small table by the window. A jug of water sat beside a ceramic basin. The bed groaned slightly as sylette sat on the edge of it. I moved to the window and peered out. "There's a market down the road. Should be worth poking through while Winsley finishes with the horses." Syllette said. We both were trying to avoid the awkward conversation about the sleeping arrangements for tonight, but I figured it was better to get it over with. "I take it you usually stay at this inn during your trips to velas haven?" "Yes, every 5 months i make this delivery. so Mrs. Marda reserves a room for me here every 5 months and receives a payment through a courier 2 days before I arrive. Hence the one bed, especially sinece mr. Winsley has a daughter here he stays with when we stop here."
I nodded as an idea popped into my head. "Well I'll be sleeping in the carriage tonight so you can have your privacy." Sylette eyed me pensively "you'll do no such thing. You'll sleep in here on the bed with me seeing as the weather here is much colder at night than it was when we were on the road. There's a reason the beds here have two quilts." I hummed lightly before reply "eh, I'll be fine." We continued to argue back and forth about where i was sleeping for a good 10 minutes. She eventually wore me down enough to sleep in the room, but I still adamantly insisted on sleeping on the floor with and her keeping both quilts. When she realized I wasn't going to budge she huffed a bit and muttered "fine, but don't complain when you freeze."
I ignored that and ran my fingers over the rough stitching of the quilts. The cushioned seats in the carriage are softer than these. As if reading my mind Sylette spoke. "For this village, that's luxury quality. Not much better quality things tend to be brought through here." I nodded quickly. she then grabbed her satchel and started walking out of the room. "Come on. Let's stretch our legs." i followed behind, closing our room door behind us, as we made our way out into the village. The morning had fully settled now, sunlight warmed the gravel streets, and the breeze carried the scent of herbs, woodsmoke, and something sugary baking nearby. The town's modest market had come alive, with stalls set up in a seemingly spiral pattern with the more popular shops towards the center. Although even the less popular shops had steady foot tarffic as locals meandered between them, inspecting woven baskets, hand-dyed fabrics, jars of jam, bolts of linen, and baskets of bread. Children darted past us in small groups, laughing as they chased one another between the carts.
A man with a bent back and a crooked smile tried to sell Sylette a pan flute with a dream catcher attached to the back. "Enchanted, miss," he claimed. "Scares off rats and terrible dreams." She smiled and handed it back. "I like my dreams, thanks." I lingered by a stall selling knives and small tools, watching the vendor polish a blade with quiet care. There was something strangely relaxing about it. Sylette returned to my side and looped her arm around mine, the gesture sending a strange pulse through me. A warmth, subtle but persistent, curling somewhere beneath my ribs. she smiled a genuine, unguarded smile that made the market around us seem lighter, as though the sun had leaned in just a little closer. "come on. let's see what else this little town has to offer." "Lead the way," I said. We strolled together, falling into a comfortable rhythm as we passed more stalls stacked with bolts of cloth, piles of fruit, and the occasional merchant loudly proclaiming their cabbage was the best on this side of the mountains. The scent of sweet buns and caramelized nuts drifted through the air. Every once in a while, Sylette would stop and marvel at something, usually something small and pretty. She didn't buy anything, but I could tell she enjoyed just looking.
I said nothing either way, mostly because I only had 5 gold coins to speak of, which is not much all things considered. We passed a small stand with handmade trinkets—braided bracelets, glass beads, carved pendants. A delicate wire necklace caught Sylette's eye, its silver thread catching the sun. She paused, studying it for a moment, then smiled softly and moved on. "Cute, but I've already got enough things to tangle when I sleep," she said lightly, fingering the ring on her thumb. "That sounded very responsible," I said. She turned and gave me a mock-serious look. "I'm an extremely responsible person. I didn't even buy a cinnamon roll back there." i chuckle, even though i dont know the name of half of the food being sold here so i had no clue what a cinnamon roll was "That's actually tragic." I said. "Don't worry," she said with a little smile. "I'm just waiting for an excuse." We wandered deeper into the market, where the crowd thickened and the music from a small trio of string players drifted through the air. A few kids danced in circles near the fountain, their laughter echoing off the stone. We walked a bit farther, stopping occasionally as she pointed out which stalls usually had the best bread, or which ones doubled their prices if you wore anything that looked too clean.
The smell of roasted spices and raw meat clung to the air as me and Sylette walked through the denser part of the market, where butchers hawked their cuts behind stained wooden counters and livestock bleated softly in their pens. I slowed as I spotted something unusual, four older men hunched over a round table beside a pen full of pigs, sheep, goats, and chickens. A stack of worn cards danced between their fingers. The men barely noticed the loud clucks and occasional grunts coming from behind them; their focus was sharp, eyes narrowed in challenge. "What are they doing?" I muttered as sylette followed my gaze, squinting at the table. "Oh! That's poker, I think." she said kind of uncertainly "Poker?" I asked back. "It's a card game," she said, nodding. "People play it in taverns or alleys or under trees or, well, wherever. I don't really know how it works. I think it has something to do with pretending you're winning when you're not?" "That sounds confusing," i said, already transfixed on the oddly fascinating game. "It is. I think you're supposed to lie a little. Or act. Something like that."
I tilted my head, my eyes narrowing. One man chuckled smugly and pushed a few small metal coins into a pile. Another groaned. "He didn't have anything!" the loser muttered. I leaned in, watching quietly. Within minutes, I kind of began to notice patterns. How certain hands made the others sit straighter or how a glance to the side meant nerves. One of the older men had a terrible tell, he scratched his beard when bluffing. Another blinked rapidly when he had a good hand. I watched three rounds unfold, and by the fourth, I could tell The man with the green vest is going to win this one, And I was right. I would have kept watching, but my gaze shifted as a soft meh sounded from the pen behind the men. I turned to see a baby goat standing slightly apart from the others. Its horns curled unevenly, its body kinda thin, and its fur had a strange matted quality and in the sunlight i could see bits of dried up mud in its fur. The little thing looked awkward and hardly standing but something about it reminded me of kiatoir. Kiatoir was the cylanian radiant ram me and my brothers found abandoned and trapped in the roots of one of my uncle Rhouithmd's demon trees. When we rescued it and brought it home we begged our father to let us keep him, and after some convincing from our mother he agreed. I was abruptly brought out of my thoughts as Sylette said. "I also remember that most people don't just play this games for fun," she said, gesturing to the poker table. "They usually play with things. Coins. Items. Weird wagers." She hesitated, then added lightly, "I'm going to look through the last few stalls before the crowds thicken. Want to come?"
My eyes drifted back to the game. "I'll catch up." while I did want one explore the market more I just couldn't tear my eyes away from the game.
She gave a small nod. "Don't lose a finger," she teased, then disappeared into the crowd. Once she was gone i watched for a bit longer before, i stepped forward. "are you guys playing for things or for fun?" i asked the men. The one in the green vest, who had just won again, grinned. "Money, trinkets, or drinks." he said. "You're welcome to join," said another, eyes gleaming. I pulled the small pouch from my belt holding my five gold coins, i didn'thave much, really. Back home this is basically pocket change, I can't imagine it being much different here. "I doubt these would matter much." I said as I showed them the coins. The men all leaned in like a pack of hounds catching a scent. "Five gold?" one wheezed. "That's more than enough!" "Why, that's a royal buy-in!" said another, greatly confusing me. "We'd be honored, lad!" the guy i assume was the butcher, because of his blood stained apron, said. Totally bewildered and not quite understanding their enthusiasm i nod and said "Sure," as i frowned slightly and sat down. "I've never paid to play before, though." The men exchanged a few glances, and assured me its easy and that we all just choose how much to bet, and that once it was in the pot there was no changing it until the next round. I calmly dropped all five of my gold coins into the pot, oblivious to their shared gasp. They each threw in one or two silver coins. Then the game began.
I quickly found this game was fairly easy to play if you just memorized the patterns and By the end of the first round, i had "cleaned out" two of them, what ever that meant. By the second, I'd earned a curse or two. By the fourth, I was holding a pile of silver in front of myself and one man was wiping sweat from his brow. "I think I win again?" I said, blinking. The butcher, who had been watching with folded arms, leaned back in his chair. "Well, I'm out. I ain't got enough silver on me." I looked up. "That's alright. I don't need—" But the man grunted and motioned to the pen. "You were lookin' at that goat, right? Take it." I blinked. I clearly heard wrong. Why was he so nonchalant? "Really, i dont need to, we're good. You dont owe me anything as far as im concerned." I said bewildered yet again. The man waved a hand. "i always pay what is owed. No exceptions. Besides, Things mom wont take care of it and its got no use. I can already tell Its to not going to grow up and fill out more, and no one wants a sickly goat, You're doin' me a favor." he said as he stood slowly and approached the pen. The baby goat trotted forward as it recognized him. He opened the gate and grabbed it before reclosing the gate and walking back to me, shoving it in my arms. "….oh....okay?" I whispered, then shook my head with disbelief. Having already collected my coins, and a fucking goat, I get up and bid the men farewell. What the hell, of all the weird shit to happen....