[MM] On Gods

Once, a very long time ago, there had been no ocean.

None at all. The seafloor had been bare to the sun, baking through until the cracks in it widened and deepened into the ancestors of massive trenches. Corals had dried up, leaving ghostly piles of dust that were quickly lost to the wind when disturbed. The very crust of the universe was kissed the sky, and they said if you held your ear to the old seafloor, you could listen to the primordial lava churning underneath it all.

And the only water that was left was the great-grandparent of the Hatterne River, cutting through the largest continent, crawling from the peak of the unexplored mountains and then evaporating away to nothingness in the great desert that had grown to border the world. 

On the coast of that river, apparently, was where the Rain Colony had been born, rising up around the last of the water. Or, well, some people thought it was actually the Ink Colony that had been born there, and they'd been chased from their ancestral wetland to the plainlands by the would-be Rain Colony. Further still said Shell had risen up from the river, before abandoning it for the ocean when the water had come back. 

And, well, that wasn't even getting into the disagreements over why and how the ocean had returned. Personally, Tinte had always been taught that some sort of god had descended from the heavens, pulled a sort of broadsword out of their forehead, and let fresh water leak from the wound, which apparently restored the entire ocean and all the fish and coral and whatever that was in the water. He'd been born, believed the story, and then grew up and realized how stupid it was. 

Tinte shifted his weight onto his left side, tilting in his chair. Nobody else in the interrogation room dared to move, until finally, his melodic voice filled the silence: "Cleverly, do you believe in a god?"

"I..." the other aner shifted awkwardly. He couldn't quite move his arms, from how heavily they were restrained behind his back, and Tinte rather liked the movement (or lack thereof). "I can't say I do, no."

"Then maybe it's just a coincidence," Tinte continued, keeping his eyes wide, head still balanced on his hand, "that a band of Ants from the Clover Colony keep finding their way into our territory."

"I told you, over and over, they were excommunicated from my colony. They're no longer my problem."

"Are you sure you don't believe in something? It's starting to feel like divine intervention."

Cleverly moved again, trying to lean back slightly. Tinte couldn't imagine that sitting hunched over for very long was particularly comfortable, but one of his aner shoved Cleverly back into that position anyways. He spat a bit of blood to the side before he spoke, voice hoarse and worn, "If they're that much of an issue to you, just kill them."

Tinte narrowed his eyes quietly, pursing his lips together. "Dull."

"It's how this works, Tinte."

"How trite. Do you think to threaten me?"

"In the middle of your territory?" Clevery winced, and Tinte watched his expression pull into agony. "I ain't a fool."

Neither spoke for a second. There was a distant whirr; the ventilation system in the castle had roared back to life during their talk. It pumped fresh, high-oxygen air into the throne room - an invention of Flourish, before he'd died. Tinte had yet to find the blueprints for the machines, but when he did, he'd dismantle the entire structure. What a waste of electricity. 

His eyes glided down the side of Clevery's face. Smeared blood rested against his green colors, tinting them all a messy teal. Blue did not look good with the Clover Colony, and yet, blue seemed central to all the others. Abyssal, Rain, Shell, Ink - so much of their life revolved around water, around liquid. It was no wonder that they had become so obsessed over the ocean for so long, weaving stories and tall tales about its shores and depths, casting off into its wilderness as if it was their birthplace.

And there sat Clover Colony, above the others, centralized in hilltops, where the rain washed down the sides into the coastlines, not a body of water to their name. How it fascinated Tinte, pulled at his mind like a song. How could anyone expect him not to feel so alienated, when they filled his head with such stories of the sea in his youth? Did the elder aner not expect him to lash out towards the antithesis of their culture?

He leaned forwards, placing both hands on the armrest of his throne. "Cleverly, I do believe that there are gods left on Myrme."

The other leader's stare was steady, although there was something sparkling behind his eyes. Defiance, fear, Tinte didn't yet have the skills to tell. But it was enough to make him fall back. "It ain't my place to tell you what to believe and what not to believe."

"How does that make you feel, Cleverly?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Nothing. It ain't my business."

"Doesn't that make you feel something, deep inside? That our ancestors could walk among us, the people who crafted our world? Can you image what they would do with their magic? We have to abide by enchantments, potions, gemstones. And a god could weave the world with a flick of their wrist."

Cleverly was silent.

Tinte hummed, slumping against the back of the chair. "A pity. I hoped you were a kindred spirit, Cleverly. There are very interesting records about you, you know."

"I don't know what you're implying."

"You have a knack for showing up in times of crisis."

Cleverly finally cracked a smile, half-broken, a tooth missing. "Are you really sayin' I'm a god? C'mon, you're not off your rocker that hard. Are you?"

Tinte blinked nonchalantly while one of his guards swung the blunt end of their baton into Cleverly's skull. The other leader's face sailed unceremoniously into the marble floor, smearing more teal everywhere. He'd have to call in an ergate to clean up that mess later; what a chore. 

There was a beat of silence while Cleverly hoisted himself back up, glasses askew on his face, grin gone. There was still almost a pride in the way he held himself, shoulders squared, jaw set, the defiance still in his gaze. It was almost fascinating, in a morbid, masochistic sense. Tinte bit his lip.

"I suppose I'll just kill those vagrants, then," Tinte said, after a second, tapping the armrest and glancing to his scribe. "Put in a request to the Commander of the Army, Flow."

His scribe nodded hurriedly and typed away.

He turned back to Cleverly. "As for you... I suppose we won't keep you longer. No point in collecting your people's ire." Tinte steepled his hands. "But do keep them off my continent."

"Sure," came the gruff mumble.

"I suppose I'll see you at the next summit, Cleverly?"

Cleverly grunted, "I would hope I don't get kidnapped again for no reason. Can we make that a promise?"

Tinte allowed himself a small smile. "Oh, I do love your humor. Alright, let's make that a promise. No more stealing away the Lucky Charm." Cleverly winced at the nickname. "You'll be escorted back to the docks by some of my guard. Treat him nicely this time."

His aner grabbed Cleverly by the upper shoulders, hoisting him up. The other stumbled along behind them as they roughly dragged him out of the court room.

Tinte watched them, unblinking, until the doors of his palace closed shut. He glanced to his scribe. "Flow, put in a request to have the blood cleaned."

The other Ant clicked away at their keyboard.

"Did you receive any information on the Magninium-sensing equipment yet?"

"Not yet, sir," Flow peeped, pushing their glasses up their face. "I was going to head down to the research department myself tonight to request Dr. Qeta's presence in person."

"Ah, that sounds acceptable. I think I'll retire to my rooms for the rest of today." Tinte placed his upper hands together, lifting himself off his chair with his second set. "Put me on do not disturb - emergencies only."

"Of course, sir."

Tinte paused. "Oh - and Flow?" the other Ant blinked up at him. Seated in their chair, they were shorter than Tinte. He allowed himself a smile at the sensation of being tall. "Do you believe in gods?"

"I- um, I-"

"Ah, it's alright. I'm not enforcing any sort of religion, after all." Tinte laughed, a hand over his chest. "I just can't help but feel we have some greater meaning to our lives than - well, gyne and war. Perhaps it's just the foolish musings of a dreamer."

"...I, um, see, sir."

"Anyways, I'll be off. Do let me know if any of the other leaders leaves me a message. They'll be angry about Cleverly's state." with that, Tinte turned on his heel and headed off down the hallway.