Young Writers Society

The sunlight was brighter than it had seemed like back in the apartment, but Runi was okay with that - it fit the mood of the day.

"Well," she said after thinking long and hard on his question, "I've been hopping from job to job. I've got a nice one at the local museum right now, and I'm hoping to keep it for awhile."

She glanced over at him.

"What about you?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, really. Everything's been rather stable. No rebellions, no assassins, no civil war, or war of any kind, for that matter. Raven and Jabril and Viper pretty much have things covered as far as governance goes and we don't get much civil disobedience nowadays, which means no court cases for me to deal with. The few that do occur are usually dealt with on the lower levels of the judicial system, so..." Another shrug. "A lot of sitting around waiting for something to happen."

He offered his arm once more as they strode down the street and down the stairs to the subway.

God was gay.

It was something that most people wouldn't know - or, really, ever expect. He didn't exactly go around announcing to the world that he wasn't straight, but he also didn't go around doing the opposite, either. He just had the occasional crush, and occasionally admitted his sexuality when he wasn't being himself. All the gods knew. Some had even approached him before, but he had never found one that he quite liked in the same way.

Another fact: gods could get drunk.

It involved spell work, and charms, but part of the experience of alcohol was the intoxication. He was usually good about controlling how much he took in, but tonight was a night where he let certain parts of himself be free.

It was pride.

And all he wanted to do was enjoy the masquerade.

He found a nice suit. He didn't like suits, but he liked the tie and liked the mask he had chosen to go with it. They were both rainbow - he wouldn't have it any other way. He had changed into the suit right before the masquerade that was always hosted during pride in this town. He had never been to this one before, but there was an opportunity for hunting right around the same time.

It was the perfect excuse.

So now God was drunk and very clearly gay, even if he wasn't out in the party as probably the most important part of his identity: being the figurehead of Christianity, and the guy who was in charge of Heaven.

Some part of him knew that he needed to sober up a little. He made his way to the bar, where they were serving free cups of water to the more inebriated members of the masquerade. But he found himself bumping into a guy who was standing near the bar, and found himself stumbling over his words - something that never happened when he was sober - when he realized just how good-looking the man was.

"Oh, hi," he said. His words were slurring a little. God, he needed to sober up - a little giggle left his lips at the thought, seeing that he was talking about himself, but he didn't give any context to the man. "I like you."

He blinked, regained a little bit of dignity, and corrected himself.

"I like your fedora," he told him very, very seriously. He leaned up against the counter - too drunk to be thankful that no one he knew was there - and added, "They-They say they've gone out of fashion, but I don't think they ever will. Fedoras are timeless."

He paused, giggling again at something that wouldn't have been nearly as funny if he was sober.

"What's your name?" he asked. "Mine's Angel - like from Buffy. I'm not as good looking as David Boreanaz, though."

It'd been exactly twenty-five years of sobriety. It wasn't that he'd never touched alcohol, he'd simply never had enough to get even tipsy, which was rather shocking given everything. When he was nineteen years old he'd put down the bottle and he hadn't picked it up again because all it'd done, and all other drugs had done, was make his life worse instead of better.

Ever since his descent into Hell and his rise to power, his entire life had become the next conquest. Enforcing his rule and expanding his empire. Wars, rebellions, civil war, watching his back and carefully making his way across the thinly-spun web of lies that he'd created and now danced upon each and every day. He'd let himself be consumed by it. Let the world turn white. Let the cold creep through everything and permeate even the strongest of hearts. Let the fires flicker and die.

But Miss Runi made him feel like a person again, and maybe it was that that made him make the decision to let himself have one night of escape. Maybe a part of him missed that. Or maybe he was just weak of will and was making excuses to fall back into old habits.

Either way, when he was approached by the tall figure in a spectacular amount of rainbows who obviously was intoxicated, Cornyx himself was rather tipsy. Well. Tipsy was what he was four drinks ago. Now he was just plain drunk.

So instead of leaving like a smart person, he only laughed at the comment about Angel which really wasn't actually that hilarious and engaged. "I'm C...Cain," he said, snorting a little, because it was all sort of ironic given the biblical origins of their names.

He giggled.

"Cain and Angel," he said, smiling as he leaned a little more against the counter. "I like how that sounds, Cain."

He propped his head up with his elbow; he rested his chin in the cusp of his hand as he looked over the man before him. Something about him seemed familiar, but he was too drunk to really figure out what that something was.

"Your family must be religious, then," he said. "I like religious people. Mine's religious, too."

He giggled again, finding this to probably be the funniest joke of the night - at least until he got more drunk.

"Do you believe in God?" he asked. He leaned forward a little. "I can usually tell if someone's Christian, but I don't feel like thinking that hard right now."

He paused and mulled it over.

"I don't know if I can," he corrected. "I haven't been drunk like this for a long time. Have you?"

"Cain and Angel," he mumbled, then chuckled. "Cain's an old name. Heh, I haven't used it in forever." Another laugh, as though this was funny somehow. A frown creased his features as he mentioned religion and his family, however. He didn't like that and the alcohol didn't change it.

"Noooo," he said, shaking his head. "No, I used to, but no. No." Then, a snort at his last question. "No...it's been like...like twenty years. Twenty five. Heh."

He paused, looking back at him. "You have a nice tie. Itsh....colorful."

"Thanks," he said, giving him a shaky but content smile. The comment about Cain being an old name should have been some kind of warning sign, but he was drunkenly falling head over heels for the man who was still just a stranger to him. "I bought it just for tonight. Tonight's a special night - even more special than Sundays. I want to be me for once."

A serious look briefly flickered across his face.

"...I could never wear this tie to work," he admitted. His posture slumped. "I wear suits all of the time, and ties, too, but they're boring black ones. It would be a scandal if I did - not for my coworkers. Most aren't straight, anyways. But for the people who I work with?"

The hand holding his chin slipped up to cover most of his face.

"It would be a nightmare," he said. "It's one thing to accept your friend or your sibling or even your parents as gay, but for me? No, no. There would be outrage, and I'd bet they'd even fire me. They-They'd have to put my brother in charge, and that would be even worse."

A frown matching the one that Cain had after his comment about names appeared on God's lips, and God decided that being sober was the last thing he wanted to be right now.

He turned to the bartender.

"Can I have the strongest drink you have?" he asked. The woman behind the counter nodded. God pulled his wallet out from the depths of his pocket, fingering through the many bills before handing the right amount off to her. He didn't even try to hide how much money was in there; Cain could easily see every last dollar.

He chugged down half the glass, slamming it down on the counter before wiping his chin with his sleeve.

"You look good for somewhere over twenty-five, Cain," he said, giving him another drunken smile. "But I'm sorry you don't like religion much - whoever made you hate it did religion all wrong. There's a right way to do it, and a wrong way, too, and the right way doesn't scare people away."

His smile grew a little more confident.

"I won't outright try to convert you," he said, "but I do like a challenge. I-I'd love to see you in my church someday."

Thankfully, he was just sober enough to realize the monumental slip up he had just made, so he quickly came up with an explanation that worked very well with both that mistake and the comment about people not being accepting of his sexuality.

"I'm the head of a church," he informed, giving a little giggle. He knew he should have been saying it with a straight face, but the pun was just too irresistible - just like Cain. "It's a very big one. I'd be happy if the size never changed, but there's something nice about seeing people I actually like when I'm at work."

Cornyx burst out laughing, because the idea of him, in a church, was funny. Really funny. Because he was the Devil now. And a tyrannical dictator. And he'd conquered Heaven. And he was talking to a priest man who wanted him in a church.

"Good luck, you'll need it," he said, still laughing as he called the bartender back over for a refill. "You'll need lotsh of it. I made a terrible Catholic anyways, you...you wouldn't want me." Another snort of laughter. "Really bad. As-as the alcohol demonstrates."

The implications of the money, the man's sexuality, his job, and their shared inebriation all flew over the man's head as he took a long sip of his drink. "I wish I had people I liked at work," he mumbled. "I think most of them just want me goooone."

"I'm not a big fan of the Bible," God insisted - even though he couldn't tell why he was so set on insisting it. He didn't want to lose Cain. They had been talking for just a handful of minutes, and he felt like he had known him for years. That rarely happened with anyone outside of the gods. His trio of hunters didn't even make him feel that way. None of them ever really understood.

Despite this, he felt like Cain would understand him perfectly. Cain was anomaly, and God was quickly deciding that made him like him even more.

"The Bible's good in theory," he said, "but it has its...flaws."

He took another swig of his drink.

"It's just a book written by humans," he said. "It might hold some truths in it, but the world changes. A little alcohol here and there isn't that bad."

He gave him a grin.

"And you were sober for twenty-five years before tonight came along," he pointed out, moving a little closer. "I think you'd fit in perfectly with my church. My teachings are simple - you take the overall messages of the Bible, you accept that religion can't always stay the same, and, most important of all-"

Here he took the biggest swig of his drink yet.

"-don't piss God off."

He nearly snarfed the beer as Angel informed him that he'd fit in with the church. Overall teachings of the Bible seemed nice, but he somehow doubted that killing one's mentor and family to seize the throne of Hell before conquering four other worlds and forcing them under an iron rule was acceptable to that any more than it was to the actual Bible.

"I think I've already broken all three of those rules," he answered with a snort, shaking his head. "Probably multiple times." With this, he tipped back the entirety of his drink and leaned across the bar. "Hey...hey...could I just get some tequila please...yeah...thanks," he mumbled to the bartender, who fetched him his shots.

God finished off his drink.

"I'd like some, too," he said.

As he started to get the money out of his wallet, an idea came to him. He didn't really need all of this money - there was no point in saving it. And he genuinely liked Cain's company. Was there any harm in paying for his drink?

"I'll pay for both of our drinks," he impulsively said, fishing out plenty of money. It would easily cover their drinks, and then some.

The transaction completed and the drinks now present, God turned back to the man who was beginning to feel less and less like a stranger.

"So, Cain," he started, "what do you do for a living? You know what I do. Something tells me your job is more interesting."

He giggled again. His job would definitely be the more interesting one, but he had a story to maintain. He was a priest named Angel - cue another little giggle, because it sounded stupid when he thought of it that way - and that would be boring compared to whatever Cain said he did.

He was a monarch expanding his empire by force, but even in his drunken state, he recognized that that wasn't something he should advertise here on Earth. On Runi's Earth.

Things had been so much simpler back in Grimmore.

"Thanks," he said, starting with manners around the drinks, and then he slid into the force of old habit. Lies were second nature to the demon by now and even intoxicated it wasn't that hard to come up with one. "I'm a businessman." He traded souls, didn't he? It counted. "I run a law firm." Also not terribly far off the mark, given the sheer amount of contracts and the litigious nature of the business of three of his four worlds.

A businessman?

Not what he had expected, but it definitely seemed to fit. He chugged a shot down - he really should have stopped, but he knew he wouldn't even have this conversation if he was sober.

"I was talking to some businessmen this morning," he absentmindedly commented. "They were begging for forgiveness, which was funny because I don't-"

He paused. The ones being referenced were in Hell; he was checking out his after life's prison system to make sure it was running well, and to review a few possible early releases from it. They had been begging him when he walked by their cells - he was pretty sure they thought he was the devil.

...If only they had known he was their god.

But he was supposed to just be a priest, and unforgiveness wasn't exactly the best trait for one.

"-have the ability to do something like that," he quickly finished. "Only God can give them forgiveness; the most I can do is let them confess to their crimes, and hope that he hears them."

It was so hard not to start laughing right now.

Forgiveness. That was amusing. He couldn't stifle the snort of laughter that left him at that thought. It was a useless concept. Petty, even. There was no God--not on his world--and there was no salvation. After death came Heaven or Hell and it was all the Winter King's domain.

"A lot of people in my line of work seem to need it," he chuckled. "But the day you see me at confession is the day I die." Probably not even then, but if he were to do it, it'd just be some last ditch effort at something that didn't exist. When he died, he was going to the Pits of Hell and there was no question about it. He'd suffer and at some point he'd be reaped for the final time. He'd accepted that fate a long time ago.

"I'd never do a confession, either," God declared - hoping that his admission of the truth would be enough to win back Cain. Despite the laugh, he felt like he had said the wrong thing. He could blame it on him being drunk, but he didn't usually like businessmen to begin with. They had a habit of forgetting about what it was like to not be successful.

"Not that I have anything to confess, anyways," God commented. He looked over at Cain, ignoring the drink he had out before him. "I'll take my sins to the grave, if I have them."

Another giggle slipped out - he would never go to the grave. His sins - nonexistent as they probably were - would never ever see the light of day.