Timeline/World: Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Order Caelum
Race: Demon – God of Order
Age: 1 502, physically about 27
Final Word Count: 561 words
I still remember the look of absolute loss on his face when I told him. I had never lied to my brother and I wouldn’t have started then, it would have destroyed him in worse ways than her departure did and all I wanted was to salvage what I could of his delicate soul.
Most people believe that because my brother is Chaos, in name and nature, that he’s made of strong stuff, that he can endure everything but it is so furthest from the truth that it hurts to think about it. People don’t seem to realize that Chaos and Order both are precarious things. Always teetering on the edge.
I’ve had a lifetime to adjust to my own life and I’m more balanced than him, he’s always been more unstable but it came from coming into his power as he did. No one should have had to handle that but he did and I want to believe that he did so well. If I hadn’t been there, he might not have managed much in the same way but I don’t know that it changes much, in the end.
When the break happened, when people left, we watched them go. Left and right, seeming without reason, people parted ways without so much as a backward glance and it was upsetting. I know that many wanted to blame my brother, wanted to claim that it was something he had done but why would he have? He had found someone to call his own, who accepted him quirks and all, why would he have ruined that? Just to be petty? That’s not like him.
Of course, it was proved that he wasn’t the culprit, but the harm had already been done. I know I lost my brother in the following weeks, he became something akin to a vegetable and I almost left myself but I couldn’t. This was my brother, my flesh and bone, I had raised him more than our parents since I’m more than old enough to be his father and all but I’m glad I’m his brother.
I stayed with him.
The walls were so empty, everything echoed. Of course, some had stayed behind but there were so few that it seemed almost moot to go out and try to speak to with them. I still did, because I figured that it only made sense to try and keep what ties we still had going. We couldn’t let the evil that had tried to break us win. Some were in no better condition than my brother, others, the rare lucky ones, had managed to not be pulled apart by the monster that had delighted in our suffering.
It took years until folks started to come back. It was slow at first, one here, one there, then that trickle almost became a torrent as it seemed like everyone was coming back at once. It was a sight to behold but I was still holding my breath. Did it make me a bad companion to hope that my brother’s own come home first? Did it make me a bad person that I was more worried about his well-being and heart over how my companion would be upon her return? I never asked and I don’t know that it holds much importance anymore.
We’re all back and there and alive. That matters.
Works of JD Beckett 