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War never had their peaceful moments. Always just a breath till the screaming and endless sobbing began soon later. Wartime air was disgusting and filled with a longing agony which begged for freedom. An agony that wasn’t inherently ironic. Everyone wanted freedom from a hellish war.
What would history call this affair? Amongst many names, only one would suffice; The Archon War. An ironic yet sadly fitting name. The ironic name would label this war as a hell that one would never wish to live though. Unlike future generations, some would have to live through hell.
Yet now in this moment instead of agonizing screams? Wartime space, not a scream in true range. All that lingered from war would be quiet fires and sniffling tears. Tears in the replacement of sobbing and fires replacing nature as far the eye could see being burned in an attempt to stay alive and kicking. Perhaps this particular moment would suffice as peace, no?
“Say, what’s your name? It feels wrong to call you my friend if I cannot address you properly! Do you have one? If so, can I know?”, a boy with braided hair and a quiet gleam of hope in his eyes asked. How could he not? He’d been cursed with the ability of curiosity. Holding a gentle wind wisp in his hands, he waited for something- anything! “C’mon, please?”
“Barbatos”, a response so gentle from the wisp after a moment of consideration. He seemed to hardly talk much, only squeaking when excited and floating around his newcalled friend. Friendship was strange, unusual.
Allyship was a laughable occurrence; Morax was stubborn and the others? Laughable! Perhaps a reason why he never stood near them, instead finding comfort in humanity. Was that shameful? He couldn’t care less. Archons knew little in regards to humanity.
Such creatures had so much hope and an inkling for freedom; How could he not long to stand by them wholeheartedly? Foolish and idiotic, yet freedom tasted so good. How could he, as an archon, not want that?
The boy just laughed at the wisp’s name, a gentle smile soon growing endlessly. Smiles proved more fitting for him rather than horror and disgusting tears. Such horror only profited a wartime. Smiles were rare, but in the company of a friend? A smile could be sacrificed this once. Would that be considered truly foolish? Perhaps, but when else would smiles be deemed as tasteful and not tasteless?
“Barbatos? That’s an odd name! Who named you such a thing?”
“I can’t recall, dear friend. I don’t quite like Barbatos, it feels too formal. When this dreaded war is long over, I’ll change it to something fitting”. A quiet squeak from the wisp as if to claim, ‘I truly mean it’.
“Choose a name that reflects a freeing skyline. Barbatos, I’ve never seen the sky without the disgusting ash and death and the air. What does the true sky feel like?”
Once again regressing to his urge of endless curiosity, he glanced away from Barbatos, his eyes soon fixating on the sky. Instead of clear and blue? Ash gray and the sickening smells of bodies and fire.
His form shifted attention to his dear friend. So many thoughts in a human mind, he wondered what the other often thought. Aside from survival. Barbatos wasn’t sure but sounded understanding towards the other’s curiosity. “Freedom, just pure freedom. You’ll see my friend! Just trust me, alright?”
Despite still staring mindlessly towards ash-filled clouds, he nodded gently. Why his wisp friend ever so desperate to preserve growing hope? He wasn’t sure and it always felt inappropriate to ask mindless questions.
One day though when this war was over would he ever consider to ask such questions. “Such a dream, I wish for that just as much as I long to see a gentle bird. Is that silly, friend?”
“It’ll never be silly, I assure you”
“Barbatos! You’ll never guess! I believe I’ve written the most graceful poem yet! When this war ends, will you come with me to publish it?”, a quiet smile on a rainy day. While the masses went towards battle, the braided boy stood behind to prepare meals.
He didn’t necessarily mind, anything was better than being forced on the frontlines. Selfish to prefer the silly duties but he couldn’t have cared less. “I’d rather not do that by myself, I’ll feel secure if my friend comes with me”
Sitting gently on a journal of sorts, Barbatos nodded softly. Was this selfish of him to temporarily abandon his bow for simple conversations? Indeed, but he’d rather be here than there on a murky battlefield. The skies would never be a safe distance away from hell.
Why sit mindlessly while screams filled his head? Yelling for backup and tossing far too many ameno-filled arrows; Such ideals making him incredibly sick. Here it was safe and sound. “Hm? Oh, your poem! What is the topic this time? Longing for sunshine?”
Shaking his head, he glanced in the direction of his wisp friend. These days, the other seemed rather distracted. While wartime had gotten to a new level of utter hell and secrecy, it seemed strange for his friend not to crack a joke or three. What was on his mind? “Not this time, but is something wrong? You seem distracted”
“Distracted? You’re quite funny!”
“Barbatos, I’m serious. Is something actually wrong?”
Two options the archon could do. Either lie in regards to it all or finally open up in regards to absolutely everything? Glancing away, Barbatos had made his mind up eons ago. Humanity shall never know in regards to his affairs with other archons.
It wasn’t safe and the ideal that humans would know his true identity as an archon sounded terrifying. Keeping things purely secret would be best for everyone, right? An archon could only hope. “It doesn’t concern you, alright? It’s best if you don't know everything. My friend, when this war is long over, I will tell you everything”.
Holding a hand on a wooden spoon, carefully stirring a rather medium size pot of filling stew, he sighed softly. Messy braids and tired eyes, there wasn’t much to hide behind these days. His smile would drop and hope was silently and slowly running out. A dream for freedom sounded utterly ridiculous. Poetry was an escape from a cruel reality. “Barbatos, I don’t think I will see the end of this hellish war”
“Whatever do you mean by that?” Though, he understood entirely. With death surrounding constantly, all knew what it meant when someone claimed they wouldn’t live to see a clean sky and alliances. Barbatos knew all too well, he was selfish in wanting a direct answer.
The other sighed mindlessly. It was quite obvious yet terrifying to admit verbally.
Dying brutally due to this cruel war.
He couldn’t stay silent forever, that was a forever sign of a genuine coward. With a swallow of meaningless pride, he answered. “I think I’ll die due to this war Barbatos. I’m terrified and as much as I’d like to run off and escape this war, where would I go? Nowhere is safe. I’m stuck and my escape from this hell is to die”
The true struggle of humanity; Their fears and dreads. Most feared simple things, yet this particular one? Death is all he feared. “My friend, you’ll live to see a bird with your own eyes”
“How do you actually know that?”
The archon thought for a brief moment. How did he know that for fact? Truth be told, he truly didn’t. Barbatos could only pray and hope his friend lived through horror and death. The irony of a god praying, laughable yet it was all he could do these days. Arguing with other archons on the behalf of humanity was feeling hopeless. Was just standing by, waiting for everyone to die worth it? “The wind”
“What about the wind?”
“The wind knows. This war will be over soon”.
Gesturing towards the long forgotten journal, his quiet eyes seemed filled with a dreadful hope. “Barbatos, can you promise me something?”
“Anything, what is it?”
“If I die, will you publish my poetry for me?”
Such a heartfelt request, the archon could only reply with one particular set of words. “You’ll live through this, but I promise to be there with you. Alright?”
That particular day would never come for Barbatos. Telling a friend each and every secret imaginable. Joking at the ideals of the other archons; Introducing a lone human to the archons. Being there for human affairs. None of that would ever happen. A peaceful ending to this dreadfilled war would never occur.
Everything would fall on a dreadfully rainy day. Only on a dreadful day.
The archon in question had been carrying a bird’s feather to show his friend, flying freely and casually. As if nothing was wrong and the world was finally healing.
Though that sense of mentality shifted almost instantly to one of speed and concern as the smell of death and decay became more apparent. Screaming and the ideals of dozens dying around him.
Just three days ago, things were perfectly fine; Rainy day and he sat in the company of a friend. Discussion of a war soon ending. Why was this happening now? Was it selfish to want a peaceful ending?
Despite Barbatos’ headcount throughout this war, he found the idea of killing to be heartless. How did Morax do this with a straight face? No amount of joking would cause the geo archon to crack; Perhaps to protect himself from a dreadful truth? Barbatos would never truly know.
He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All he cared about would be finding his friend alive and kicking. Barbatos seemed anxious as he flew around, gripping the feather as if it was truly his treasure. His thoughts were scattered but one particular scream brought him back to reality.
“Barbatos?! Where are you, my friend? Barbatos..?”
Almost instantly he responded. How could he not? It was the screaming of his true friend. “I’m coming to you! Please just remain breathing!”
Unfortunately to the archon, he had not prayed enough. His hopeful prayers and jokes would never come true. Almost immediately after he begged for the other to remain breathing, he could hear a blood curdling scream.
Something so common in war and in this instance? Depressing more than everything imaginable.
“..Barbatos?”, a weak smile from the one dubbed ‘friend’ as he carefully reached a hand to gently carry the sobbing wisp in his shaky hand. “Barbatos, why do I feel so tired?”
This was not happening, was it? Dropping the bird’s feather, the wind archon’s sobs became rather common. Nearby wind seemed to reflect an archon’s sadness. “You aren’t tired, my friend! Open your eyes, can you do that for me?”
A nod from the other, grateful for the man behind him, hoisting the braided boy up to breathe properly. He wasn’t quite aware yet, but there sat an arrow, piercing through his body. What was the man’s name?
Something, Ragnvindr. Odd, yet that wasn’t important. He opened his fleeting eyes, glazing with tears, he swallowed any reason to scream mindlessly in pain. “Barbatos, do you remember what you promised?”
“Of course, and I promised that you’ll live to see a proper sky and birds. Don’t you remember?”
A weakened chuckle followed by a second nod. How could he forget? “I don’t think it’ll happen, Barbatos”
“I’ve decided on a new name, my friend”
“Why are you telling me now?”
Barbatos wasn’t sure, but right now felt fitting. Amongst the screaming and his dear friend becoming weaker to hold his wisp form, time was of the absolute essence. “Venti, it’s fitting due to my connection with this wind. Do you like it?”
Letting out a hushed sob, the other nodded softly. “Venti? It’s less of a mouthful from Barbatos. I like it. After this war, what will you do?”
“I’m not sure. Become a bard of sorts, laughing along while forgetting these true horrors. What would you like to do?”
Though an answer from the other never came. His friend had passed on soon after learning of a new identity. Barbatos just nodded, carefully moving to sit next to a fallen human.
“Thank you, my friend. You made living through this bearable. Your memory will live on through myself, I promise”
What did the archon mean? Carefully allowing his form to shift; A light glowing blue seemed to surround him as the tears began to mindlessly flow. Barbatos was never sure if he’d ever shift his form ever, though now was the time, no? History would need a form to preserve; A wisp would be described as weak.
After a moment or seven, the light dispersed and a new form sat mindlessly by his friend’s side. Sobbing, the archon had taken the form of his fallen companion in order to keep a memory alive. Wings of ameno and glances of sorrow, he carefully grasped the other’s hand. What was there to say?
This wouldn’t be a funeral without a few words goodbye. He had to say something, right?
Wiping tears with his spare hand, the archon gave a sorrow filled smile before speaking amongst the anger and despair that surrounded him.
“Thank you for being an archon’s true and dear friend. Thank you for everything”.