Chapter Text
It all started as a swirling mass of stars.
A concept of two consciences, desire burning in a world of nothing. Desire to make that world something — something exciting, unforgettable, even if there wasn’t yet such concepts. There was much to be done, there was much to become.
Two hearts burning like fires in the cold void, fingers of souls reaching out toward one another from across the masses of nothing. Nothing but thought. No concern of origin, for this was the beginning. Soft fingers intertwined, two sets of flesh, some metaphor for palms meeting. Two vague forms pressing at each other like clay, molding a body from thick dust.
Slowly, they formed from the cosmic powder, eyes locked on one another as they wove silky fog into sheets, stitching each other together with the stars as their needles. Up and down, in and out, slowly they became.
Pressing features into their faces to formulate expressions, springs in their limbs to bounce back upright in this void. Smiles of pride, gazing upon the face of the other, so beautifully pieced together and pulled together.
Two clouds of cosmic dust became Gods. Crafted by the hands of one another like pottery, masterpieces finally fired, embraced with only the cold of this limbo as their kiln. There was nothing but them.
“Delilah,” He said. His first word husky, having never had a throat to clear.
“Arthur,” She responded smoothly.
“It’s nice to meet you.” They spoke in unison.
“Was the first breath as sharp for you as it was for me?” Arthur chuckled.
“It stings, but it’s the pain that’s relief.” Delilah said.
“You turned out lovely.”
“As did you, we must truly be masters of creation.” She said, “It would be a waste to hang here in this darkness, wouldn’t it?”
“What do you suggest we make?”
She considered his question for hardly a moment. “We’ve created each other, what better than a child?”
“Our child?”
“No, simply a child. He’ll be nothing like us, That’s what we’ll love about him. He’ll be one of a kind.”
“We cannot create him in a world of nothing, though. That’s cruel.”
“Cruel.” Delilah smiled. “If I am cruel, and you are kind, he must be something in between. But I see your point. However we raise him, it won’t be here. He’ll have a garden to take root in.”
“Gardenview.” Arthur suggested.
“Interesting. I think that will work.”
In half a moment, a ground started to form beneath them. Their feet met the dirt from which grass sprung, slightly stumbling as this new force of gravity materialized from their thoughts. The world pieced together outward, bricks formed around this miniature meadow, containing it. A single sapling burst from the center as wooden floors appeared around the center. A purple carpet followed suit, fibers erupting from the floor. And it continued. Outwards, the center came into being, the founders watching in awe.
“He’ll love it here.” Arthur grinned, looking tired. “There are plenty of memories for him to make.” He leaned down, picking up a stone and turning it in his hands. “I don’t want him to be lonely, though.” The rock trembled in his hand, and he could feel a pulse. It opened its eyes and yawned, small stumpy legs forming and a little wagging tail.
Delilah laughed. “It looks quite stupid.”
“He’s only just been born,” Arthur defended.
“It’s affectionate, I know it’ll be a smart thing when it’s older.” She glanced up, humming in thought. She reached high towards the glass ceiling, grabbing a piece of the moon as if it were just above her. The logic wasn’t there, but they were Gods, so the world bent to their fingertips. She squeezed the rock in her palm tight, compressing it with ease. When she opened her palm, a small blue creature sat there. Delilah examined it for a second before asking, “Should I retry?”
“Why?”
“I didn’t mean to give him so many arms.”
“I’m sure it’ll come in ‘handy’.”
Delilah frowned, unamused. “Sure.”
They each looked around for more inspiration. Arthur took a pale flower and carefully picked off the petals, so only the center was left, and soon it grew into a young green berry. Delilah found a shell, emptying it of the creature inside, and new life took over the body. Finally, Arthur found a screw from a vent, mostly desperate for another idea, and worked it into a small metal child.
They all looked so small and helpless. Reaching out with small hands, hardly aware of the world. The shell grabbed at the rock’s tail, and the rock bit her in retaliation. She started crying.
Arthur picked her up, rocking her in his arms and shushing her while Delilah sighed.
“I can’t imagine raising these things alongside the child,” She said. “Perhaps we should create some caretakers for them?”
“I don’t understand what you mean, they’ll grow up quickly. It should only be a few weeks.” Arthur continued to rock the shell, who was already falling asleep. “We haven’t even named them, and you want to set them aside?”
“We have to focus on our child. He must be the center of our attention.”
“But their names?”
“Easy,” She said. “Just name them from their origins. Pebble, Shelly, Sprout,” She hesitated for a moment, looking at the blue child. “Astro? And… you made this one from a vent screw? How about vvv… Vee.”
“She’s much more than a vent screw.”
“I’m sure, I’m sure. A vent screw wouldn’t need a caretaker. So let us get to that, hmm?”
Arthur sighed, carefully setting down a now calm Shelly with her friends in the grass. “How do you suggest we make them?”
“Our blood. Three drops from each of us, to keep things even.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Can’t we just raise them ourselves?”
“I know it’s important that we disagree, but why are you so adamant on raising them yourself? We have something much more important to create.”
“You said that you are cruel, and I am kind.”
“I did say that, didn’t I? Well, we should get this over with, I think it might hurt.” A knife formed in either hand, and she held one out for Arthur. “You make the first cut.”
Arthur took the knife, and waiting for Delilah’s hand to fall back to her side. It didn’t. “I cut you?”
“It’s easier to hurt someone else. I don’t want you getting cold feet.”
Arthur took her hand in his, holding her wrist softly. He looked at the blade, then at her palm. He pressed the tip in slightly, pulled away at her hiss of protest.
“It needs to draw blood,” She gritted her teeth. “Go deeper.”
Arthur carefully pressed the blade harder, feeling the flesh split against the metal.
A black drop beaded, and she pulled away, flicking the drop at the ground. It hit the rug and sizzled, and the smoke upwards. When it dissipated, there stood a featureless figure, hands held out, waiting.
“Now it’s my turn.” She said, gripping her knife. She took his hand, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, and pressed hard into his palm, holding tight when he yelped and tried to yank away. A drop of gold beaded quickly, running down his hand and dripping on the floor. “That should be enough that I don’t have to cut you again.”
Delilah let another drop fall from her palm onto the ground. Another fell from Arthur’s, and soon there were four figures waiting for purposes.
“And the fifth one?” Arthur asked.
Delilah grabbed his wounded hand with her own, caressing it. “This one will be from both of us. A tiebreaker of sorts, if it were to come to that.” She released his hand, flicking down, and the last drop of black and gold hit the floor. “Now it’s done.” She wrapped her hand in her sleeve, walking to the tree. She picked up Pebble, handing him to the figure born of both of them. The figure finally took form, brown hair growing and a pair of wings ripping through his back. “This is Devan.” She stated. “Your turn, Arthur.”
Arthur picked up Shelly, handing her to a figure. She grew her wings and hair too, and Arthur named her Sharon.
Delilah gave Sprout to the angel she named Sam.
Arthur gave Astro to the angel he named Austin.
Finally, Delilah handed Vee to an angel she named Veronica.
“I think this world is ready for the child now.” Arthur said. He looked over the grass thoughtfully before carefully choosing a single blade, plucking it like a feather. He wrapped it in his hands, cupping his fingers around it. “Place your hands around mine.”
“Are we really going to make him from a single blade of grass?”
“I’d like you to trust me, Delilah.”
Delilah hesitated before wrapping her hands around his. “It won’t be my fault if he is imperfect.”
“Imperfection is the very nature of life,” Arthur said with a knowing smile. “It’s our duty to make him flawed, so he may have challenges to overcome.” The blade of grass writhed against his palm, dancing in the soft confines.
“There are so many more things to overcome than the issues within.”
“Delilah, please focus.”
“Arthur, you can’t seriously believe that we did this all for him to come out less than perfect.”
“Delilah, you have your own flaws.”
“You carved me from the stars, my flaws are your fault.”
The air around their palms warmed like the creations of a sun, and he was born. Not of love or hate, but instead of passion. Hardly larger than their hands, his petals curled over his face, like a ball of kneaded dough.
His face unfurled, colorful petals surrounding a round face full of wonder. Born into a world that had only existed for an hour, just as curious to explore it as its creators. He didn’t know it was all for him.
Arthur didn’t want to tell him that it was all for him. He wanted the child to stay humble. Delilah wanted him to know, though. She prodded at his stomach with one finger, earning a giggle from the flower.
“Well, you just look so special.” She smiled. “And to think I doubted you, Arthur. Forgive me.”
“Would you like to hold him?”
Delilah took him from Arthur’s arms, holding him close to her chest. No bigger than an apple, face full of baby fat and a wide smile. “You’re just the most precious thing. You’re a special little guy, you know that? You’re my favorite little flower.” She ran her fingers along his petals as he cooed. “So squishy and vulnerable. You’ll get over that when you’re older, I’m sure.” She turned her attention to her partner. “What should we name him, then?”
“I was thinking Dandy. Since, I’m sure he’ll be a ‘dandy fellow’ to be around.” Arthur gently squeezed the child’s cheeks, who gripped his finger with a tiny hand.
Delilah snorted. “That’s hilarious. I love it. Well Dandy,” She gestured out. “Look at the world, know it as your own. Welcome to Gardenview.” She stared out for a moment before sighing. “Is he really only going to have the five friends? It’s stiflingly empty in here.”
“We could make more, there’s plenty to work with.”
“What do you think about admirers? And he needs to have a reason for all this place being his own.”
“He could be the star of a… learning center for children. People come to visit him, and his friends.”
“Yes, and it could be so popular that there was a visual program inspired by it, with him as the main character. We could expand this center to have so much more. People come from all around to talk to him, they could practically see him as a god.”
“Perhaps not that level of devotion. But the rest of that sounds wonderful.”
“And I’m sure there's enough lying around to create a whole cast. That glass pane there, do we need that? It’s plenty big to create several creatures.”
“How do we make the guests, though? And should we make more angels for them?”
“No, I think we have enough angels. As for guests, I’m not sure. I don’t think they need to be… unique, per se, they just need to be excited to be here. Variation, of course, so nothing is boring, but not too individual. They don’t need depth.”
“I don’t think I can create that many people. I don’t think you can, either. I don’t think that the two of us put together have enough ideas to work with.”
“We could just make concepts of people. An illusion. No souls or anything of the sort, but enough body to pretend to have a soul. They’ll visit, interact excitedly with the toons, then head out the door until they need to be perceived again. Empty vessels.”
“That seems cruel.”
“This is now your third time calling me that, I don’t think you have to say it again. It’ll be alright, as long as they don’t find out. They’ll be happy as long as they have someone to greet.” Delilah adjusted Dandy in her arms, looking down at him. “Devan, you were made of mixed blood, you are twice as much as the others. Can I trust you to care for the both of them while we perfect this world?”
Devan, surprised to recognize a name as his own, straightened his posture. “Of course, Delilah.”
“I trust you to do well.” She handed Dandy over, looking hesitant, placing him in Devan’s free arm. “Let us know if he needs anything.”
Devan nodded with his hands full. “I can handle it.”
Arthur smiled. “We will be back for him. And to all of you, please never let them know the nature of the world. Don’t let them find out. Care for them like your own.”
“We certainly will,” Veronica said.
“You can count on us.” Sam agreed.
“Forgive me for questioning, but what would happen if they were to find out?” Devan shifted both toons in his arms with a nervous expression.
“There would probably be a panic. I’m not sure how bad, but it’s best we don’t try to find out.” Arthur said. “I trust you all to make sure that never happens?”
“Yes, we expect you’ll do nothing but please us. Arthur, let’s start.”
Arthur said nothing, staring off at the ground in thought. Delilah tapped his arm, snapping him out of it.