165.5 - A God, Noting

Lin

Somehow, I need to write this appendice about bin boy, for the sake of catharsis over a hunch I have about what he did to me spiritually.

Here goes.

Whatever he did to me with his intentions, whatever he did with his words spiritually, it feels like somehow, he cheated. Like somehow, this power was not his, because he wasn't powerful enough on his own. Maybe it was borrowed.

Or, more likely, stolen.

Now that I think about it, for most of that argument, I had no witty retorts, no answer to give him, no remark to rebuke him with.

I was frozen.

Maybe I'm right in thinking that something was, perhaps, stolen from me that day.

At the time, when he told me to get out, I felt something happen to my heart, as if something was ripped out. And he had the nerve to accuse me of stealing his things when I left them in plain sight, and told a trusted adult where they were.

Theft on a spiritual scale, on that level, is wholly unacceptable.

Perhaps it would explain my unceasing anger over everything that happened near half a year later.

From what I do know, he did know rickmansworth and the voldys, and communicated with them, despite trying to use the fact that we had both 'survived' cults to try and guilt trip me.

Keep in mind, I didn't 'survive' the cult, first and foremost - I actually died numerous times. What's more, given that he's literally still fraternising with other cult members, he technically isn't a 'survivor', because the bastard's still in the fucking cult.

Wait.

Did he steal my heart?

Whether he did or not I'm unsure, but whatever he stole has been stopping me from taking appropriate care of myself, and therefore prevented me from doing my job.

This bastard is rickmansworth's lackey for sure.

Either way, I need to do a tarot reading on whatever he stole, before it gets misused any further.

That way, my system can do damage control, and I can finally go home.

Returning from my cards, I now know that my abilities were taken as part of some kind of boon.

A boon in this case, unlike in Hindu mythology, is when a person stakes claim to another person's abilities to control and abuse them.

On the spiritual plane, I open a space to speak with bin boy's boon collector, a giant-ogre.

Can not give passage.

I look him up and down. Steel chains attach him to both the boons and bin boy, who is paying no attention to our conversation.

Please. Those abilities are mine.

He cocks his head.

What will Rokson get?

Fishing out a piece of enchanted amethyst, I toss it over to him. Said amethyst is imbued with spiritual protections, which would defend both himself and his bloodline from harm, as well as help in any healing he needs to do. It's also very powerful for psychic abilities, and it may well do him some good on that front to be something beyond a boon keeper with that kind of ability.

He gives me an ivory toothed grin that juts out of his mouth, and lets his axe fell the chains connecting him to both the boon and bin boy.

Rokson thanks you, little God.

I smile.

Of course.

He turns to bin boy, who clearly heard the commotion and is about to scream at me as I surround the boon with a force field of electricity and pull it over to me.

Little man did not keep to his deal. Rokson does not like that.

He picks bin boy up by his hoodie.

Puny men like you do not deserve to breathe, yet you insult the very presence of a true God. Rokson, by principle, cannot accept this. Rokson will punish!

Grunting, he throws bin boy to the floor, and myself and Terrence unanimously decide that it's time to leave.

Cheers, buddy!

For a minute, Rokson turns, smile still intact.

Of course. Rokson does good.

Myself and Terrence exchange looks, smiling, and return to my nemeton.

Well, that was something.

I load up the fireplace, using my lighter to begin a new fire. As it begins to crackle, I toss the boon onto it.

Fuck you too, talking trash can.

Terrence cackles.

Serves him right. 

Sparks rise from the flames, and as they do, so do marigold petals. They float around me, whirling to land and sink into my skin.

I've missed this feeling.

He gently puts his hands on my shoulders.

Then I'll make sure you can feel it as much as possible.

I turn, finding solace and gratitude in his arms.

Trugarez. For being there.

He holds my face in his hands.

Atav. (Always.)