172 - A God, Radiant

Lin

My crystals came in the post today.

I have one more that will be delivered separately, but overall, I'm already very pleased.

Something about today really feels different, almost like I have even more to look forward to.

Honestly, I haven't felt this way in a long time. It's almost like my godly nature is coming through in full force.

Tomorrow I have another order to be dealt with, but it's not crystals.

But it is healing, because the Gods only know how much I need it.

Whilst my anxiety does come in ways, more often than not, seeing to my needs helps.

Just now, I needed the bathroom. As soon as that was done and I was back in my room, my anxiety dissipated.

Right now, I'm imagining the peace I will experience once I move out of here.

Knowing what I know now, I will choose where I next move to carefully, especially given my circumstances now as a result of rushing straight into accommodation.

As I looked through my notebooks today in a search for the titles for one of my series of novels I'll be writing, I found my memoir notebook.

Nostalgia filled my heart as I turned those pages. I feel like a very different person from the person I was back then. I think I have more gumption now, which is good.

Despite the almost three year gap, I decided to write a new entry.

I wrote of being a God, of bin boy, of most of the changes that have happened over the past few years. Whether it was wise for me to do or not, given that it will be published, I'm not sure how it will be taken. However, I wanted to be honest - and if I am to be a God later known by the multiverse as an ordained deity, I may as well say it out loud. Humanity will come around eventually if they don't initially like it, which honestly, I think they will.

Writing this blog, I can hear a significant amount of banging and noise coming from my neighbour upstairs, who is probably with his friends.

There are many reasons I'd like to leave, and that is one of them.

A caw comes from outside my nemeton window, and I note that it's coming from a crow sitting by it. I look to Sweeney for approval, and he nods. Obviously he can perceive the same scarlet and emerald aura that I can, otherwise he wouldn't allow me anywhere near said bird.

When I approach, I lift the latch, granting the crow a small amount of space to perch. I gently scratch under the crow's chin and around its neck, and it lifts its leg to give me access to the letter tied to it.

Trugarez, little guy.

Opening the letter, I realise that the crow isn't flying away like it usually would. Strange.

The letter reads as follows:

I need someone to cut my hair and find my servant's voice. If you can help me, please open your door.

Meur ras, 

A

There's only one person that could be.

Shoving the door open to my nemeton, I'm faced with a blond haired man suited in silver and steel armour, and a dark haired man in periwinkle robes. Both men look youthful, but I know better.

The dark haired man looks especially wan, and the blond man does his utmost to keep him upright.

Take the sofa.

The blond man nods, and sets the dark haired man down, immediately getting an empty bucket for him. I force the door shut.

What happened to you?

The blond looks between me and the dark haired man, as if considering his words, then speaks.

He tried to speak in Kernewek, but he can't right now.

As he says this, the dark haired man heaves, and as he does, the crow speaks. 

Arhansek!

Flinching, I stare incredulously between them both.

Did Merlin transfer his non bugged ability to speak Kernewek to that Celtic crow?

Arthur nods, and I sigh.

Fucking hell.

I roll my shoulders. 

Give me five minutes.

I go into my system, tapping my main doctor on the shoulder.

I need your help. Merlin's about to throw up crows.

He nods, and turns to his apprentice.

Get the cleaners.

The apprentice nods, and turns back to me.

You'll want resin.

I nod. 

I know. I'll get her.

As I respond with that, I find her standing there, grinning. I shake my head.

If we weren't in system, you'd've given me a bloody heart attack.

She laughs, and hands me a cup, full of resin, before making her exit, mock-saluting me as she goes.

I hand over the resin cup to the main doctor, who fills it with a yellow liquid, followed by mysterious honeyed crystals.

Give this to him, and prepare for black bile and live birds.

I nod, taking the cups. The cleaners arrive just in time, decked in hazmat suits.

Brilliant, thank you.

The old man smiles.

Of course.

Landing back in the nemeton alongside the cleaners, I indicate to Arthur that I'm awake and he acknowledges me, sighing in relief.

Will he be alright?

I nod.

I'll have to transfer his Kernewek back to him, but he'll need to purge whatever's bugged him.

I hand Merlin the cup, and he takes a miniscule sip, before hastily putting the cup down to retch into the bucket Arthur helpfully placed by the sofa. The cleaners rush to his side, as I quietly transfer the Kernewek back to Merlin's name, lifting the boon on him speaking it.

Merlin writhes and vomits, leaning on each cleaner's arm within reach as black sick comes up, followed by a host of birds, dead and alive: pigeons, gulls, norse corvids such as crows, jackdaws and magpies, and one dove, which I take down myself. 

His bile begins to turn red, then yellow as he slowly calms down, and his need to throw up decreases. He hurls one last time, and out comes what looks like a cube embossed with letters. By its aura, it is very much cursed. Myself and Sweeney exchange looks, seething.

That's a dolya.

For reference, a dolya is an object that is given to a person to cast a boon on them to give them an ability that is cursed for them to use, and will often come with specific, cruel conditions to punish the person with if they do use said ability. 

It explains Merlin's sickness as a result of trying to speak it, as well as the fact that himself and Arthur came to me to sort it out - they knew I was the closest Brythonic relative that could help who had a grasp of Cornish, and knew it was unlikely that anyone would try to pretend to be me, especially now, given my position.

I offer Merlin a glass of water, which he gladly accepts.

Meur ras.

Wrth gwrs. Though given how much you've just thrown up, you probably shouldn't speak.

He nods, but feels the need to enunciate something else.

Arhansek.

I nod.

I know. You're very welcome here, mignon.

He smiles gratefully, but tightly, and washes his mouth out into the bucket until he is satisfied, then drinks the remainder of the blessed water. As he finishes, he reaches for the cup full of yellow liquid, and begins to drink the rest of it too, but at a steady pace.

The cleaners take the bucket away, and Arthur takes the cup into the kitchen. I'm about to tell him he doesn't need to.

I insist.

I nod, and sit by Merlin, marvelling at his intelligence. To think that he would transfer his debugged ability to speak Cornish to a Celtic bird in order to protect it is something only he could come up with in a situation like that.

You're amazing.

He smiles, a full one now, signing 'thank you' to me in British Sign Language. I can't help but smile back, as he knows that makaton is partly how I learned English in this life, so for him to sign to me feels like a compliment.

Arthur comes back in, smiling too.

Thank you, Lin.

I nod.

Of course. You're both family.

I think for a minute, then grin, pointing to his long hair.

Do you still want that haircut?

He cackles.

Do I ever? Fetch your sword, then.

I smile, and bring out Fairfield, the sword I usually use for ceremonies and haircuts for family. If you don't know, in Celtic and Brythonic tradition, only family members tend to cut or modify each other's hair. So the voldys cutting my hair or forcing me to go to a hairdresser's not chosen by myself or my family is one of the highest forms of insult you can think of.

I take a pail of blessed water, a bucket to put stray hair in and a dustpan and brush to clean up said hair, keeping them at my side as I begin to slice away at Arthur's hair. Sweeney smiles.

Looks good so far, lad!

I nod, grinning.

Do you still want it slightly long and shaggy?

He nods.

That actually sounds nice. Let's see if it fits my face.

I chop, and chop, and chop, being careful to be both intricate and non abrasive to Arthur's face, neck and shoulders. It works well, and his hair ends up looking like a blond lion's mane, which suits him well.

I pass him a mirror, and he grins.

Excellent.

As he stands, I begin to sweep up the hairs, but he shakes his head, prompting me to stand.

You allowed me and Merlin into your home to make a mess. At least let one of us clean up after ourselves.

I sigh, and nod, allowing him to quickly and efficiently sweep his hair into the dustpan, then into the bucket.

Done. Easy.

He ruffles my hair, and I cast him a questioning look.

Would you like to stay for tonight? 

He pauses, considering for a minute.

We can have Five Guys.

He laughs.

Alright. We'll stay.