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Deus Eggs Machina
And so Life and Death had created the Rutting Sea, and too created Mount Oranshead and the Forbidden Steppes from his body; and all wondered at the Defeat of Oran.
Life journeyed onward, falling into the clutches of the Mad King Lex. Imprisoned for a millennia, the Night Sky drew dark and colourless, and all feared the wrath of Death. All waited for the return of Life, and the stars to the sky.
For a millennia, Death wandered, until he returned to destroy the kingdom of Lex; reuniting freedom to Life, and the stars to the sky.
And so, Destruction and Rebirth visited all the lands and the waters of the earth, reshaping them as they saw fit, and were pleased.
Translated Cuneiform Inscription from stone pillar, Temple of the Bat, Gotham, circa 8000 years BCE.
~*~
The Fell Forest and the Water Plains spread their reaches further and further out as Death and Life visited each one in turn.
Blutport continued to flourish on the shores of the Rutting Sea, and soon after it was joined by the settlement of Gotham, the newest temple to the Bat, the Creator and Originator of All.
The Gods looked upon the world and saw that what they had wrought was good, and the peoples of the earth rejoiced in the splendour of their pleasure.
Translated Cuneiform Inscription from stone pillar, Temple of the Bat, Gotham, circa 8000 years BCE.
~*~
The Lost of the Fell Forest, and the Illumination of the Water Plains (Excerpt from the Book of Beginnings, circa 6000 BCE.)
Then Death came upon a place the sun did not touch when risen upon the horizon. The beings within the forest had never seen light, and fled from the starlight of Nightwing’s tail.
The small blind creatures turned their faces from the light and warmth, and so the dark gloomy forest became chill and frozen, preventing all warm blooded things from entering. Beyond the Fell Forest lay only icy wasteland, fit for no living warm thing. Only the heavily furred creatures with ice water for blood could stay there. No light touched the snow and seas beyond the Fell Forest, for the sun dared not venture there for fear of being lost in the swathes of white.
Only when Life spread the stars in the sky, did the Sun dare to peek over the horizon, sending light to shimmer on the frost. The stars and Moon followed in her wake, and the Water Plains became a place of desolate beauty.
Iásōn, Death and Destruction, took the Water Plains to his heart, and declared it the place of lost things, home to only the bravest and hardiest of creatures, a safe haven for the light and cold.
Nightwing gave them the gift of the Light Winds, all the glimmering, shimmering, colours of the warm places to play across the sky at night, to remind those who live there that they belong to a special place.
***
Iásōn rages for an entire year when he realises that Nightwing can’t and won’t be found. He’s looked every place there is, and as Death, there’s no place barred to him or his sight. But no one has heard of Nightwing. The sky at night is starting to grow dim; the far distant stars are not as bright, and even the moon and sun seemed to be less strong, as if they miss Nightwing as much as Iásōn does.
He’s even visited the Bat to try to find Nightwing. The look of horror on the younger gods faces when Iásōn had told them that it had been over a month since they last spoke is enough to even have Aelfraed look concerned. Nightwing doesn’t stop talking, not to anyone, not even Death when they argue. No one would think anything of Iásōn slipping away for time to himself, mostly because he can usually be found somewhere in the depths of the Water Plains.
But it’s not Iásōn who has left. It’s Nightwing.
The last Iásōn saw of him, he was headed towards the kingdom of Lex, the mad king that Iásōn’s tentacles have been itching to reap. There’s just something wrong with him, and the sooner he’s in the underworld the better, as far as Iásōn’s concerned. But nothing more has been heard of Nightwing since then. No one’s seen him, and the few people Iásōn’s talked to are either too terrified of him to make sense, or they know nothing.
Iásōn spends years scouring the earth, desperately trying to find his lover, all while the night sky dims more and more; until finally there’s nothing buy dark clouds at night, and Iásōn has no choice but to fear the worst.
It’s been twenty years since anyone saw Life flying in the sky, and even the Bat makes the journey to Bludport to visit Iásōn, and hear from his own lips exactly how strange Nightwing’s absence is. The visit ends with Iásōn forcefully making the Bat leave; and is the starting point of Iásōn’s year long raging, during which the landscape of one very particular area is forever changed by Iásōn’s tentacles from a mountain range carefully created by the Bat, into a series of long rolling hills.
He spends the next two hundred years wandering, hidden in the guise of a simple human, hoping against hope that maybe as one of the people he might hear a rumour or whisper that will lead him to Nightwing.
But nothing does. Iásōn neglects his duties to the point that even the Kingdom of Lex starts to offer sacrifices, in the hopes of luring him back to work. Iásōn takes the sacrificed back to Bludport, putting them to work as his agents in the city, dealing with all the humans who now live there after several centuries, while he secludes himself away from everything and grieves the loss of his lover.
Nightwing is alive, unreachable and untouchable, no matter what Iásōn does.
***
The Creation of the Great Fern Downs. (Excerpt from the Book of Beginnings, circa 6000 BCE.)
Iásōn’s great limbs struck down onto the tips of the Tallwall mountain ranges, causing such great cracks and crevices that the mountains trembled and quaked under the great and mighty power of his arms. With each consecutive blow, the height of the mountain range began to reduce; boulders and great chunks of stone such as the size of palaces and temple feel down from the mountain tops to the plains beneath.
Death’s unapposed rage at losing Life could not be quelled, and the tallest of the mountains crumbled under his assault, his mighty tentacles crashing down continually until the tallest of the range was naught but rubble and each piece of rock fled his rage to form gentle rolling heels beneath his feet in the hopes he may finish. Nothing but the return of Nightwing could be a balm to Iásōn’s fury. Facing each mountain in turn, Iásōn crushed them down, pulverising the spine of them all, until nothing but the soft rolling hills were spread out over the plains below, and even the place where the mountains had once stood was hollowed out.
Seeing nothing left to focus his rage on, Death moved on to another place, and another, until his burning fury had consumed him, and he could only return to Blutport to recover, from whenceforth he stayed, refusing to venture out into the world unless the people gave him a great sacrifice every hundred year, when he would grant a single wish of prosperity to the people.
In time, the winds swept the ground of the earth over the wasteland of rocks and boulders, covering the hills to a softer, gentler place, with ferns and grasses following them, leading to a dry sea of greenery, standing as tall as houses, forever blowing in the winds of the place.
~*~
The Tale of the Wanderer. (Excerpt from the Book of the Forsaken, circa 5000 BCE.)
Once, a man wandered the earth, looking for his most precious thing; something long lost and patiently waiting to be found. He went from place to place, constantly searching, never to find what he was looking for. As he travelled, he met many people, saw many things, and did things no one would believe; but none of this moved his heart, which had turned to ice at the loss of his precious thing.
Once day he came upon a place in an ocean of sand that was deserted by the tribe of the land; as several demons had taken up residence around the oasis. The demons prevented the tribe from fetching water from the oasis, forcing them to barter for the life giving liquid from tribes further away. This caused them many hardships as they were a poor tribe and had little to barter with, forcing them to trade what they couldn’t do without; their children.
The Wanderer took exception to this, and in return for a single cooked meal, and a night by the fire, the Wanderer promised to vanquish the demons. The tribespeople didn’t believe that the Wanderer could really take down the demons that had been plaguing them for years, but their custom was to feed and house whoever fortune brought to their door, so they agreed; and the Wanderer had a hearty meal and a good night’s sleep close to the hearth of the tribe.
The next morning the Wanderer headed out to the oasis, preparing for battle. His strong arms held no weapons; his strong legs carried him over the sand dunes with no need for a camel. When he arrived at the oasis, the demons were lying about, as if they’d had a great party the night before and were suffering the ill after effects of too much alcohol. To most, this would be of great benefit, but the Wanderer had no cares. He strode into the cool shallow water of the shore of the oasis, and without a word he unleashed fury upon the demons there.
He spread his arms wide, planting his feet firmly in the shallow waters and let his tentacles whip out in a whirl around him, instantly lashing the nearest demons with mighty blows. The screams of the demons fighting him echoed over the sand dunes; the oasis tribespeople huddled in their houses, terrified of the ghastly cries.
The battle raged for a full day, with more and more demons creeping from the world beneath the earth, as the oasis was a joining point between the underworld and this one; trying their best against the untiring Wanderer.
One lone brave soul had crept from his house; taking great care not to be spied by the demons, he watched the battle from the arrival of the Wanderer at the oasis, until it finished, not daring to move while from the spectacle. It was as if a sandstorm had arrived at the oasis, whipping the sand up into the air. But this was no storm; this was the power of the Wanderer, his powerful limbs whirling around as a barrier, while picking off demon after demon. Soon the dregs of demons began pulling their dead and wounded back below the ground, leaving only the most powerful to battle the Wanderer.
The stronger demons fare no better against the Wanderer, falling to ground dead once the impaling tentacle is pulled from their bodies. All throughout the battle, the Wanderer’s face had stayed impassive, as if he were merely swatting flies, not demons; even when they cried for mercy, none was granted.
Once the last was felled, the Wanderer stepped out of the cool waters of the oasis, and walked out into the desert without a backwards glance at the carnage left behind. The tribesman brave enough to witness the battle ran home, his hair turned entirely white at the sight. The Wanderer was never seen in the desert again, but near the desert oasis stands a small shrine that the tribespeople give thanks to.
***
“You remember how we made the Rutting Sea?” Nightwing says out of nowhere one day.
“Of course.” Iásōn grins, vividly remembering defeating Oran, and Nightwing rewarding him with kisses and a lot more that lead to a lot of landscaping and pleasure.
“We should do that again.” Nightwing says airily. “Right now in fact.”
“You want to make another sea?” Iásōn says with an idle grin. As much fun as remaking a geographical feature is, it wasn’t in his plans for today. Not that he has any plans besides staying in bed with Nightwing.
“Yes, but also sex.” Nightwing grins. He twists up onto his knees, moving to straddle Iásōn. “You remember how much fun it was to really let loose of out power and lose ourselves to passion. Let’s do it again!”
“Really? Right now?” Iásōn smirks up at his lover. He rests his hands on Nightwing’s hips, letting a tentacle out to stroke gently up and down his spine, making Nightwing shiver and sigh in pleasure.
“We can find somewhere uninhabited! Do you prefer making a mountain, a lake, or, I don’t know, a waterfall, maybe?” Nightwing tilts his head back, letting the tentacle play in his hair.
“Wherever you want.” Iásōn nods, sitting up, ready to start kissing his lover into a frenzy.
“Then let’s go!” Nightwing effortlessly flows onto his feet, turning on his heel to walk over to the large opening specifically designed to let him fly out.
“Alright, you go find somewhere, I’m right behind you.” Iásōn says, resigning himself to having to actually move if he’s going to get his leg over today.
“Oh, you will be!” Nightwing laughs, transforming into his bird form and taking off before Iásōn has the chance to say anything witty back.
When Nightwing finally stops flying, Iásōn is mere moments behind him. Nightwing sets down on a two-tiered plain, with a large river running along the edge of the top tier. It’s been a long while since either of them transformed into their larger versions, and Iásōn rolls his shoulders and neck, feeling free and wild. Nightwing turns to look over his shoulder, the laugh clear in his eyes and a smile on his face. He drops his robes, facing towards the cliff that separates the two tiers.
It takes barely three strides for Iásōn to plaster himself to Nightwing’s back, kissing along his throat and shoulder. Nightwing reaches up and back, pushing his hand into Iásōn’s hair, the other gripping onto his hip. He leans back, forcing Iásōn to take his weight. It forces Iásōn’s feet deeper into the soft earth beneath them, giving him an idea. It takes only one motion forward to force them both to their knees, landing hard enough that the impact leaves craters. Iásōn’s tentacles whip out, pushing at the ground surrounding them until the dirt starts piling up into hills.
Nightwing keeps bending forward until he’s on his hands and knees, throwing an inviting smirk over his shoulder at Iásōn; one that he’s quick to take up. Iásōn uses his tentacles to open his breeches up, resting his hands on Nightwing’s hips. Another tentacle gives Nightwing the most cursory preparation, all it needs to do since Nightwing’s still loose and wet from the night before. Iásōn’s cock slides home inside of Nightwing with ease, causing them both to moan. From there, it’s easy to fall into a familiar rhythm, rocking in and out of his lover at the exact angle it takes to make him fall apart, crying out loudly. Nightwing twists his top half, staring up at Iásōn with pleasure hazed eyes, and a smile on his lips.
Slamming into Nightwing is the same breathtaking sensation it’s always been, and Iásōn relishes the tight warm of his lover every single time. The sweet friction, and the ways their bodies mould into one another is as perfect as ever. Iásōn leans forward over Nightwing’s back, pushing him down from his hands to his elbows to grind in deeper. The earth beneath them shifts, moving to the side and all around them with every thrust driving them even deeper down.
Nightwing’s moans are the sweetest music; and all Iásōn wants is to hear more. He leans even closer, kissing along Nightwing’s sweat soaked shoulders and neck. Shaking his head, sweat drops are flung all around them, causing plants and flowers to start budding on the mounds of earth they’re moving.
Nightwing’s arm shoots out, and he braces himself on the cliff that they’re suddenly much closer to than before. Iásōn hadn’t even noticed they’d moved so far over. Nightwing’s fingers claw into the stone, ripping out a huge chunk as Iásōn picks up the pace. Nightwing pushes back, harder and faster, screaming his pleasure to the skies as he tries to rise back on his arms. Iásōn wraps him in his tentacles, sitting back to thrust up into his waiting lover. Nightwing cries out once more, almost brokenly. and much quieter as his body clenches down, seizing as comes with tears running down his face. With a roar, Iásōn comes deep inside Nightwing, feeling bone-deep satisfaction.
Iásōn rolls to his side, pulling out of Nightwing. The smell of flowers surrounds them, and he looks around to see what they’ve created. Where was once a flat, two-tiered plain, is now two rows of high hills; they’re lying in the valley between them. The deep gouge into the cliff Nightwing had made is now a proper hollow; the cliff itself having fallen in on itself to the point that the river’s bank has been breached, leading it to split into two. Iásōn’s pretty sure that once they move, the new waterfall will create a secondary saltwater river between the hills covered in flowers.
“We made something pretty.” Nightwing says with a tired chuckle.
“You like it?” Iásōn asks, shifting his arm to under his head. “I think it was worth the effort.”
“I love it.” Nightwing sighs happily, resting his head on Iásōn’s chest.
***
“This really is a wide open place.” Nightwing says, eyeing the rolling hills and valleys, the light breeze blowing the tall grasses gently.
“It used to be the Tallwall mountain range.” Iásōn says, rubbing idly at the back of his neck. If he’s slightly embarrassed about how much he changed the landscape, well, he’s not going to let Nightwing know that.
“...The mountain range that was so big even the Bat thought it was too much?” Nightwing raises an eyebrow. “How did that happen?”
Iásōn coughs, looking away. “Well... I didn’t really cope with losing you too well.”
“I remember the stories Dick heard growing up.” Nightwing nods, turning to look south at where the tallest mountain used to stand. In its place is the deepest valley.
“The centuries’ passing might have softened the stories of the actual way I dealt with it.” Iásōn admits hesitantly. He rests an arm over Nightwing’s shoulders and tugs him in close to his side. “I flattened the mountain range, among many other places.”
“You did this?” Nightwing warps his arm around Iásōn’s waist. “For me?”
“I went insane after I realised that I wasn’t gonna find you. I kept hope for so many years, and then I couldn’t anymore. I took it out on the world. There’s good reason for the people to fear me.” Iásōn sighs heavily. “Except for Bludport; I left that alone and retreated away, which is why so many of them left.”
“Oh...” Nightwing bites his lip, sorrow in his eyes. “While I’m not happy about how it happened, I like this much better than those mountains.”
“Yeah?” Iásōn lets a smile slip onto his face, and the sorrow fades from Nightwing’s eyes as he squeezes Iásōn’s waist.
“Yes.” Nightwing looks around again, tilting his head as he stares at the great ferns that give the Downs their name. “But it’s still not the right place though.”
“This is the fifth place we’ve been, it’s be a lot easier to pick the right one if I knew what you’re looking for.” Iásōn says, a frown forming on his face. “I know you want it to be a surprise, but a hint would help.”
“If the next place isn’t right, I’ll give you a hint, I promise.” Nightwing laughs, and it dips into tones of Dick’s all too human nervousness.
It’s a clue that this search really is important to Nightwing, so Iásōn swallows down the annoyance at trying to provide him a place with no idea why, and thinks of the various types of places they haven’t been yet.
“Hmm, there’s an oasis in the desert that I haven’t been to for a few centuries... Does sand sound good?”
“No, that’s too dry.” Nightwing lifts a hand to tap his lower lip with a finger. “Needs to be somewhere with food nearby.”
“Alright, so what I’ve worked out so far is that you want food nearby.” Jason holds up a hand to tick off the list on his fingers. “Somewhere isolated that animals won’t get to, shelter from the elements, somewhere we can get to easily; and it needs to be spacious. That about right?”
“Yes.” Nightwing grins, his eyes crinkling up. “Any guesses why?”
“Not a damn one, lover.” Iásōn shakes his head. “Why don’t we head home for tonight and try again tomorrow?”
“I suppose.” Nightwing sounds disappointed. “Why don’t you bring out some maps when we get back?”
“They’re all up in your tower.” Iásōn kisses Nightwing’s forehead. “But that sounds like a plan.”
The trip home feels shorter than the trip out, probably because Iásōn finally knows what he needs to do next. They arrive at Nightwing’s tower in Bludport Palace, and Nightwing goes straight for the maps, the look of concentration on his face all Dick.
“It really would be easier if I knew what this is all about.” Iásōn says, watching as Dick unrolls a large map over the floor, studying it intently.
“I want it to be a surprise.” Nightwing doesn’t look up; drawing invisible crosses over the places they’ve already been with his finger.
Iásōn shakes his head and goes to sit down next to Nightwing. “Please, lover?”
“Well, I need a good place for our egg.” Nightwing says with a shrug, idly running his hand over the map.
“Egg?” Iásōn blinks, surely it’s far too early for Nightwing to be reborn again, it hasn’t even been a decade. “Already?”
“I know! I was surprised too.” Nightwing says with a blissful smile, his eyes crinkling up again. “But I think we’re going to be excellent parents, Iásōn.”
“Of course we will, my love.” Iásōn agrees without even thinking about it. “Wait! ...Our egg? ...Parents?”
“Yes.” Nightwing pats his stomach gently, reaching out to grab Iásōn’s hand and forcing him to rest it on his barely there egg bump. “We made our own little life.”
“This is the best day ever.” Iásōn says, shocked and awed. He leans in to kiss his love gently, putting all the tenderness and joy he feels into the meeting of their lips. “We’re gonna be parents!”
“You’re going to be such a good father.” Nightwing beams, looking both happy and relieved. “Or you will once we know where I’m nesting.”
“What’s wrong with right here?” Iásōn says, pulling him fully into his arms. “You were reborn here. Your egg was perfectly safe, there’s more than enough food too.”
“Hmm.” Nightwing looks around his tower room. He eyes flick over the bed, the huge opening to the sky that he takes flight from, and the fact that the palace is just down a flight of stairs.
“Yes?” Iásōn can’t stop the wide smile on his face. They’re having a child!
“I guess there’s no place like home.” Nightwing laughs quietly, relaxing into Iásōn’s arms. “It’s perfect.”
“I love you.” Iásōn says fiercely into Nightwing’s ear. His heart is full to bursting with joy.
“I love you too, Iásōn.” Nightwing smiles, so happy that tears start to form.