The origin of love. (Fanfic headcanon.)
So I made up some ridiculous headcanon for Claude Faustus' origin story and then decided to write a fanfic about it. Fuck yeah. This is mostly edited.
The origin of love.
They don't know what else they can do. Standing in a loose circle, their heads bowed low, they mutter to each other that it's time to give up. The Two-Spirits have already left them, gone back to the Father to try to entertain Him in spite of what's happened.
"It's going to be reset," says Crocodile. He has a long face that is covered in scales, and his mouth opens and shuts rapidly when he talks. "That's what I heard-- He's going to reset everything."
Eagle fluffs up his feathers and begins to preen them, he's that anxious. "Who told you that?"
"Snake did," says Crocodile. "Snake said Father would start with us, the One-Spirits, for having failed Him."
"And he would know, since he is the closest Two-Spirit to Father," growls Bear.
"We're doomed!" Rabbit covers her eyes with big, grotesque paws and moans piteously. "The thing we were created to do, and we can't do it!"
Monkey glares at everyone. "If Father can't do it, what made Him believe we could?"
"Shut up, Monkey," is the general consensus.
"What have I got to lose by saying something?" asks Monkey, waving his hand dismissively. "If we're about to be reset regardless, then we can disobey all we want."
"It's the principle of the thing," snaps Eagle. "We ought to have faith in Him."
"That's gotten us nowhere, Eagle."
While a petty disagreement over faith starts up, Horse sighs and shifts her bleary, wobbling black eyes from her comrades to the loner at the back of the group. This recluse One-Spirit is very quiet and different compared to the rest of them, so they usually avoid or ignore him when they can. Horse decides to call out to him, "Spider, do you have any ideas?" on the off-chance they've missed something he hasn't.
Eagle notices and nips at Horse. "Don't talk to him," he says quietly. "Spider isn't like us."
Spider is a very large creation, having eight long legs instead of the formulaic zero or two or four. Forged from light and fire, he glows and gleams even when he isn't moving. He stares at the congregation with eight large, unblinking white eyes, but thus far he hasn't made himself known or tried to join any discussions.
"Indeed," says Spider. "I do have an idea."
Now everyone turns to look at Spider.
"You do?" asks Dog, surprised.
Crocodile has begun to cry, but his gaze is sharp and deadly. "Don't make fools of us, Spider."
"That is not my intention," says Spider, remaining still. "I was asked if I have any ideas, and I'm merely saying I do."
"We've tried everything," grumbles Rabbit.
The rest of the group agrees: "Nothing left!"
But Spider doesn't falter and says, "I have an idea."
Horse looks at Rabbit, who looks at Crocodile, who looks at Monkey, who stares at everyone in disbelief before acknowledging Eagle. Out of all of them, Eagle seems to be in charge.
"... Fine," says Eagle. "Let's have your idea."
"Very well."
With eerie speed for such a large creation, Spider skitters over to the group. They move aside so he can join them, and allow him to see what they were trying to deal with: a quivering hunk of profusely bleeding flesh. This is a human, Spider knows--one that has been recently, permanently separated from its other half. Spider understands this human is a man now, rather than a child of the sun.
The humans staged a revolt against Father, and in retaliation, He tore them apart. They were once two-spirited, but Father decided that they were too dangerous like that; had too much potential. Now every human has been cleaved in twain, one spirit for each piece. It might seem overbearing, but the One- and Two-Spirits value His judgment highly; the humans just don't know how to handle Him yet.
"What are you going to do?" asks Bear, warily.
"Where is the sun?" asks Spider, curiously.
Bear looks at Monkey, who looks at Fox, who has the sun sitting in one of her eye sockets. She reaches up and plucks it out--resting on her paw, the sun looks like a large, inflamed ruby. "Right here," she says, admiring it. "We've already tried this, of course. Father said it had infinite magical properties, but nothing we did with it worked."
"Not even rubbing it in the blood," says Crocodile, sniffling. "And the flesh refuses to cauterize."
Spider stretches out one long leg. "May I hold it?" he asks.
Fox hesitates a little before nodding and balancing the sun on the tip of Spider's leg.
Without warning, Spider eats the sun in one unfathomably greedy bite.
"Does your hunger know no bounds, Spider?" cries Fox.
"Oh for the sake of--" Eagle slaps a wing over his face. "I told you," he says viciously, turning on Horse. "I said as much, didn't I? Now Father is really going to be upset. The sun is one of his favorite creations, and we are supposed to protect it."
"Wait a moment," says Horse, who has noticed something new. "Don't jump to conclusions just yet."
Spider's light is dizzily dancing and flaring atop his gleaming skin. After a moment, he reaches beneath himself and begins to produce silk--and it is an awe-inspiring sort. This silk is made of pure light, pulled and spun into threads that shine as pure gold. When he has conjured an appropriate length of it, he cuts it free and reaches onto his back. His hairs are thin, hollow, and sharp at one end, which make them perfect needles. He plucks off one hair and threads it through with light-silk.
"We haven't done anything to address the aftermath," says Spider. He looks around at everyone, though it's hard to tell when his eyes don't move. "All the humans have to live for is their own despair, so that's all they know. Just repairing the damage isn't enough--we must show them a reason to stop obsessing over the past and what Father did. They should want to see the sun rise tomorrow, instead. They need to be given... hope."
Eagle guffaws, unimpressed. "They should be so lucky that He didn't do worse to them."
"Making them suffer only makes them angrier," Spider says, smiling patiently, "unless they believe it's for a good cause."
Spider crawls on top of the human, switching the needle from one leg to another, and then plunges the needle into the human's torn flesh. The human screams--everyone winces, even Eagle--while Spider begins to suture shut the oozing wound with threads of golden light-silk. They shine right up the back, criss-crossed like ribbons on a corset.
At first, the human can only scream and scream. Crocodile tries to cover his ears, but can't find them. Horse is about to tell Spider to stop it, since it doesn't seem to be helping--and then the human falls silent. Before their very eyes, the torn flesh repairs itself beneath the lattice of shining gold.
"Screams into silence," says Spider, tying the threads off. "There."
Fox gasps quietly. "It's... a miracle."
After the One-Spirits inform Father that they've found a cure, Father arbitrarily dubs the miraculous technique as Love. He orders Spider to perform it on every one of the humans to ease their suffering, post-haste. Love ends the screams and soothes much of the pain, and the humans themselves become preoccupied with the side effects of Love. Needless to say, Spider is seen as the most ingenious One-Spirit, and he goes on to teach Love to every creation new and old. In the whole heavenly host, Snake admires Love the most and Raven is the most suspicious of it.
"It feels warm," says Spider.
Raven frowns. "If you say so."
But the happiness in this story wasn't meant to last. Eventually, Spider was made to Fall thanks to another paranoid panic attack of Father's, long after Morning Star warred against Him with a third of the heavenly host. As punishment for defying conditioning, Spider was stripped of all his beautiful light, his ability to weave golden silk, and most importantly, his understanding of Love.
"Silver inside you," roared Father. An everlasting curse. "Like the rest of your brethren, Spider! Silver is all you're worth!"
However, the golden orb-weaver spider, which yields gold instead of silver, was created as a mocking reminder of this sinful day.
Hateful and embittered, Spider quickly adjusted to his new life as a daemon, surprising some of his fellow Fallen and making jealous others. When he was ready, he bedecked himself in precious gold and went in search of hottest passion to fill up the gaping hole inside his belly. As the originator of Love, he used it to hunt for and make tastier the humans that were fervent enough to remind him of his fiery former self.
And that, as they say, was that.
(Not even the LORD God knows that a mere human will be able to teach Claude Faustus how to Love again.)
The origin of love.
They don't know what else they can do. Standing in a loose circle, their heads bowed low, they mutter to each other that it's time to give up. The Two-Spirits have already left them, gone back to the Father to try to entertain Him in spite of what's happened.
"It's going to be reset," says Crocodile. He has a long face that is covered in scales, and his mouth opens and shuts rapidly when he talks. "That's what I heard-- He's going to reset everything."
Eagle fluffs up his feathers and begins to preen them, he's that anxious. "Who told you that?"
"Snake did," says Crocodile. "Snake said Father would start with us, the One-Spirits, for having failed Him."
"And he would know, since he is the closest Two-Spirit to Father," growls Bear.
"We're doomed!" Rabbit covers her eyes with big, grotesque paws and moans piteously. "The thing we were created to do, and we can't do it!"
Monkey glares at everyone. "If Father can't do it, what made Him believe we could?"
"Shut up, Monkey," is the general consensus.
"What have I got to lose by saying something?" asks Monkey, waving his hand dismissively. "If we're about to be reset regardless, then we can disobey all we want."
"It's the principle of the thing," snaps Eagle. "We ought to have faith in Him."
"That's gotten us nowhere, Eagle."
While a petty disagreement over faith starts up, Horse sighs and shifts her bleary, wobbling black eyes from her comrades to the loner at the back of the group. This recluse One-Spirit is very quiet and different compared to the rest of them, so they usually avoid or ignore him when they can. Horse decides to call out to him, "Spider, do you have any ideas?" on the off-chance they've missed something he hasn't.
Eagle notices and nips at Horse. "Don't talk to him," he says quietly. "Spider isn't like us."
Spider is a very large creation, having eight long legs instead of the formulaic zero or two or four. Forged from light and fire, he glows and gleams even when he isn't moving. He stares at the congregation with eight large, unblinking white eyes, but thus far he hasn't made himself known or tried to join any discussions.
"Indeed," says Spider. "I do have an idea."
Now everyone turns to look at Spider.
"You do?" asks Dog, surprised.
Crocodile has begun to cry, but his gaze is sharp and deadly. "Don't make fools of us, Spider."
"That is not my intention," says Spider, remaining still. "I was asked if I have any ideas, and I'm merely saying I do."
"We've tried everything," grumbles Rabbit.
The rest of the group agrees: "Nothing left!"
But Spider doesn't falter and says, "I have an idea."
Horse looks at Rabbit, who looks at Crocodile, who looks at Monkey, who stares at everyone in disbelief before acknowledging Eagle. Out of all of them, Eagle seems to be in charge.
"... Fine," says Eagle. "Let's have your idea."
"Very well."
With eerie speed for such a large creation, Spider skitters over to the group. They move aside so he can join them, and allow him to see what they were trying to deal with: a quivering hunk of profusely bleeding flesh. This is a human, Spider knows--one that has been recently, permanently separated from its other half. Spider understands this human is a man now, rather than a child of the sun.
The humans staged a revolt against Father, and in retaliation, He tore them apart. They were once two-spirited, but Father decided that they were too dangerous like that; had too much potential. Now every human has been cleaved in twain, one spirit for each piece. It might seem overbearing, but the One- and Two-Spirits value His judgment highly; the humans just don't know how to handle Him yet.
"What are you going to do?" asks Bear, warily.
"Where is the sun?" asks Spider, curiously.
Bear looks at Monkey, who looks at Fox, who has the sun sitting in one of her eye sockets. She reaches up and plucks it out--resting on her paw, the sun looks like a large, inflamed ruby. "Right here," she says, admiring it. "We've already tried this, of course. Father said it had infinite magical properties, but nothing we did with it worked."
"Not even rubbing it in the blood," says Crocodile, sniffling. "And the flesh refuses to cauterize."
Spider stretches out one long leg. "May I hold it?" he asks.
Fox hesitates a little before nodding and balancing the sun on the tip of Spider's leg.
Without warning, Spider eats the sun in one unfathomably greedy bite.
"Does your hunger know no bounds, Spider?" cries Fox.
"Oh for the sake of--" Eagle slaps a wing over his face. "I told you," he says viciously, turning on Horse. "I said as much, didn't I? Now Father is really going to be upset. The sun is one of his favorite creations, and we are supposed to protect it."
"Wait a moment," says Horse, who has noticed something new. "Don't jump to conclusions just yet."
Spider's light is dizzily dancing and flaring atop his gleaming skin. After a moment, he reaches beneath himself and begins to produce silk--and it is an awe-inspiring sort. This silk is made of pure light, pulled and spun into threads that shine as pure gold. When he has conjured an appropriate length of it, he cuts it free and reaches onto his back. His hairs are thin, hollow, and sharp at one end, which make them perfect needles. He plucks off one hair and threads it through with light-silk.
"We haven't done anything to address the aftermath," says Spider. He looks around at everyone, though it's hard to tell when his eyes don't move. "All the humans have to live for is their own despair, so that's all they know. Just repairing the damage isn't enough--we must show them a reason to stop obsessing over the past and what Father did. They should want to see the sun rise tomorrow, instead. They need to be given... hope."
Eagle guffaws, unimpressed. "They should be so lucky that He didn't do worse to them."
"Making them suffer only makes them angrier," Spider says, smiling patiently, "unless they believe it's for a good cause."
Spider crawls on top of the human, switching the needle from one leg to another, and then plunges the needle into the human's torn flesh. The human screams--everyone winces, even Eagle--while Spider begins to suture shut the oozing wound with threads of golden light-silk. They shine right up the back, criss-crossed like ribbons on a corset.
At first, the human can only scream and scream. Crocodile tries to cover his ears, but can't find them. Horse is about to tell Spider to stop it, since it doesn't seem to be helping--and then the human falls silent. Before their very eyes, the torn flesh repairs itself beneath the lattice of shining gold.
"Screams into silence," says Spider, tying the threads off. "There."
Fox gasps quietly. "It's... a miracle."
After the One-Spirits inform Father that they've found a cure, Father arbitrarily dubs the miraculous technique as Love. He orders Spider to perform it on every one of the humans to ease their suffering, post-haste. Love ends the screams and soothes much of the pain, and the humans themselves become preoccupied with the side effects of Love. Needless to say, Spider is seen as the most ingenious One-Spirit, and he goes on to teach Love to every creation new and old. In the whole heavenly host, Snake admires Love the most and Raven is the most suspicious of it.
"It feels warm," says Spider.
Raven frowns. "If you say so."
But the happiness in this story wasn't meant to last. Eventually, Spider was made to Fall thanks to another paranoid panic attack of Father's, long after Morning Star warred against Him with a third of the heavenly host. As punishment for defying conditioning, Spider was stripped of all his beautiful light, his ability to weave golden silk, and most importantly, his understanding of Love.
"Silver inside you," roared Father. An everlasting curse. "Like the rest of your brethren, Spider! Silver is all you're worth!"
However, the golden orb-weaver spider, which yields gold instead of silver, was created as a mocking reminder of this sinful day.
Hateful and embittered, Spider quickly adjusted to his new life as a daemon, surprising some of his fellow Fallen and making jealous others. When he was ready, he bedecked himself in precious gold and went in search of hottest passion to fill up the gaping hole inside his belly. As the originator of Love, he used it to hunt for and make tastier the humans that were fervent enough to remind him of his fiery former self.
And that, as they say, was that.
(Not even the LORD God knows that a mere human will be able to teach Claude Faustus how to Love again.)