sades' short stories

Rogue Deities

tags: commission, 2.5k words, adventure, contemporary, fantasy, mystery

☆☆A/N: This is part of the same universe as one of my other commissioned short stories, "Shepard Mysteries!" I hope you enjoy :3

☆ ∙ ◦ ★( Signe )★ ◦ ∙ ☆

The universe is black for an impossibly long time. Not a single star, or galaxy, or planet. I'm almost certain I'm dead. This is what death is. We were so convinced we knew what waited for us beyond life, but the great After, the Valhalla, the afterlife is wrong. It is only emptiness.

And in an instant, vibrant color snaps back into view. I drop to my knees, wheezing, my throat constricting. Or... not constricting. There's no hand around my neck. I seem to be somewhere on Gaeaheim, away from... him.

Gaeaheim won't like my presence here. Not again. I stagger to my feet and get a grasp on my surroundings. It seems to be some sort of beverage store. My reflection in the window tells me everything I need to know. I am still alive, and I will be in danger if I am spotted.

With the snap of my fingers, I change my appearance. My long, black hair turns red and curls at the bottom. My face morphs to a more feminine structure, and the rest of my body follows. Another snap, and my usual clothes are replaced with something more fitting for Gaeaheim this time of year: a sweater and jeans.

So ordinary, how plain they dress.

This could be a fresh start.

In the spirit of seeming like I belong, I step into the store and approach the bar. A younger man behind the counter smiles my way and retrieves a cup. "Good morning."

"Yes, good morning," I reply.

"Would you like to order a drink?"

"Ah, of course, a drink. What's the hardest drink you have?"

The person glances my way in confusion. "We, uh... we don't have any hard drinks. We sell coffee."

"Coffee."

"Yes."

"Right, coffee. My apologies. I'll take... one coffee."

"Umm... okay. What's your name?"

"My name?"

"Yeah, so we can put it on the cup."

"Oh, we don't need to do that."

"Actually, I'm really sorry, but I have to. It's policy."

"Silly me. Of course it's policy. My name is... Signe. That is my real name."

"Okay... I'll get you a coffee right away, Signe." They back away slowly, never turning away from me.

So much for acting naturally, I suppose. As if someone of my stature is supposed to fit in with these peasants.

The door to this coffee store opens again as a man comes in. He has particularly pleasant features for being a mere mortal—wavy brown hair that reaches his chin, which is sharp and stubbled, and blue eyes, like a tempest, yet soft.

Almost too pleasant. He glances around the entire place, eyes darting, scanning the crowd. Then they land on me. He sits next to me with a brief smile and waves down the man behind the counter.

"How can I help, sir?"

"Is it pumpkin spice season yet? I've been dying to try one of those things."

"Absolutely. What's your name?"