#finally getting my fics up on tumblr at the behest of a sweet anon who reminded me

[sillyfairygarden]

the first disciple

Summary:

Joel snorts. “I didn’t carry you out here to leave you to die, did I? You’re in no shape to go out there again, even if you are a stupid god.” He stands carefully, cursing at the noise his joints make. “So do me a favor: don’t die, mister Winter.” “It—It’s Etho,” the god says, feeling something settle in his chest that is not fear nor pain, not resignation nor the crushing cold of snow. “My name, it’s Etho.” Joel looks down at him, and now Etho can see the fire in his eyes, burning like a hearth instead of a man. “Alright then, Etho.” The knife catches the gold of the firepit, dancing with gold. “No dying, y’hear?”