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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month

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Writing Reference: Symbolism of Food

We need food to live, so it comes as no surprise that we have accorded many ingredients with "magical powers".

Indeed, some of the things we eat every day carry both constituent elements and meanings which go far beyond mere nutrition.

Below is a list of some foods, real and mythical, which have become symbols in themselves.

AMBROSIA

For the Greeks, ambrosia was the food of the Gods.

Given that it conferred immortality, the deities on Mount Olympus guarded it jealously.

As well as ensuring eternal life, ambrosia could be used as an ointment that could heal any wound.

However, for a mortal, eating ambrosia was a big mistake.

Example: The story of Tantalus. He was invited to eat with the Gods, and so, presuming that he was accepted as one of them, he ate ambrosia. In the tradition of all good dinner party guests, he decided to return the favor and invited the Gods round to his place. Deciding somewhat sycophantically that they should feast upon all the good things that they had given him, he served up the flesh of his own children, and was banished to Hades.

CHOCOLATE

Long before the Western discovery of the Americas, the natives of Brazil, Mexico, the West Indies, and South America used the seeds of the chocolate tree to make a stimulating drink. These bean-like seeds were cacahuatl, or cocoa.

Primarily symbolic of love, chocolate is a sensual food with aphrodisiac properties that are due, in part, to association.

However, its melting point is the same temperature as blood, a very satisfying sensation.

The botanical name of the plant gives a clue as to its sacred status. Theobroma cacao means “food of the Gods,” from the Greek “Theo,” meaning God and “Broma,” meaning food.

The beans were so highly valued that the Mayans used them as currency.

Possibly the world’s first chocoholic, their ruler Montezuma was completely addicted to the beans.

He drank them infused in cold water with no seasoning. He served this sacred drink in goblets of beaten gold, and at the coronation of Montezuma II in 1502 a concoction of chocolate and psilocybin mushrooms was served to the guests. This must have been a heady mixture.

Cortés cultivated the plant primarily because of its reputation as an aphrodisiac; this secret was divulged by one of the nineteen young women given to him by Montezuma as a tribute. Perhaps the 2000 chocolate trees that he consequently planted were testimony to the efficacy of the beans in keeping the ladies satisfied.

By 1550, chocolate factories were operating in Lisbon, Genoa, Marseilles, and other European cities. The recipes became more and more refined.

Catherine de Medici slowed down the progress of chocolate for a while because it was so good that she wanted it all to herself.

However, although the Church tried to ban many of the foodstuffs that had been discovered in the New World, especially those that were considered as stimulants, their advice was largely ignored and it is possible that this disapproval increased the popularity of this illicit substance.

Neither Catherine nor all the forces of the Church could stop the world becoming chocolate coated.

Today, the form of chocolate has changed so much that Montezuma would probably find it unrecognizable, both in taste and form. However, it is still unrivalled as a token and symbol of love.

HONEY

Legislation decrees that all packaged food carry a “best before” date, but this seems to be particularly unnecessary in the case of honey, since jars of the stuff found in the tombs of Egyptian kings of several thousand years ago has proved to be perfectly edible even now.

It could well be because honey is so long lasting, and because it is used as a preservative, that it is a symbol of immortality and is used in funerary rites.

The bees that make the honey have their place in the realms of magical creatures accorded with supernatural powers, but more of that in the Fauna section.

The Promised Land is said to “flow with milk and honey” as being the very best that the Gods can offer.

The sweetness of honey is believed to confer gifts of learning and poetry.

We’ll never know if the story that Pythagoras existed on honey alone is true, but the fact that the rumor exists is in accord with his God-like status.

As well as being edible and fermentable, honey has healing and antiseptic qualities, and a dollop of honey smeared onto a wound will soon draw out any impurities and speed the healing process.

Honey is said to be an aphrodisiac and to encourage fertility and virility, wealth and abundance, and is a symbol of the Sun, partly because of the flowers from which it is made but also because of its color.

MEAD

Like honey, mead also carries the gift of immortality.

The Celts believed it was the favored drink of the Gods in the Otherworld.

It is a sacred drink in Africa, too, where it is believed that drinking the stuff will make you more knowledgeable.

It is very simple to make—it’s simply honey mixed with water and allowed to ferment—and this process of fermentation is akin to a magical process in itself, which is akin to transmutation in alchemy.

MILK

Given that milk is the first food, it’s not surprising that it is associated with many stories of the Creation, and is a symbol of divinity.

Amrita, or soma, the absolute nectar of life for Hindus and the equivalent of ambrosia, was created as a cosmic sea of milk was churned.

The curds that were created by this epic stirring formed the Earth, the Universe, and the stars.

Along with honey, there is an abundance of milk in the Promised Land, and Indian myths tell of a magical milk tree in Heaven.

Because of its color and its association with the feminine, milk is a symbol of the Moon.

The main food source for milk for us human beings (once we’re weaned) is the cow.

The cow is sacred in India because during times of famine it made far more sense to keep the animal alive for its milk rather than slaughter and eat it purely for its meat, so all parts of the cow are accorded sacred status and are ruled over by one or other of the Gods or Goddesses.

In the hidden symbolic language of alchemy, the Philosopher’s Stone is sometimes called the Virgin’s Milk.

NECTAR

Nectar is often referred to as ambrosia, but has secrets of its own to tell.

Flowers create it, and its scent attracts the bees, which then transform the nectar into honey.

Seemingly insignificant, nectar is nevertheless a very magical ingredient, created from flowers, sunshine, and bees working together in a collective consciousness known as the “hive mind” in an environment which itself is constructed from one of the key shapes in sacred geometry, the hexagon.

SOMA

Like the Greek Olympians, the Indian deities had a type of food, like ambrosia, that ensured their immortality.

This was soma, or amrita. Whereas dire consequences befell any mortal that dared to partake of ambrosia, the Indian Gods were more generous with their soma, and any mortal that ate it was immediately given immortality and access to Heaven.

The ancient Indian Vedic scriptures, the Ramayana, tell the story of Rama, an epic hero, the perfect man:

Rama was born after his father was visited by an angel.

This angel brought with him some magical food.

Eating this soma meant that Rama’s father was able to sire offspring that were the human incarnations of the God, Vishnu.

WINE

The symbolic meanings of wine are generally attached to the red variety; it seems that a nice dry white or a sweet rosé carries no hidden mystery.

The red color means that wine is often linked to blood, particularly since the wine is the “blood” of the grape.

Because it looks like blood, wine is often used in rituals where blood would otherwise be called for, and because ceremonial wine is often drunk from a shared chalice, it is seen, like bread, as a unifying principle.

Wine is male, and bread is female.

As a partner to bread in the ritual of the Eucharist, the consecrated wine is transformed into the blood of the Christ, a reminder of both sacrifice and immortal life, and it’s this transformative power that accords wine with much of its mystique.

When the water is turned into wine in the story of the Marriage at Cana, what is really being shown here is the transformation of the mundane into the magical, the Earthly into the Heavenly.

It is this magical process of fermentation at work that explains why wine is associated with Bacchus/Dionysus, and the intoxicating power of wine is symbolic of divine possession.

The phrase, “In vino veritas” links wine to the truth and is a reminder that those intoxicated by perhaps a little too much of that nice claret will be more likely to speak the truth than most, which can be good or bad, depending on the circumstances.

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rainforestakiie · 25 days

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hello! here is my new omega au! i do hope you like it! it is loosely based on aztec and mayan mythology, with other mythology added in to make an interesting story, i hope.

this was originally inspired by @lilacwriter07's ask where they wanted some more omega adamsapple, and they allowed me to be more creative! do not worry, lilacwriter07, your ask will be in this au! i have it already written out; i just want to get the 'back story' out first! expect part 02 in a day or so, then your ask!

ahhh! i really can't wait for everyone to read this and let me know what you think!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

From a tender age, Adam knew he was unlike anyone else. His parents were breathtaking, with sculpted bodies and elegant frames. After their ash-fall, they had become even more radiant, effortlessly attracting admirers. Their skin was bronzed by the sun, their hair rich and thick like a lion's mane, and their eyes, large and glistening, held an otherworldly allure. They embodied beauty and fully embraced their heritage.

But Adam was different.

On the morning of his tenth birthday, Adam awoke with a peculiar excitement. A strange, burning sensation churned deep within his gut, coiling up into his chest. Lying beneath the lush red-and-green feathered blankets his grandmother had lovingly woven, his lips curled into a broad grin. Eagerly, he kicked the blankets aside, rolled off the bed's edge, and raced to the mirror. Practically bouncing on his pear-shaped feet, he twirled before the mirror, eyes wide with anticipation, searching for any telltale wisps of smoke rising from his skin—the first sign of the ash-fall. But there was nothing.

Adam's reflection stared back at him, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. Leaning closer to the glass, he tugged lightly at the soft padding of his cheek.

"I've gone grey," he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Straightening his young body, Adam twisted and turned, desperately trying to glimpse his form from every angle. There was no steam, no smoke, no ethereal transformation seeping through his flesh. No glittering specks of lava freckles adorned his skin—another sign of the ash-fall. Instead, he looked... burnt out.

"Why?" he muttered, a deep frown etching across his face as he took a step back. His shoulders sagged, arms falling limply at his sides. "Why am I...?"

The morning was spent in a frantic attempt to disguise his appearance. He wasn't meant to look like a fire that had sputtered out before ever truly igniting. Adam bundled himself in thick, oversized sweaters, a medical mask, and a woolly hat, gloves, and scarf to match. When his mother saw him, she laughed, trying to peel away the layers, but Adam resisted until his father intervened, scolding him. Apparently, it was dangerous to be wrapped up so tightly.

He would never forget the look on their faces when they finally saw him. The horror, the tears, the screams—they had cut him deeply. Before his tenth birthday, his parents had been loving and attentive, their days filled with family outings and warmth. But everything changed after that fateful day.

Adam became the family's failure—the one who couldn’t burn like his cousins. Even Elly, his younger cousin, had her ash-fall the following month. His mother had broken down in tears that day too. No matter what Adam did, it never seemed to bring a smile to his mother’s face or draw his father's gaze.

Was he truly such a disappointment?

By the time he turned eleven, when no one even bothered to acknowledge him, Adam had begun to wander away from the family fire. He ventured through the oversized, thick branches and towering trunks of the forest he called home—Eden, the forest of flames, nestled at the leftmost point of Pentagram City. All his life, Adam had been repeatedly warned never to leave Eden.

The world beyond was far too dangerous for someone as fragile as him; his flame would be easily extinguished, or worse, stronger and more terrifying creatures would snatch him away. His mother had always assured him that once he experienced his ash-fall, he would be free to explore the city like everyone else... but that day never came. He was weaker than anyone imagined, more delicate than they had feared, and now, no one would care if he disappeared. No one noticed as the little, scrawny ash boy slipped away from the gathering of families and neighbouring clans.

Sniffling, Adam inched forward, his flat, grey feet sliding over the warm, red bark of the thick branches. He moved cautiously, with the delicate care of someone who knew that a single misstep could be his last. He had no fiery wings to catch him if he fell. A broken bone would mean certain death, for no one would come to save him—he’d be left to perish alone.

Adam had heard stories of Pentagram City and the beings that lived within it. Pressing himself against the trunk of a flame tree, he peered into the quaint countryside just beyond Eden. Scattered across the landscape were large red rocks that gradually gave way to the more structured outlines of a city. Squinting, Adam spotted a towering temple at the city's heart. It appeared to be made of stone, but from this distance, he couldn’t be sure.

He could see little else from his vantage point. Adam knew that Pentagram City had five points, with Eden being one of them. The other four points housed powerful clans of other beings, and the closer they lived to the temple, the more numerous and lesser the creatures became.

According to what little he had heard, a god resided in that temple, but Adam knew nothing about the deity or its role in Pentagram City. Did this god rule the city? His curiosity gnawed at him as he continued to stare at the distant structure, hoping for a glimpse of something—anything—divine. But there was nothing.

Sighing deeply, Adam let his head fall against the tree, his eyes drooping with a deep, sorrowful frown. He knew he should return; if he stayed away too long, he’d be forgotten, and no food would be saved for an ugly bird like him. His lips trembled as the thought crossed his mind, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. A sob escaped his lips...but something cut through his cry.

Adam blinked in surprise, straightening as he rubbed his grey lips together. He glanced around, his heart racing. He could suddenly hear a strange sound.

Adam pursed his flat lips, tilting his head as he strained to catch the sound again. It was like singing—a soft, whistle-like tune, reminiscent of the birds that flitted among the branches of Eden. His wide eyes darted around the trees, scanning the fiery foliage for any sign of who—or what—was making that eerie melody. But the sound wasn’t coming from above, where the branches intertwined like a tangled web of flames. It was coming from below.

With cautious, tentative steps, Adam edged closer to the red branch's edge and peered down at the golden, knee-length grass that blanketed the ground far below. The grass shimmered under the harsh glare of the white sun, each blade sparkling like a thread of liquid gold in the light. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Would anyone notice—or even care—if he dared to climb down? They had always drummed it into him: never set foot on the ground until your wings had formed or at least until a few feathers had sprouted from your arms.

But then again, nobody would care. He was the disappointment, the one who would never fly.

Determined, Adam inched forward, but everything happened so fast. His vision blurred as his foot slipped, sending him tumbling down the bark of the giant tree. The flame trees were far from smooth; their surface was gnarled and blistering, scorching his skin as he skidded downward. His body scraped against the rough bark, his descent a painful blur, until he hit the ground with a sickening crack. His feet throbbed with pain, and he shakily inspected them—a bitter reminder that they were still soft and delicate, not the sharp talons his family bore with pride. His uncle's sneering words echoed in his mind: pathetic.

A gasp escaped Adam, his body aching all over, his arms limp and unresponsive. It took everything in him just to sit up, and when he did, tears flooded his eyes. His uncle’s jarring, smug voice rang in his ears, scolding him for being so foolish. No one would care—they would only find sick amusement in his accident.

A soft, strangled sob slipped from his lips, slow and tentative at first. His face crinkled, scrunching up as the overwhelming wave of sadness crashed down, twisting painfully in his chest until it finally burst forth. Adam let out another gasp, his sobs growing more desperate, his tears falling in a relentless stream over his ash-grey cheeks. He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and buried his face, sobbing into the crook of his arms.

Everything poured out of him—the disappointment of not burning from the inside like all the others before him, the sense of failure that gnawed at him every day. The way his mother looked at him now, with a hollow sadness that tore at his heart, and the way his father couldn’t even bear to glance in his direction. His cousins, aunts, and uncles, their cutting comments and cold stares. The way the elders had dismissed him, deeming him unworthy to be paired with another in the clan. Typically, the year after an ash-fall, the elders would pair them up, but Adam had been brushed aside, not even a consideration.

The more he cried, the harder it became to stop. He felt as though he might choke on his tears, as though the sadness would consume him entirely. Eden was quiet, the ever-burning inner flames of the trees casting a warm, flickering light around him, but it felt so distant, so cold.

“Why are you crying?” a sudden voice asked, cutting through the haze of his despair.

Adam’s breath hitched. He squirmed, peering up through tear-filled eyes at the figure standing over him, staring down with glassy red-and-gold eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out—only more tears.

The figure appeared to be young, about his age, perhaps eleven. They were shorter than Adam, which was surprising given that he was often teased for being small. The stranger let out a quiet sigh and carefully sat down beside him, not so close that their elbows would brush, but not so far that Adam felt completely alone.

Adam continued to cry, his sobs echoing softly in the golden grass. The stranger stayed with him, silent and still, their gaze fixed on the swaying blades that shimmered in the gentle breeze. After what felt like an eternity, the figure finally tilted their head toward Adam, extending a hand that hovered hesitantly above his trembling shoulders before finally resting there. They began to rub his back in small, slow circles.

“There, there,” they murmured, their voice flat, almost emotionless. “There, there, don’t cry.”

Adam continued to sob, his tears soaking into the earth as he curled into himself, trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. The small hand resting on his back was oddly warm, a gentle contrast to the cold world around him. The warmth was even more surprising considering Adam’s lineage, his bloodline intertwined with the very essence of fire.

When his sobs didn’t subside, the mysterious figure beside him made a low, soothing sound deep in their throat. They shifted closer to Adam, their stiff hand continuing its rhythmic motion along his back. With a soft, deliberate motion, they straightened and tilted their head skyward, cherry-red lips parting ever so slightly. A familiar melody, one that Adam had heard before, slipped from their lips, echoing through the quiet streets of Eden, the flickering heart of Pentagram City. The stranger’s voice was enchanting, a gentle hum that filled the air with a comforting warmth, even in the darkest corners of the city.

Adam blinked through his tears, rubbing his hands over his tear-streaked face. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze wandering wearily around before settling on the figure beside him. He sniffled, trying to blink away the lingering sadness, as he watched the stranger sing softly, their voice wrapping around him like a tender embrace. For the first time, Adam felt a comfort so deep, it was as if the very air around him had transformed into a protective cocoon, holding him in a way he had never known.

The person beside him was unlike anyone Adam had ever seen in Eden. They seemed to belong to a different world entirely. Their skin was a pale, milky white, with a delicate flush of red framing their cheeks. Golden, fluffy curls crowned their head, with two tufts of hair playfully resembling horns. Their lips, full and stained a deep cherry red, contrasted strikingly with their mismatched eyes—one a gleaming gold, the other a deep crimson. Adam’s gaze drifted down their form, noticing the black and green claws adorned with rings of lush crimson feathers at their wrists. As he looked further, he saw green and red feathers peeking out before spilling around their hips, forming a long, soft-looking tail in place of feet. Scales of blue, red and white blended well into the tail.

“Do you feel better?” the stranger, now clearly a boy, asked, his voice soft and melodic.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes catching Adam’s. A mesmerizing array of green, blue, and purple scales shimmered across his neck, trailing up to his pointed ears, making him appear even more otherworldly and enchanting.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering in a way it never had before. He had never laid eyes on a creature so mesmerizing, so otherworldly. The boy was beautiful, ethereal in a way that made Adam’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. He quickly rubbed his face with both hands, trying to hide the flush that spread across his skin, and managed a weak, shaky smile.

“Yeah, um, who... what...” Adam’s voice faltered, his words stumbling as his mind raced to catch up. His brows knitted together in confusion. “I mean, what are you?”

The boy snorted softly, his long, colourful tail flicking to the side with a playful grace. His lips curved into a deeper frown, and for a fleeting moment, Adam glimpsed two sharp fangs peeking out from behind those cherry-red lips. “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? Asking someone’s breed like that.”

“Oh!” Adam squeaked in horror, his eyes widening with panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But before Adam could finish his apology, a ghost of a smile twisted across the boy’s lips, and a low, rumbling laugh escaped him.

“I know. You’re just a baby,” he said, his tone gentle, almost teasing, as if Adam’s innocent curiosity amused him.

Adam blinked furiously, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words. The boy beside him tilted his head slightly, a sly smile playing on his lips as his gold and red eyes flickered across Adam’s face.

“I can tell you’ve never left your home before,” he mused, his voice smooth and knowing. “You’ve never seen anyone outside your clan, let alone someone like me. If you knew who you were talking to, you’d probably be beside yourself.”

“Huh?” Adam pouted, his confusion deepening. “Are you someone important, then?”

“Something like that,” the boy replied, rolling one glittering, scaled shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. Adam’s eyes immediately zoned in on the vibrant scales and feathers, captivated by their brilliance.

“Why were you crying?” the boy asked, his tone softening slightly.

Adam lowered his head, leaning back against the crimson bark of the tree behind him. “Because I’m a failure,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The boy hummed thoughtfully; his head cocked to the side as if genuinely puzzled by Adam’s admission. His gold and ruby eyes half-lidded, slowly roving up and down Adam’s plain form. He clicked his tongue, revealing a long, serpent-like tongue that flickered between his lips. “Because you haven’t burned away like the others in your clan?” he asked, his tone curious rather than judgmental.

“You know about my family?” Adam asked, his curiosity piqued. How could this boy, who appeared younger than himself, know about his clan? Adam shook his head, his voice trembling as he continued, “I didn’t... I was supposed to transform last year, but I didn’t. I look... like this.”

Adam glared down at his powdery grey arms, turning them over with a disdainful frown. He loathed the sight of them, so dull and lifeless compared to the vibrant flames his kind was known for. Even the green in his eyes had faded to a milky white, making him feel like a shadow of what he was supposed to be. He understood why everyone made fun of him—he was ugly, unremarkable, and utterly forgettable.

“Nobody will ever want to mate with me,” he added, his voice thick with pain. His eyes began to water again as he spoke. “I’m ignored, pushed aside. Nobody wants to be my friend. My Ma and Pa can’t even look at me. I’m going to die alone. It won’t matter if I present as an Omega in the coming years. I’m undesirable. I didn’t burn. I didn’t turn to ash, and I certainly wasn’t reborn. I’m just... a fire that smothered itself before it could even burn.”

The boy was silent for a long moment, his blank gaze fixed on Adam. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft hiss. “You will be an Omega?”

“Probably,” Adam replied, his tone hollow. “But it won’t matter to my elders. They haven’t even bothered to find me a match. I was supposed to have one this year so I could bond with them.”

Adam’s hands trembled as he spoke, his breath hitching painfully. His nose flared, and his lips quivered as the weight of his loneliness pressed down on him. Just as the first tear slipped down his grey cheek, the boy’s long, snake-like tongue darted out, licking it away. Adam jerked in surprise, his eyes widening as he looked at the beautiful boy beside him.

The boy’s black and green scaled claws gently wrapped around Adam’s hands, pulling them close to his face. He examined them intently, rubbing his claws along Adam’s fingers, pinching and turning them over as if searching for something hidden. His clawed hands then moved up Adam’s arms, seeming to probe for something unknown to Adam.

The boy’s golden and ruby eyes met Adam’s as his claws trailed over Adam’s shoulders and pressed down gently on his chest. A spark ignited in his eyes as he felt the steady beat of Adam’s heart beneath his touch.

“Just because you didn’t go through the ashfall doesn’t mean you are undesirable,” the boy said sternly, yet with a tender undercurrent to his words. “I don’t find you unpleasant to look at. In fact, I find you... interesting.”

“You do?” Adam whispered shyly, a shiver running up his spine at the boy’s words.

The boy nodded sharply, slithering closer. His beautiful tail flexed as he raised himself slightly above Adam, his face drawing nearer. “As for dying alone, I don’t believe that will happen.”

“How would you know? Nobody in my clan would want to bond with me,” Adam said shakily, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

“I never mentioned your clan,” the boy replied darkly, his eyes growing hooded and glassy. His long, serpentine tongue slithered through his lips once more, licking firmly down Adam’s cheek. “From this moment on, I will be your mate.”

Adam couldn’t speak, his mind practically short-circuiting. His skin prickled with sensation as his head tilted back, the boy beginning to rub his cheek against Adam’s in a possessive gesture, scenting him fully. Adam’s heart skipped a beat as he imagined returning to the nest with the boy’s scent on him. What would his family say? What would everyone think? But those thoughts melted away as the boy’s sweet, intoxicating scent filled Adam’s senses, wrapping around him like a warm blanket and making him relax.

“I think you’re a beautiful Phoenix, whether you have burned or not,” the boy purred softly, nuzzling into the crook of Adam’s neck.

“I’m Adam!” the unburned Phoenix blurted out, the words slipping past his lips before he could think. “What’s your name?”

The boy chuckled, pulling back to look Adam in the eye. For the first time, Adam saw a true smile on his lips, his mismatched eyes growing tender with emotion.

“Don’t forget your mate’s name. My name is—”

Then, as if caught in a dream, the gorgeous boy’s voice began to fade, dissolving into a soft, melodic hum that barely reached Adam's ears. The words, the name, everything slipped away like sand through his fingers. Adam remained seated there, at the very edge of Eden, as the world around him blurred, the sharp edges of reality growing hazy and distant. He blinked once, then twice, his gaze drifting in bewilderment as confusion clouded his mind. A deep groan escaped him, and he pressed a trembling hand to his temple, trying to make sense of what was happening.

But in the next breath, everything shifted. The vibrant colours and strange warmth of the encounter melted away, and Adam found himself waking up in his bed, nestled within one of the intersection buildings of Pentagram City. The familiar surroundings of his room greeted him, though the memory of the boy and that strange, fleeting connection lingered like a fading whisper in the corners of his mind.

The blaring shriek of his alarm clock sliced through Adam's skull like a jagged knife, but he didn't rush to silence it. Instead, he lingered in the moment, his pale, almost ghostly eyes fixed on the worn and cracked ceiling above him. Time seemed to stretch as he allowed his body to awaken slowly, letting the dull hum of the city seep into his consciousness. The buzz of distant traffic and the occasional honk gradually filtered through his fogged senses. Finally, with a languid roll, he turned to his side and slammed his hand down on the alarm clock, the sharp sound abruptly cut off. A low groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. His tousled brown hair stuck out in wild directions, and a sheen of sweat clung to his clammy skin. He was naked, tangled in a cocoon of blankets, quilts, pillows, and sheets—the softest of his belongings—some of which even included his old hoodies and sweaters, adding to the haphazard nest of comfort surrounding him.

Adam groaned again, raising his arms above his head as he stretched, his spine crackling with the motion. He dragged a weary hand across his face, releasing a heavy sigh just as the brief silence was shattered by the blaring music from above. The familiar sound brought with it the knowledge that his neighbours were at it again—lovers wrapped in their passionate dance, the Omega upstairs a notorious screamer, their cries cutting through the walls even with the music attempting to drown them out.

Grunting in irritation, Adam swung himself out of bed and trudged towards his ancient chest of drawers, their surface as battered and worn as everything else in his room. He kicked aside a few pillows and sheets that cluttered his path and yanked open the top drawer. Inside, a pink and white box sat waiting. He pulled out a slender stick from within and slipped it into his mouth, holding it beneath his tongue. He knew it would take ten minutes to work, though he could have shortened the time by using his Omega-Hood privileges, but Adam wasn’t about to take the easy way out.

His tired eyes, heavy with a burden that seemed older than his years, found his reflection in the cracked mirror propped on top of the drawers. The fissure ran down the left side, spider-webbing across the surface, distorting his already grim visage. Adam stared at himself, a grunt rumbling in his chest. Nothing had changed in the passing years; his skin remained ashen, his eyes still a lifeless grey, and his hair, brittle and dull, like leaves about to crumble in the wind. Beauty had eluded him, like the sun had missed him entirely while showering its warmth on the newborn Phoenix eggs.

His gaze drifted to the old, tattered calendar taped back together and hanging limply on the wall. His eyes were immediately drawn to the red mark on today's date, a small but significant reminder.

"Officially, I'm twenty," he murmured, pulling the stick from his mouth and holding it up to the dim light filtering through his dirty window. The glass was so filthy that even if it were the brightest, sunniest day, the view outside would still seem drab and lifeless.

The stick revealed four little green lines, and Adam let out a sigh of relief. "Perfect. My heat's over."

He tossed the stick into the trash bin with a flick of his wrist and turned his attention back to the remnants of his nest. He had already begun dismantling it, pillows and sheets scattered carelessly from his restless sleep. It looked forlorn and abandoned now, a poor excuse for what a Phoenix nest was supposed to be. His mother, may her soul rest in peace, would surely be turning in her grave at the sight of it. Adam couldn't help but feel the weight of her disapproval, even from beyond.

Ruffling his sweat-dampened hair, Adam felt the burn in his arms and legs as he began the tedious task of cleaning up after his heat. Each movement was a reminder of the exhaustion that still clung to his bones, but he pressed on, gathering up the nest he had meticulously built. Quilts, blankets, and pillows—all the soft, comforting things he had surrounded himself with—were tossed into the laundry basket, destined for a much-needed wash later today. The bed was next, stripped of its sheets with a practiced efficiency. He unclipped the Omega mattress protector, scrunching it into a ball before shoving it into a trash bag, another item to discard when he had the strength to face the world outside his small flat.

The air was thick with the remnants of his heat, a musky scent that clung stubbornly to the walls and furniture. Adam grabbed the air freshener, spraying it liberally around the cramped space, as if trying to erase every trace of the past week. He threw open the small, barely functional windows, letting the stale air escape, carried away by the weak breeze that drifted in from the city.

By the time he was done, the clock was inching towards noon, and the mated pair upstairs were still lost in their passionate tangle. The Omega’s moans and whimpers echoed through the thin ceiling, a constant reminder of what Adam had yet to experience. He found the Omega undeniably cute, with a charm that tugged at something deep inside him, but no matter how attractive he found them, the endless stream of exotic cries grated on his nerves. It was hard to ignore, and harder still to find any solace in it.

Eager to wash away the remnants of his heat, Adam stepped into his tiny, run-down shower. The water, predictably cold, cascaded over his body, but he didn’t mind. The chill was invigorating, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had consumed him for days. He scrubbed his skin, rough and thorough, determined to rid himself of the sweat and Omega fluids that clung to him like an unwanted second skin. He twisted and arched his back, trying to work out the knots that had formed during his restless sleep. The cheap soap and shampoo did little to soothe his senses, but it was enough to make him feel somewhat human again.

Stepping out, Adam shivered as the cold air hit his damp skin, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Even as an unburned Phoenix, the flame within his chest would soon chase away the chill, warming him from the inside out. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror again, and a grimace tugged at his lips. He looked like a drowned rat, his hair plastered to his face in wet, lifeless strands, the same dull, powdery grey that never seemed to change.

But as always, after his heat, his hands drifted to his chest, pressing against the spot where his Phoenix flame resided. A shudder rippled through him, his entire body prickling with the memory of a boy who had once promised to mate him. The boy had touched him there, right over the flame, as if to reassure himself that it was still burning inside Adam, still waiting for the day it would ignite into something more.

A sigh escaped Adam's lips, the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and unfulfilled promises.

The boy had vowed to mate with Adam when they both came of age, promising that Adam would never have to 'die alone' as he had always feared. Adam had been utterly captivated, lost in the daze of the boy’s pheromones that clung to him like a second skin for a full six months before they finally faded away. When Adam returned home that evening, his clan had been mildly surprised by the unusual scent lingering on him, but when the boy failed to make another appearance, they dismissed it as a fleeting act of pity. A moment of kindness from someone who, perhaps, simply felt sorry for him.

It was a thought that haunted Adam daily. Had the boy truly only felt sorry for him? The exchange of scents, though powerful, was harmless before the age of eighteen, a promise that only became permanent with the passage into adulthood. But the boy had never returned, not even when Adam crossed that crucial threshold into his eighteenth year. Eventually, the hope that had once flickered so brightly inside him dimmed until it was nothing more than a dying ember. It had been a lovely dream, a beautiful fantasy.

But Adam would never forget the boy. He had been mesmerizing, almost otherworldly. Adam had always believed the boy to be a young Naga, certain of it because of the serpentine tongue, the sharp fangs, and the tail that marked his kind. But after leaving Eden on his eighteenth birthday—driven by a desperate need to escape the suffocating presence of his family—Adam had encountered countless Nagas. Some were nearly as beautiful as the boy, but they all shared the same dark, muted colours: deep emeralds, midnight blues, and such dark reds that they bordered on black. Not one of them had the vibrant, luminous hues that the boy possessed. Nor did they bear a single feather.

This discrepancy troubled Adam deeply. He had scoured the ancient tomes in Pentagram City’s library, searching through histories and bestiaries, trying to identify what breed the boy might have been, but the answer remained elusive. The few times he had been brave enough to describe the boy to someone else, they had looked at him as though he had lost his mind. The disbelief in their eyes stung, and eventually, Adam stopped speaking about the mystery boy altogether. He forced himself to write it off as a fleeting encounter with a kind stranger who had noticed a child’s tears and acted on a momentary impulse.

Even so, the memory lingered, like a thorn embedded too deep to remove without drawing blood. The boy’s ethereal beauty, his enchanting presence, where things Adam could never fully let go of, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was all just a dream.

Shaking off the lingering thoughts, Adam hurried out of his cramped bathroom and began dressing in clean clothes. He glanced at the overflowing laundry basket and groaned deeply. He hated this part—washing everything after his heat was not only a tedious chore but also an expensive one. It would cost him nearly fifty marrows, almost half of his paycheck, a price that weighed heavily on him. But he had no choice. He needed those fabrics, especially with summer approaching. If he went back into heat without them, it would be disastrous.

Dressed in an oversized green and red sweater that reminded him of the mystery boy’s feathers, and a pair of worn leggings, Adam grabbed the laundry basket with a firm grip and left his flat. He walked briskly, hoping to avoid running into the persistent Minotaur Alpha who prowled the apartment building. The Alpha had pursued Adam relentlessly, ignoring every rejection. His advances were aggressive, his intentions clear, but Adam knew better than to fall for the ploys of someone who only saw him as a conquest.

As an untouched Omega, Adam naturally emitted a scent that drew potential mates, especially other Omegas. Unfortunately, it mostly attracted the wrong kind—lowlifes who didn’t care about his failed Phoenix status. Respectful Alphas, Omegas, or even Betas wouldn’t approach someone like him. They knew better.

Relief washed over him as he entered the building’s laundry room and found it blessedly empty. Not even another Omega was using the machines. Perfect. This meant he could finish quickly and get back to the safety of his flat. He chose the washing machine in the farthest corner, placing his basket on top of the worn, cream-pink dispenser box, and then turned to survey the Omega laundry products.

There were countless options, each one more expensive than the last. Omegas required their fabrics to be soft, cuddly, and soothing to their sensitive skin, but this necessity came at a painful cost. Times like these made Adam wish he had presented as a regular Beta instead. As he scanned the shelves, his lips twisted into a frustrated pout. He clicked a few buttons on the dispenser, scrolling through strips of powders, washing cubes, and other options until he finally reached the heat detergent.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the updated price, disbelief flooding his system.

"They raised the price again?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. His fingers twitched as he pulled out his battered wallet, prying it open to count his meagre supply of marrows. "I can afford it... but it's going to make things tight until my next pay check..."

With a resigned sigh, Adam slipped the necessary marrows into the slot. The price was almost three-quarters of his pay, leaving him with barely enough to survive. He would have to go without food for a few days, but this was a non-negotiable expense. If he didn't wash his things, he wouldn't be able to face another heat, let alone the encroaching winter.

Reluctantly, Adam fed the shards of bone marrow into the machine and began the laborious task of washing the fabrics that had formed his nest. It took a few hours, each minute dragging by as he waited for the cycle to complete. Once finished, he practically ran back to his flat, the weight of his cleaned belongings both a comfort and a reminder of the price he had paid.

~#~

The air in Pentagram City hung dry and brittle, a result of the relentless drought that preceded the looming summer. Unlike the rest of the world, their seasons defied reason—twelve months without a drop of rain, only to be drenched by a year's worth of torrential downpours over two relentless months. Beneath the city's surface, a labyrinth of ancient tunnels crisscrossed, designed to collect and distribute this precious deluge throughout the city. Or so they claimed. But the truth behind Pentagram City's water supply held darker secrets.

Adam’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the temple at the city’s heart, a monolithic structure that dominated the landscape, casting a permanent shadow over the five points of the city. It was an ominous sentinel, its presence forbidding and absolute. No one dared approach the temple. The stones that formed its foundation were hallowed, forbidden to be tread upon by any living soul. The city’s construction ended abruptly in the temple’s vicinity, leaving a barren expanse marked by ancient altars and crumbling pillars—sacrificial grounds that held the weight of centuries-old rituals.

Adam swallowed hard as he stood at the very edge of the city’s bounds, staring into the desolate expanse of the sacrificial lands. Though he had never witnessed a sacrifice, the grim tales and ironclad rules had been seared into his consciousness, an unshakeable knowledge that permeated every citizen's bone and blood. The time for a sacrificial offering was fast approaching, an event anticipated by every inhabitant of the city with a mix of dread and resignation. No one knew who would be chosen, but the offering was essential, a grim necessity to appease the ruler—the unseen protector of Pentagram City. A pact had been forged between the temple and the city’s founders centuries ago, a contract written in blood and shadow.

Adam bit his bottom lip, turning away from the looming temple. His gaze shifted to the stone statues that lined the boundary walls, their presence a silent warning to all who might dare to trespass into the sacrificial lands. The statues varied in form—some were massive, hulking figures with jagged edges, while others were small, smooth, and eerily delicate. The memory of the first time he had seen them remained vivid; a moment of sheer terror etched permanently into his mind.

The first time Adam had laid eyes on the God that watched over Pentagram City—the ancient protector who demanded sacrificial blood in exchange for life-giving water—he had nearly fainted. The memory of that moment still haunted him, a visceral experience that defied explanation. When he saw the statue, it was as though the earth had trembled beneath him, his vision blurring as a wave of fear and awe coursed through him.

And yet, as always, Adam found himself drawn to the carved effigy, like a moth helplessly circling a flame. A dull ache burned in his chest, and an elusive pressure gnawed at the edges of his mind, just beyond his grasp. The God of Pentagram City was a force unlike any other, a being so powerful that the temple had sprung into existence by mere thought alone. Crafted from massive stones of gold, ruby, and black, the temple was adorned with seven hidden emeralds beneath its foundation and seven more atop its spires. Legend held that the stones beneath connected to the world beneath the sea, where creation itself was born and where it would inevitably end. The stones above were said to channel the light of the heavens. Their God, a serpent-like entity, could move effortlessly between these realms, bringing with it waves of unnatural energy that pulsed through the city.

The God’s form was a blend of the serpentine and the divine—a colossal snake with wings lining its back, a face somewhere between a dragon’s and a bird’s. Feathers carved from stone trailed down its head, looping up its immense wings and down its tail, which ended in twin rattles. The underbelly was a shield of impenetrable scales. Though countless paintings and toys depicted the God’s likeness, none truly captured its terrifying presence. It had been over ten thousand years since the last blood sacrifice, but the signs were clear. The city was drier than ever, and the skies refused to yield rain. The God’s return was imminent, and with it, the cycle of sacrifices would begin anew. Only when the quota was met would the serpent God spread its wings and allow the rains to fall again, ensuring Pentagram City’s protection for another era.

Adam raised a hand, tentatively reaching toward one of the six feathered wings carved into the stone. This was why people thought he was mad. The mysterious boy who had once vowed to mate with him had a striking resemblance to their God—a likeness that seemed impossible. The God was not a mere boy, and it certainly had six wings. Adam’s mother had been furious when he refused to admit he had invented the boy, but he hadn’t! The boy was real. But Adam’s stubborn belief had only brought shame upon his family, leading his mother to commit an unforgivable act.

“What are you doing?” a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

Adam recoiled, his hand snapping back as if stung by the very air. His cheeks burned with a deep, humiliating flush, his fingers twisting together in a desperate attempt to contain his nerves. He forced a wide, exaggerated grin onto his face, though it wavered at the edges, barely masking his unease as the figure approached. “Nothing! Just admiring our lord and saviour!” he blurted, the words tumbling out too fast, too forced.

Lilith’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, slicing through his facade with terrifying ease. “I’ve told you never to touch those,” she hissed, her voice cold and unforgiving. The intensity of her glare made Adam instinctively step back, his bravado crumbling. “This isn’t just about your twisted obsession with our Deity. No one is allowed to touch the statues of Quetzalcoatl.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to the statues, their stone faces impassive, indifferent to his suffering. A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he wilted under Lilith’s icy disapproval. The guards stationed nearby seemed to close in, their presence suffocating. They were there to ensure that no one, not even a fool like Adam, would defile the sacred ground. The punishment for such a transgression was brutal, swift—beheading by the very guards who now watched him with thinly veiled contempt.

Lilith’s voice cut through the tense air, her frustration palpable. “I’m tired of turning a blind eye,” she growled, her tone low and dangerous. “Our past can only shield you for so long, Adam. One day, someone else will be on duty, and they won’t hesitate to take your head off.”

Desperation clawed at Adam, and he forced a teasing smile onto his face, though it felt more like a grimace. “Have I mentioned how sexy you are when you’re angry?” he quipped, his voice strained, pleading for a reaction that would soften the moment.

Lilith’s expression twisted in disgust. “Not even in your nightmares,” she spat, her words like poison.

Adam flinched but pushed forward, clinging to the hope that something, anything, could pierce her icy exterior. “Why not?” he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of his hope.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lilith replied, her tone colder than ever. Her icy-blue eyes raked over him, each glance a cut. “Who would ever consider dating a burnout like you? You’re not even a real Phoenix.”

The words struck him like a physical blow, but Adam forced himself to keep smiling. He fumbled in his pocket, his hands shaking, and pulled out a small, sparkling stone. “I found something for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It reminded me of you.”

Lilith’s gaze hardened as she stared at the stone, her lips curling into a sneer. “I don’t want it. Why would I ever want something as tacky as that?”

Adam’s hand trembled violently now as he looked down at the stone, once so beautiful in his eyes. “I thought it was stunning,” he murmured, his voice hollow.

“It’s ugly,” Lilith snapped, her tone biting. “How many times do I have to tell you? I would never be interested in someone like you. I would never want you as my Omega. You’re pathetic, Adam. The other guards laugh at you every time they see you hanging around here, clinging to some delusion that I’d ever want to court you.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his vision blurring as he glanced back at the stone still in his hand. His arm, outstretched, felt frozen in time, a painful reminder of his foolish hopes. The whispers and sneers of the guards behind him echoed in his ears, a cruel chorus of his failure.

Lilith’s expression twisted into something darker as she snatched the stone from his hand, her nails scraping painfully against his skin. She held it up, barely glancing at it before locking her icy-blue eyes onto his. “This,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain, “is a terrible courting gift. If you were serious about trying to court me—which is laughable, by the way—this wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what’s required for the mating ritual. You’re the laughingstock of Pentagram City, Adam.”

“I-I…” Adam stammered, his heart constricting as Lilith carelessly tossed the stone over the wall of statues. It vanished in an instant, out of reach, gone forever.

Lilith’s patience snapped as she bared her fangs at him, stepping forward with a predatory grace. Her Alpha pheromones filled the air, suffocating him, forcing him to stumble back. “You can’t even handle a fully grown Alpha’s pheromones,” she snarled, her voice a low growl. “How could you ever hope to satisfy someone like me? And what’s worse, you’re not even a full Phoenix, Adam. There’s no passion in you, no true flame. You’re burnt out before you’ve even had a chance to ignite.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his world spinning as her words carved into him, each one leaving a deep, festering wound.

“We would never have worked,” Lilith continued, her voice unyielding. “I deserve better. So much better than… whatever you are.” With a sharp, decisive movement, she slammed her spear into the ground, the sound reverberating through the tense air. Her icy-blue eyes bore into him, and when Adam finally broke, bowing his head in submission, she relented with a sigh, almost rolling her eyes as she pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“Adam, I get it,” she said, her voice softening slightly, but the damage was done. “I understand why you’re clinging to me. When we were children, I was your only friend, the only one who showed you kindness. I know how that must have seemed to you.”

Lilith paused, her expression hardening as if she were chiseling Adam’s fate in stone. “But you must accept it was a mistake, a misunderstanding. There’s nothing here for you, Adam. Nothing but pain.”

“We could never coexist together. Never. We are too different.” She clicked her tongue and took a step back, straightening her lean, sturdy form. Her body was a study in contrasts, her small waist giving way to thick, powerful hips and thighs that hinted at her lethal strength. Her chest was well-formed, her long golden hair streaked with black and grey that framed her face before fading back into gold. She was every inch the warrior, her beauty a deceptive mask for the predator beneath. “Maybe, if you had successfully burned as a Phoenix, there might have been a slim possibility. But since you haven’t, there is none at all. Absolutely nothing. We are far too different, and I am expected to birth strong offspring. My children are destined to continue the line of guardians for Quetzalcoatl’s temple.”

Her eyes locked onto Adam’s once more, and this time, he could see the sharp black slits within them, smaller blue eyes nestled within her primary ones, giving her a monstrous, otherworldly appearance. “Any offspring of yours would only bring shame and dishonor to my clan. Any children you produced with me would die the moment they left the nest, and I cannot bring such a curse upon my people.”

Adam swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he forced them into a tight, thin line. He nodded sharply, the truth of her words cutting deep. Lilith’s lineage was one of power, a female-only breed brought to life by Quetzalcoatl’s own webbing. They were guardians, trained from birth to fight and kill any who threatened their sacred charge. Adam had never seen Lilith’s true form, but he had glimpsed the warriors of Jorōgumo—deadly, alluring creatures who could transform from innocent beauty into deadly predator in the blink of an eye. They lured the unsuspecting with sweetness, only to devour them whole.

As a child, Adam had believed that Lilith cared for him, at least a little. She had never tried to devour him, never tried to ensnare him in her web like so many of her sisters and kin would have done to their ‘friends.’ She had been dismissive, yes, but she had also spent countless hours with him after he began venturing outside Eden. She had never once tried to lure him with sweet words or false promises, never tried to trick him into her web to be consumed. Adam had taken it as a sign that he was special, that their connection was special. But now, as her words sank in, he realized the truth: Lilith’s indifference was not a mark of affection, but of disinterest.

A true sign of love among the Jorōgumo was to be devoured after mating, to become sustenance for the next generation.

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered weakly, the words barely audible over the roar of his own despair.

Lilith scoffed, her grip tightening around her spear. “Don’t be sorry. Just leave me alone. You’ve never been worth anything to me, let alone as a mate. Get your head out of the clouds.”

Adam nodded, a slow, defeated motion. He had hoped, perhaps against reason, that she might say something more, that there might be some spark of tenderness, however small. But Lilith’s icy-blue eyes remained fixed on him, glaring with a finality that chilled him to the bone. Realizing she had finished with him, that she needed him to leave, Adam offered a sheepish smile, his last shred of dignity, before scrambling past her and fleeing toward the city.

His eyes flickered to the other Jorōgumo women watching him, each one a vision of lethal beauty with golden and red curls framing faces of icy-blue indifference. Their gazes trailed after him, uninterested, as they began to whisper amongst themselves. He could feel their mocking laughter, even though they barely acknowledged his existence.

“I’m not gonna cry,” Adam muttered to himself, his voice breaking as he forced his legs to move faster. “I’m not gonna cry.”

But the pain clawed at him, a raw wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The Jorōgumo were a dominant breed, their ranks filled with Alphas and few Omegas. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t disguise themselves as an Omega to lure their prey. It hurt more than he could bear to know that Lilith, the one he had foolishly hoped might see something in him, viewed him as nothing more than a speck of dirt on her perfectly polished boot.

“It hurts,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he ran, the snickers of the Jorōgumo echoing in his mind. “It hurts so much.”

“I’m not gonna cry,” he repeated, the mantra hollow and meaningless as the tears he refused to shed stung his eyes.

“I’m gonna die alone.”

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #au #guitarduck #a03 #fanficiton #omega x omega #omega adam #omega lucifer #omegaverse #omega pair #aztec mythology #aztec gods #losely based on Aztec mythology #promised souls

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