creator_raven | OOC: Somewhere in the middle

The thing people don’t speak of much is what happened between. That’s prolly ‘cause most of ‘em are dead, right enough. Worlds burned to cinders don’t leave much evidence behind, truth be told. And those that do know, don’t often speak of it.

He prefers it that way, so far’s we can tell. Though he wouldn’t mind me tellin’ you. Someone’s got to know, you ken? ‘s important.

So. Things were goin’ along well enough, the third time ‘round. People growin’ up, and playin’ games, and livin’ their lives all happy-like. And Raven, he was content enough to watch ‘em. Sometimes he’d drop in and stir things up, but mostly he kept to himself. Well, when people were watchin’ him, anyhow.

He’s good at slippin’ sideways, that one.

So things keep goin’, and the world keeps turnin’, and the sun’s all sorts of shinin’, when things shift. His people start forgettin’, you see, who they are, what they do, what’s right. And Raven, well, he steps in an’ tries to remind ‘em, but they ain’t having none of it.

“You get in the way,” they tell him. “Leave us alone, we’ve got our own plans.”

And Raven looks powerful sad, a moment, but he just shrugs his shoulders, sayin’, “As you will have it, this time. I will wait for your call to return.”

And he goes, leavin’ a feather behind in the dirt. His people try to burn it out, and they try to cut it out, and they do all they can to make it so that feather ain’t there anymore. Nothing works. You prolly aren’t surprised by that, are you?

Good girl.

So they ignore it. People are right good at that, even when they ain’t half tryin’. Not surprisin’ that when they turn their minds to it they’re better’n anyone in the ‘verse.

So they leave that feather there, and eventually people forget what it means. And they build bigger houses, and bigger fact’ries, and bigger everythin’, until the only thing green in that place is the money. Oldest story you’ll be findin’, I think. People, like flowers an’ trees an’ things, grow toward what they need to live. Or what they think they need to live. Ain’t always the same thing, those.

And, like all such people, they ‘ventually decide what they’ve got ain’t enough, and start hoardin’ everythin’ they can. Some of ‘em even get the bright idea that if they kill off all the rest o’ the people in the world, they’ll have everythin’ they could ever want.

Some people ain’t p’ticularly bright, you ken? Can’t exist alone. Even Raven knows that, though he still travel on his lonesome. ‘s why he makes so many stops, when he travels. A friendly face an’ a bright smile’ll get you through all manner o’ troubles. He knows his business.

‘t any rate, these people, they take their machines, and they make it so they kill. And they build ‘em bigger an’ bigger every day, till they’ve got things as can take the world apart. And then—

Well—

An’ then they do.

So Raven, he eventually finds himself back in that part o’ creation, and he stops to check in on ‘em. Only they ain’t there. ‘s just a big hunk o’rock, floatin’ there around the sun. Ain’t nothin’ livin’ on it, nor never will be again.

The thing that kills Raven, girl, the thing that makes this more unbearable than anythin’ he’s ever seen before—and he’s seen a lot, by this time, believe you me—is that that feather’s still there.

It’s stickin’ up out of the ashes, bright and clean as the day he left it. Ain’t nobody touched it. Ain’t nobody trusted him enough, believed in him enough, to call him.

Ain’t nobody wanted him. That cuts him, that cuts him deep. Because, at the heart of things, this bird ain’t got no one but the people he makes. He loves us, you ken? ‘d be like if you got yourself in a bind, and you didn’ want my help. I’d be powerful sad, and so was he. Only this ain’t the first time it happened. Ain’t the first time by a long shot.

An’ he’s tired. So tired of watchin’ this, thinkin’ every time he coulda stopped it, if he’d been here. And it’s a powerful heavy thing to kill a planet, girl. Powerful heavy. And he’s thinkin’ it ain’t his people should be payin’ the price for that. Ain’t no way he’s leavin’ any more of ‘em to that fate.

So he leaves that feather right where it is, and he builds himself another place. But this one he don’t leave. And they grow, right enough, and it’s all smiles and joy and laughter in the beginnin’, and he’s happy enough. But this place turns, too. They all do, ‘ventually. ‘s a question of choice.

An’ they ask him to leave, again, and this time he says, ‘ You will not see me any longer.’ ‘Cause Raven’s a tricky bastard, but he’s not so fond of lyin’.

Thin’s went along same way’s before, buildin’ bigger things, better things, things as could make bigger holes in people and their houses and their land. An’ at the end, when they started turnin’ on each other like rats packed to close in a cage, Raven stepped back into view, and he burned ‘em all.

Scoured that world clean of every livin’ thing, and some of the non-livin’ ones, too. It was as easy for him as breathin’ is for us. Easier, even.

So things went on like that for quite a while. He’d broken, you ken? Ain’t no comin’ back from that. Never has been, won’t never be, I don’t think. But Raven mastered it, in the end. An’ that’s all we can ask from him, really.

An’ that’s why we keep this story alive, and why he lets us tell it. Someone’s gotta know what he can do. Someone’s gotta be afraid of him. And someone—us, my girl—‘s gotta prepared for when it all goes to shit again.

He made us promise. An’ we’ll keep it.

An’ that’s all.