Becca's Mesopotamia Story

"KANAIRA!"
A young girl poked her head through the door, a thick black braid falling over one shoulder. Dark brown eyes nearly hidden under side bangs and a mass of freckles, she carefully slunk into the kitchen, performed a customary bow, and replied, "Yes, Awari?"
A dark skinned woman was hunched over a clay pot in a corner of her kitchen, mouth twisted into a fiercely determined line. She extended her arm, snapped her dusty fingers, and kept stirring with her left hand.  "Get me the- the-"
Kanaira shook her head and groped around the cupboard Awari was pointing at until her fingers closed around a glass bottle. On her tiptoes, she carefully drew it out, set it on the counter, and closed the cupboard. Awaria nodded a thanks and, without hesitation, dumped the contents of the jar into the bowl. Kanaira shrieked.
"AI YAI YAI!" screamed the teenaged girl, hands flying to her head. Awari leaned calmly against the counter, still stirring. "AWARI, ARE YOU INSANE? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?!??"
Awari, relaxed as ever, lazily picked up the bottle and flipped it over in her fingers to find the label.
Then she dropped it, almost spat in disbelief, and threw the pitcher out the window.
It smashed through the glass, knocked out a windowpane and cracked against the hardpacked dirt outside before bursting into flame. Awari and Kanaira stared through the shattered window in silence, as fire crawled along the edges of the container and disappeared into the ground.
Kanaira sighed and dug out a new bowl. "Next time, check."




IRARRA PICKED AT his lamb, lips pursed as he folded up a piece in his bread. Sitting stiffly at the other end of the table, Awari shifted her plate from side to side and bit back an exhausted sigh; she was required to sit at the table until he finished eating.
He was eating very slowly.
Awari held back another sigh. "How was your wo-"
"Quiet," he snapped.
Both of them paused in silence, holding a tense moment of stillness. He returned to his food as Awari raised an eyebrow; unfortunately, he caught her doing so, reached across, and grabbed her wrist. Pain crawling up her arm, Awari remained still, knowing a movement could bring her injury.
Irarra let his slitted eyes wander up to her face, cold with anger. Awari swallowed, tasting blood in the corners of her mouth. At ease, Irarra returned to his food and Awari sat stiffly upright. Blood rang in her ears; she tugged away from her husband very slightly. His grip tightened instantly.
"Listen, filth," growled Irarra; Awari could feel his fingers digging into her veins. "The only reason you're here and not on the streets is me. If not for me, you'd be starving in alleys selling shawls, so watch your mouth, dirt."
Before she could stop herself she replied, "I am not dirt."
Irarra stared at her in stunned disbelief and Awari stared right back in horror. Fear raced through every vein in her body, piercing her everywhere. Irarra raised his hand; she knew that if she was not killed now the court would drown her later; her life flashed before her eyes and then she smashed into the wall behind her, Irarra snarling with a glare in his eyes.
"You dare," he gasped, advancing, "defy me, the vizier of Na-"
"I am not dirt," growled Awari, overcome with defiance. Irarra stepped forward and raised his hand; a river of blue light streamed out of his palm, curling around his ankle, and then it snapped towards a frightened and confused Awari. Hard as a rock, it struck her against the legs and she collapsed to the ground. Irarra took another step forward, eyes glowing a pale gold. He opened his mouth to speak and then suddenly closed it, as if he possessed a second spirit. Awari growled.
"Just because you tricked the government doesn't mean you can fool me," she hissed, fists curling at her sides as Irarra kept trying to speak. A voice rang through her head, striking a cord within every part of her brain. She took a step forward and extended her hand; before she knew it there was a snarling, full size leopard in front of her.
Irarra stared.
"Impossible," he gasped, eyes wide. "You, hosting a goddess?"
Rage boiled through Awari's chest; shock, too, but she wouldn't let him see that. "Don't act so surprised, Irarra, I wouldn't have expected it from you either."
Irarra curled his lips in a grudgingly amused smirk. "Classy."
Awari glared at him.
"Get out."
"What?"
The leopard snarled.
"Get out, now."
"Peasant, you forget that this my house; if anyone is leaving it shall be you."
"I could kill you any day."
"Really?"
Awari glowered at him fiercely, with burning eyes. "Yes. Get. Out."
Irarra looked back at her coldly. "I will leave. But you forgot one thing of yours which has, and will always be, mine."
Confused, she let him walk to the door and then asked, "What?"
He paused and shot her a sickly smile, before sweeping out the door. "Kanaira."


"I don't know. What do I do? I can't just leave her; I don't know what pain will come to her with him!"
The leopard looked back at her, perched atop the kitchen counter. Dust had already collected in the ridges along its shoulders; it crouched down, rippling with muscle, waiting for a command. Awari sighed, slamming the meat cleaver down onto the counter.
"I don't know- what to do," she panted, heaving the knife out of the countertop; it had cut through like butter. "Can you give me an answer? A sign? Something?"
It licked its paw. Then it spoke.
Awari screamed, nearly slamming into the roof - it had spoken a single word, "no", but that was enough to freak anyone out. It resumed licking its paw, warm gold eyes staring up at her, and said no more as Awari stared at it. The woman clutched her chest, nearly having a heart attack.
"You- you-"
It looked at her disapprovingly, making a sound as though it were whistling through its teeth. Atilla. Atilla. Atilla.
"Your name," guessed Awari; the leopard didn't move, but continued to wash itself, swiping a wet paw over its ear.
Its ear, her ear. Whatever.
For the next hour, Awari paced around the kitchen in a fit of dismay, while Atilla explored the house, knocking over pots and spilling food with the swish of a tail. When Awari finally came to her senses, she found the house such a mess that it was unbearable, and so packed up food and clothes and her bow and left with Atilla trailing behind her(obviously pleased with herself).
"Well," said Awari, sighing lightly as they left the house behind, "I suppose that was a sign too, hm?"
Atilla bounced alongside her.
"I don't even know where we're going," confessed Awari, shifting her pack. "I don't know what I'm doing; I just have to get Kanaira. Ow!"
Atilla had nipped Awari's hand, trying to get her attention. Awari held herself back from swatting Atilla(the well meaning leopard had left a large, red mark) and paused. The feline stood, staring at her, until Awari began walking again; the leopard jerked her head left, towards the market - dusty, bright, full of commoners. Awari raised an eyebrow, shrugged and headed straight in.
Each aisle was crowded with stands carrying oversize fruits - dark-speckled pears, crushed and overripe figs, dates, brilliantly purple plums, huge wreaths of brightly green grapes wrapping around the tents - or disks of unleavened bread in different shades of brown, some slathered with butter, some spicy and red. Otherwise they held jugs of creamy-white milk, containers of lightly yellow butter, jars of salt, preserved fish, deer, nuts,  herbs, olives - everything. Across the aisle from the market goods lay the property of the farmers; goats in gray and brown and black, shaggy donkeys with stripes of gold on their backs, black and white sheep in a mess of tangled wool, lean gray dogs and massive brown cattle with painted horns. The entire alley rang with noise, people yelling and dogs baying and children screeching. Awari looked around in shock and then grinned; this, she had never seen the likes of before.
No one seemed to notice Atilla, or rather, this might have been a common sight in a market where people from pretty much everywhere gathered. As it was, they spent a while meandering the market, picking up breads here, fruits there, a donkey, a dagger. At a significantly later time they set off toward the sunset, having gathered info about Irarra and his "passenger"'s whereabouts from spies and urchins in the market, and feeling both comfortably full and uncomfortably in danger.

IRARRA AND KANAIRA WERE found in Babylon, but by the time Atilla and Awari arrived they were both nearly dead. They had almost drowned crossing a river, had been bitten by mosquitos too many times to count, were nearly completely dehydrated, and severely bruised everywhere from fights with animals, thieves, and various monsters - werewolves, edimmu(people not properly buried so that they would roam the earth eternally), a vampire. The only thing keeping them alive was the promise of food, for Atilla, and Kanaira, for Awari.
There was something else, too. Nagging at the back of their minds. Pushing them onward. Something they didn't know about.
A bigger plan.

PERCHED ON HIS THRONE in Heaven, Enlil sighed. Fingers glowing just as they always did, he slashed a hand through the mist in front of him and watched it disappear; then he stood and walked over to the edge of Heaven and sat down, dangling his legs over the side. He could almost reach the clouds from there, always so close and yet so untouchable, and in a fit of melancholy he swirled his feet around just above the atmosphere, yearning to walk .
the Earth once more.
He had done it once, walked around Mesopotamia with the humans, laughed and ate and sang, and then common sense came back and he returned to Heaven with an unsatiable thirst in his heart to be with man.
And he was going to do it again, soon; and this time he would stay.
Enlil did, however, need a sacrifice, from both the humans and the gods; then he would bestow his power onto Antu, lose his glow, and live with the people again.
But now was not the time. Soon.
He flipped over to lay down on his chest and extended his arms into the Atmosphere, fingers clutching at Antarctica, and brought the Earth up to face level, bright blue eyes observing the continents. Sun, in the background, scooched closer so the humans wouldn't freeze, close enough to warm Enlil's face as well.
Pleasantly warm, he breathed lightly onto Mesopotamia; and so the clouds cleared and Sun, Enlil's little child, shone brightly, and his son brought warmth to the people, glowing brightly, fiercely. A pang of guilt rose in Enlil's chest that there was only one race to enjoy the beauty of life, and he set the Earth down on a cushion of air and rocked back onto his knees to grab his clay.
As he fashioned the first human of a new race, Enlil thought about his return to the world, at his light being so subdued that the humans could really see him - right now even the gods couldn't see him, he shone so bright. Right now he was only a cap. A simple blue cap that had created the first life, the first society, the first things.
Enlil's weathered fingers delicately set down the figure and brought the Earth up to his gaze again; grabbing a curved lens out of thin air, he zoomed in on an untouched continent, a yellowish green blob. The curves and crags bothered him; crudely, without bothering to think, he smashed in the top right side, creating an appealing dip inward. Satisfied, he zoomed in more, searched around, found a place. From his fingers flowed forth a river, rolling and fighting against him, but when he set it down it flowed with ease: the Nile. And next to this he put the human, a cow, trees, wildlife; and so Egypt was born and Enlil watched in contentment as the cities grew, people were born, people died. In his next blink Egypt was thriving, independent, no longer needing him.
He turned away.
And then Enlil turned back to Mesopotamia instead, turned to his sacrifices almost connected. At last. They were close, so close, almost touching, almost there. Excitement roared in his chest; he would be back with the people, existing, living, thriving, ignoring. To ignore the responsibilities of the gods - to be submissive, to be ignorant instead all-knowing, to be irresponsible, accountable, unknowing. Enlil would know nothing and it would be a paradise.
He turned away again.
Soon.


ATILLA SNARLED.
Crouching beneath a stand of yellowing grasses, Awari's bowstring hummed against her fingers, holding an arrow, holding the promise of a better life. Just beyond, far enough to be slightly hazy in the heat, Irarra and Kanaira stood by the riverside with a pack mule and a lean grey dog. Awari could sense Atillas disgust: that is no challenge.
The bow hummed again, twisting against her fingers; she crawled forward, trying not to make any noise as Atilla followed her silently, with ease. Irarra took no notice, beginning to heave the packs off the donkey.
Then he began to glow.
At first it was only a soft blue light leaking out through the seams in his clothing. But then it began pouring out from all over his body: streaming through his temples, flowing out his fingertips, rushing out his shoes, his lips, his nose, his ears. He began to jerk, flailing around uncontrollably, twitching, snapping, whirling. And at last he opened his mouth and coughed, and a blue cap fell out of his mouth. Irarra collapsed to the ground, panting, heaving; and then the cap flew up and an amazingly intense light flew all around the river bank, blinding both Atilla and Awari temporarily.   


“TAKE IT,” snapped Enlil, shoving the world into Apsu’s hands. “Take it!”
Stumbling, Apsu clutched the sphere tightly. “Where are you-”
It was too late. A bright white light was now glowing from Babylon, casting a stark light across Mesopotamia. Apsu shook the Earth furiously; Enlil was breaking all the rules.


“ERRA.”
“Enlil.”
“You came.”
The two voices alternated in tone; one surprised, the other smug, the first now cold. Both were voices Awari had never heard before, deep, rumbling, one almost a growl. She opened her eyes and pain shot across her forehead; she squeezed them shut again, groping for Atilla, listening.
“This is the human?”
“It is not worthy?”
“More than I expected.”
They were talking about Kanaira. Her servant, her child.
“And where is Antu?”
Longing rose in Awari’s chest, unexpected and uncalled for.
“ANTU!”
Don’t. Speak.
“ANTU! ANSWER ME!”
“Enlil!” called out Awari before she could stop herself. The voice bubbling through her throat was not her own.
“Antu - not a good host?” The first voice, sounding amused. Eyes still closed, Awari or Antu or whoever it was dragged herself toward the voices.
“Open your eyes.”
Her eyelids snapped open, cooperative, apparently. A pale blue cap was bobbing in the sun, straddled over a blindingly bright light. A glowing hand reached out and touched her forehead. The entire world dimmed, giving features to the light, casting a kicking Kanaira and cruelly amused Irarra into relief.
“Did you tell her?” Enlil stared at Awari, his blurry facial features contorting into surprise. Awari shook her head no(or rather, it was sort of Antu’s head - at this point, the same thing.)
The cap-man-god-being leveled his gaze to her. “You are a sacrifice.”
And a knife she had not seen before rammed into her chest.
A numbingly frozen pain spread through her ribcage as Irarra, beside her, poured out golden blood. Enlil stared at them with a look of pity and sorrow and excitement on his barely defined face; his hands reached out to wash in the gold that streamed for their wounds; Atilla lay twitching beside them; Awari understood, at last, that she was both Antu and herself and both were being used for the sake of their creator.
When at last Irarra and Awari fell to the ground, Enlil dimmed. He became a young man of about twenty - lean, richly clothed, brown-haired, blue eyed. His cap remained to remind him of the sacrifice he had forced others to make; it would not come off no matter what he did and at last he stood there in bittersweet ecstasy.
“Sleep,” Enlil murmured, closing the eyes of his subjects, straightening Atilla’s curled body. “Apsu, take care of the earth. Love it.”
And he turned and disappeared, into a world which, he realized, contained the gods’ hell and more to compensate - a world holding all the devils he had never had to tamper with.
Yet.