Savages of the Sacred Salvage
You did everything a responsible parent could be expected to do and more. Some people will just never be able to see sense or care about anything but their own selfish wants, however, and Chameek unfortunately seems to be one of them.
"When he was a child I hoped that he would one day learn to be a man," Bainto says, hanging a pale blue remembrance crystal on a Bright God with a regretful sigh. "But his flaws only became worse with time, no matter how we tried to teach him."
You gaze at the crystal, its many facets glinting in the sun. In each one is captured a memory of your son, from a tiny infant, to a prattling youth. From the days you still had hope for him, till now. Then you reach into your pocket and pull out another crystal, a vivid pinkish red one you've been saving awhile.
Bainto's eyebrows shoot up. "Is that...?"
You drape it over one of the Bright God's arms with a grin, turning to embrace Bainto and beginning to kiss and stroke him without a word. Besides the fertility magic contained in such a crystal, the specific shape of this one makes it extremely potent for a man, and to both of your delight you find your husband is able to perform for the first time in years. Right there in the field in front of the god you both get busy making a newer, better son, with wild abandon. Even the sudden arrival of a locust from Hell can't disturb your coupling, and afterwards you note with satisfaction that it only stole the remembrance crystal; the fertility one is still there and so its magic is completely fine. Indeed, neither of you ever spare a moment's thought for Chameek or hear anything about him ever again. Maybe he was eaten by a beak dog, who cares. And although you're nearly four decades of age, you soon find yourself carrying a child.
Later you convince Bainto his renewed vigor is enough to take that cousin's daughter you met as a bride as well, and soon you're living the primitive tribal incestuous polygamist's dream. There are babies everywhere who keep all of your hands full and grow into happy, respectful children who do all their chores and then into worthwhile, functioning adults. If Chameek's memories hadn't been eaten by the locust, you would only wonder why you hadn't drowned him at birth for being born during the convergence of the wandering star of Much Drama with the Stubborn Ass constellation, as per your people's ancient tradition.
"When he was a child I hoped that he would one day learn to be a man," Bainto says, hanging a pale blue remembrance crystal on a Bright God with a regretful sigh. "But his flaws only became worse with time, no matter how we tried to teach him."
You gaze at the crystal, its many facets glinting in the sun. In each one is captured a memory of your son, from a tiny infant, to a prattling youth. From the days you still had hope for him, till now. Then you reach into your pocket and pull out another crystal, a vivid pinkish red one you've been saving awhile.
Bainto's eyebrows shoot up. "Is that...?"
You drape it over one of the Bright God's arms with a grin, turning to embrace Bainto and beginning to kiss and stroke him without a word. Besides the fertility magic contained in such a crystal, the specific shape of this one makes it extremely potent for a man, and to both of your delight you find your husband is able to perform for the first time in years. Right there in the field in front of the god you both get busy making a newer, better son, with wild abandon. Even the sudden arrival of a locust from Hell can't disturb your coupling, and afterwards you note with satisfaction that it only stole the remembrance crystal; the fertility one is still there and so its magic is completely fine. Indeed, neither of you ever spare a moment's thought for Chameek or hear anything about him ever again. Maybe he was eaten by a beak dog, who cares. And although you're nearly four decades of age, you soon find yourself carrying a child.
Later you convince Bainto his renewed vigor is enough to take that cousin's daughter you met as a bride as well, and soon you're living the primitive tribal incestuous polygamist's dream. There are babies everywhere who keep all of your hands full and grow into happy, respectful children who do all their chores and then into worthwhile, functioning adults. If Chameek's memories hadn't been eaten by the locust, you would only wonder why you hadn't drowned him at birth for being born during the convergence of the wandering star of Much Drama with the Stubborn Ass constellation, as per your people's ancient tradition.
