Chapter Text
The sight of Agnes in the remains of his mother’s shop was something that nearly made Gerard do a double take. Even when the store was whole she had not often come there. Gertrude was the one who picked him up when Mary hadn’t dropped him off with her at the Archives. The light that radiated off of her lit the moss covered rubble in a way that seemed unnatural though he knew it could be comfortable and warm in other places. That could be due to the fact that the light from Agnes was more akin to fire than the dim but ever present blue-green bioluminescence this place was naturally meant to have.
“You really shouldn’t smoke,” he had to hold back a chuckle at the familiarity of the complaint. They’d had this argument countless times, before his forced ascension to lichdom he had cared little for his health given he was not going to live long anyways and now that he was a lich he had no reason to be concerned for his health.
“I’m already a corpse mother dearest, I doubt this little thing will kill me,” there was a telltale twitch in her four wings that gave away how uncomfortable she was with that. He wasn’t entirely certain if it was being called mother, he had technically killed his real mother after all though he had to admit he hadn’t really meant to, or the reminder of his undead state that made her uncomfortable, He would not claim to know Agnes’ innerworkings any better than any child knows their parents thoughts. “So, what brings you to my little garden?”
“She wa-”
“Are you her messenger bird now?” He snapped. Jude would warn him against it, and she would probably correct to. He knew Agnes could have a temper at times. He’d never seen it in action but you couldn’t look at her and not know it. She radiated violence, usually kept calmly maintained and leashed but never missing, though he thought that might simply be what it meant to be an angel. Razia and her children were made soldiers and though Agnes hadn’t been one in his lifetime she had been made to be one by the Boros archangel herself even if she had left.
“I’m her wife, and I happen to care a lot about you as well so why would I not do this when she would be turned away immediately.”
“You care for me but not enough to convince her to let me rest like I wanted?”
“You know I didn’t wa-”
“I know that you would rather she broke her promise and had someone revive me as I was rather than make me a lich and skirt around it. I wanted death, to return to nature and be allowed to stay without interruption.”
“You can’t blame me for not wanting you to die when you’d barely lived!” There was a burst of fire, the heat enough to singe some of the moss and fungi that had grown in him as his flesh decayed, that she clearly had not meant to let loose. She shook herself off, her wings fluttering behind her, and visibly seemed calmer as the fire was carefully reigned in once again. “We’re not going to have this argument,” her tone left no question, “we’re worried. It can’t exactly be healthy to spend your time in this place.”
“I don’t spend all my time here,” it sounded defensive as it left his mouth, more so than it really should have given it was the truth, “I stop by your favorite café every now and then, I’ve also got swarm duties which do pull me away at least once per day.”
“Do you even have a home?” The sincerity behind the question felt like a knife in his heart. He knew what she was attempting to do, why she was so concerned at his supposed lack of a real personal life. It wasn’t the same as her thing though. Agnes had been inhumane from the moment she was formed, her struggle with personhood was real but not what he had been going through since becoming what he now was.
“I do, legally speaking, I’m the only next of kin my mother had. She didn’t leave a will or anything but it is mine as far as any law around cares about except for maybe the Orzhov but she was more into the forgotten gods than their religion.”
“And have you been there at all?”
“Of course I haven’t,” he didn't need to, but she knew that. They were the same in that regard now, "but I've been going to the community park over by it, outside of business, and I do have a handful of acquaintances." She perked up at that, the inferno where normal people had eyes glinting in a way that should not be possible.
"Really?" The hesitant hope in her tone was perhaps earned, even while he interned at the Institute you could hardly say he had healthy social life. It wasn't like he hadn't tried but between being so painfully aligned with the Golgari ideology and the fact his death a looming over him he simply hadn't had much success.
"Yes, really," he rolled his eyes, trying to not think too much of the moss that coated the edge of his eye sockets, "listen, I'm not going to be forgiving her anytime soon and I know you two care but... I just need time."
"She only has a hundred or so years at most," he wanted to laugh at that, she said it like that was so short when he'd been meant to die before living even half that. Granted for a human on Ravnica that was only half their life but still.
"I know," he replied, suppressing his own feelings on the matter as best he could, "now would you get out of here please? You're unsettling my zombies and no doubt any of my actual coworkers would be unsettled to see you here as well."