66

He can be so silent and focused, when he wishes to be, and I admire that.
Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised, he's a God after all. This too seems effortless to him. He barely opens his eyes, however we don’t bump into anything(not that there's much other than clouds up here) or travel unbalanced. I wonder how his gift works, does he simply think of the place he wants to go to and let nature – well...nature to him – take its course or is it more like driving, ya have to know the path to reach yer destination?
There is no need to hold on to him, like I’d done last night; his iron grip is secure around my waist and shoulder. I let go of him and throw my hands up at the brightening sky, to see if I can touch it-- It just seems so close – I can’t. I close my eyes, turn so that my back is against his torso and relax against him, trusting him not to drop me, trusting him with my life.
Now and then I open my eyes to see that he is watching me with a strange expression. What are ya thinking, D'ziko?
We’re travelling in a slow pace, the wind brushing nicely against my exposed skin. He lets my hair out of the messy bun I’ve pinned it in and it dances to the winds song.
“I’d like to complete the mating bond with ya,” he says, voice trembling.
My eyes open in surprise and I try not to frown as I ask, careful, more afraid of the answer than anything else. “In other words, ya want us to go all the way.”
He hesitates. "Yes. No. I don't know?"
“Which one is it?”
“Well...the way ya ask makes me think ya think I'm asking ya to be intimate with me,” he says. “That's not what I want. No. I mean, I want to be intimate with ya someday but that’s not what I'm asking now. I want to perform the mating ritual.”
A mating ritual is performed by a sangoma-- people with a gift to put together muthi(portions) and talk to the dead.
The mating ceremony will involve black chicken, dozen doves, fire (and no we don't burn the doves nor do we eat the chicken), and the sangoma will call upon the ancestors to join our gifts.
Only then will our spirits connect the way the Gods intended.
“ya know what that means, right?” I grimace.
“Doesn’t she already know?” he says more to himself than to me. He smiles down at me, suddenly nervous. “I love ya.”
I can't say it back but he doesn't seem devastated by this. Instead I say, “How can I ever ask that of ya? I can't risk yer life. I’m sorry.”
What he wants is for me to put myself first. He wants to have the power to negotiate. Should I ever be on death’s claws, he could trade my life for his. And since he's the Death-God, his death will grant me immortality.
“Think about it, please,” he says, heaving a sigh. His gaze boring into mine. “People know ya as the Goddess. The Essence Thief wants to kill ya. And because they think I'm Leza’s killer, I can’t be anywhere near ya. I can't protect ya. Not the way I'd like to.”
“There’s got to be another way,” I say, flicking my tongue dismissively. “Even if I die, it's only natural.”
"Ya don't get it do ya?" He sighs, exaggerated. “I refuse to live in a world where ya don't exist.”
I study him to see if he is kidding but there isn’t a smile in place or the usual playful glint in his eyes.
“That's stupid,” I say. Angry. “Either way ya'll be dead, away from me. So the mating ritual will be kind of a mute sacrifice.”
His eyes are cautious. “I’m a God which means in my death I'll be omnipresent, still able to protect ya. But if ya die...”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Imani, nobody knows that better than I do.” He presses his lips to my head. “I don't doubt that for a second.”
“I don't want ya. Not like that.”
“I see.”
I shake my head. He misunderstood. “No, that's not what I'm trying to say…”
“What?”
Thank ya, Leza. I'm too brown for him to see what would've been profuse blushing. “No never mind.”
“Tell me, Imani, please?”
I can't deny him anything. I sigh. “D’ziko, what makes ya think I want to go back to a life without ya?”
“I’m sorry. I didn't realise.”
“Yeah.”
The silence that follows is nice. I'm tempted to ask, are we there yet. I don't even know where “there” is. He said it's a surprise. I just hope it’s not that kind of surprise.
"How were ya…conceived?” I fidget. “I know we touched on this briefly, but I'm curious is the process the same for Gods as it is for humans?”
What I really should be asking is: will the process be the same for us?
“It’s complicated” --he looks at the clouds as though they'll have the words he seeks-- “how do I explain this without confusing ya – oh right – ya see, our kind is different from ya people, we don't just do it and then bam, a baby. With us, it involves a lot of careful timing since the female ovulates once a year. My father tells these stories better. My knowledge is limited to only what he's shared with me."
Finally, after a long silent moment, I ask. “So all babies are born October?”
He stares into space. “Yes. That's why Gods don't bother with birthday celebrations.”
“For what reason were ya conceived?”
He frowns. “What?”
“Look, even if yer mother and father were in love, they'd make sure that kind of mistake doesn't happen to them.” I hesitate. “I think ya were planned. They created ya for a reason.”