Czernbog Arrives


Czernobog was thankful he wasn’t one. He dismissed the thought with a small grunt and judged it a miserable life. Czernobog looked to the direction of the house and wondered if the Zorya’s were done with their cleaning. Thoughts of the house re-arranged into different positions that made maneuvering around difficult and strong smells of chemical cleaners entered Czernobog’s mind. He shook his head in distaste.

He thought about reading the newspaper again, but didn’t want to become angry about its contents. He still had plenty of cigarettes in his pockets, but lighting them would only remind him of the burning incense, the smoking offerings from the old days that were burned in honor of him. It was too much right now. Czernobog wished to remain in a somewhat pleasant mood.

When he ran out of small bread pieces to feed to the animals in the park and took this as a sign that it was time to return home. He shuffled through the park, taking note of the silver wrappers from candy bars. Just another sign of the disregard for the land. He was becoming much too upset with this city. On his return home he saw a large grey dog pass with its jogging owner and smiled, thinking of the Old Wolf. He hated the fucking bastard but still smiled thinking of him. It was strange what Votan, Wednesday, could do to people. These were signs. He felt it. Czernobog stopped and looked around to access the situation. All appeared ok for now, but he couldn’t help but feel the strange signs of a disregarded land and a large wolf-like dog haunt the back of his mind, taunting him ferociously.

Czernobog stopped before climbing the stairs and looked up at the long staircase. He appreciated the way the squat brownstone retained its original architecture. It gave him hope. Halfway up the stairs, the smell hit him and he wrinkled his big nose.
“Ah! Zoryas! Stop that fucking cleaning! Oranges, always smells of oranges!” The cleaner, orange-scented with bleach and ammonia, rang through the hall and he growled in anger, knowing they couldn’t hear him. It was the thought that counted. He stopped at the door, condemning any new sort of layout the room would have surely assumed. Tucking his newspaper under his arm he stopped, hearing a familiar voice. From inside he heard the man’s voice. Wednesday’s son. The big man, Shadow. Touching the folded game of checkers in his pocket he smiled fondly and opened the door, ready to shake the man’s hand.

It had been so long since he’d seen Shadow and he owned him a final, deadly blow from his hammer. Czernobog turned the creaking handle and found it jammed. Letting out another loud groan, guttural and earth shaking, he tried once more. The door wouldn’t open. After taking a moment to breath, he looked at the door as if it were a person, and with more force than necessary opened the door, slamming his shoulder against it.

This was not his house. Even in all of the spring-cleanings he had suffered, the house never looked like this. The Zorya’s were still Slavs, and knew that a room like this wouldn’t suit them. The room had no walls but instead four benches at each corner. Four large posts established the boundaries of the room and a large one stood in the center. There were birds everywhere and they flew past him and perched on the ground, pecking at food.
Czernobog stood, confused and angry. This was not his house and even he, didn’t know where he was.

A thick splatter landed against Czernobog’s robe. He would have shouted out in anger, but he looked down and saw the spot just above his heart. Instead of getting angry, he looked up and smiled cynically at the bird that shit on his heart. He respected the little bastard for having such good aim.

((Czernobog's from American Gods arrival of the island. He ended up in the Aviary. All welcome. First tag explain the thing, the following just find him in there, confused :D))