I stir as I feel a hand, not on me, but on my temple, my place of worship. There's a pause before any movement, then someone enters. I hadn't opened my eyes in decades, maybe in centuries, as no one had visited me in longer. I did so now.

It was bright, sunlight coming in from cracks in the roof and walls, reflecting off the bone white tiles and translucent gems. Bugs and scavengers covered the room, but there was also a small girl, maybe six or seven, rummaging in her pockets. An adult called for her, but she ignored it, pulling out a small piece of candy and reaching up to place it on the altar.

She put her hands together and bowed her head in prayer, "I'm sorry it's not much, I hope you like it anyway." The adult called her again, and this time she left. Perhaps a crow or rat would eat the candy, but it would not fuel me, as it was too fresh.

The next day, she returned, placing leftover lunch, the next she left bits of flower and grass. I could not keep track of time well, so I do not know if it was weeks or months before I spoke. My voice was scratchy and hoarse, decayed from a lack of use.

"Why do you keep coming here?"

The girl jumps. She looks for me, seeing me crouched behind the altar. My hands held the fake ribcage, claws scratching the gem. My horns scraped the roof, my tail curled behind me, and my hair-like fur crawled with pests. She was much smaller than me, no bigger than my teeth. Her red hair shined such as fire in the light, and her pale, freckle-covered, skin reminded of the moon.

"Woah, were you here the whole time!" She climbs atop the altar, patting one of my fingers as she stares with dark, almost black eyes.

"Hmph," I move my hand to another bone. "What do you want? Why do you keep giving me offerings?"

The girl shrugs, "Whenever I have extra things, I think about how empty your altar was."

The idea perplexes me. I let out a sigh, tapping my fingers in thought. "I have no use for your offerings, only the rotted and old feed me. You have no use for my gifts. Stop taking time out of your day to worship me."

She instead sat down on my altar, a small speck on the slab. "What are you the god of?"

"Didn't you hear me?"

"But I don't know what you do!"

I lean down, a single breath as if a strong wind to her. "I'm Obscurus, god of rot and decay. When the god of death calls for the dying, I clean the corpses of flesh and blood. I borrow the disgraced animals of the goddess of nature, the vermin as my children. I am the janitor of famines and wars."

"...What..? I only got Ob- Ob-? What was it?"

"Obscurus."

"Ob-scur-us? Ob-Obscur- That's hard to say! Can I call you Obbie?"

My confusion had reached a breaking point. "I don't care, just go back home."

I picked her up, pinching the collar of her shirt as a mother to her kitten, placing her back onto the floor.

"Okay," she huffed. She quickly added, "I'm Cherry," and then she left.

But she returned the next day. I asked again, with different words, "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be worshiping with your parents, or playing with friends? What's worth wasting your time here?"

"I'm not wasting my time!" She whined. "My dad said every god has an important job, which is why we give them offerings! Isn't your job important?"

"Of course it is! If I didn't clear the dead, nothing new could be born!"

"Then you should get offerings!" Cherry nods. "I'm not sure what to give now. I tried asking my dad if we could find a corpse or something, but he got all worried."

"Isn't your dad worried you're always here?"

"No, I'm in the temple of a god! And you don't seem like a mean god who'd hurt me!"

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. My claws and fangs don't work on breathing things."

"You speak funny, Obbie."

She chatted on for the rest of the day, and days after. She grew bored of asking about me, settling on anything that popped into her head. She'd ask why the sky is blue, or where the sun goes, and I'd explain the stories of my fellow gods. Sometimes she'd run out of questions, and talk about her day. I didn't have to ask why she kept visiting anymore; I'd realized she was one lonely soul comforting another. Time passed, who knows how much. One day it was Cherry's birthday, another a holiday, another she found a rotting tree as an offering, and was quite excited. I didn't tell her that her conversation was enough.

"How long has it been since we met, Cherry?"

"Two years! Why?"

"Gods experience time quite differently. Years can pass by like seconds, or like a couple days. You slow everything down, but I wish to check."

"Is it a bad thing I slow things?"

"Not at all, it helps me listen to you."

Time passed, small things happened. She'd bring dead things for me, we'd trade words, we'd keep each other company. I asked a similar question another day.

"How old are you? How many birthdays have passed?"

"I'm eighteen! It's been ten years since we met!"

"Hmmm, time flies. Haven't you graduated from school?"

"Yeah!" Cherry was sitting on my shoulder, but now she stood and paced back and forth. "I never figured out what I wanted to do for a living..."

"Perhaps you could be my priest!" I let out a loud, long, laugh, the creatures in my temple making noises as well. A cacophony erupted at my joke.

Cherry was jostled when my shoulders shook, standing again. "That's not a terrible idea."

"No one else has come to my temple, they won't start now," I reminded.

She pouts, sitting down, head and back against my neck. "All the jobs around here are so boring! I want to do something great, maybe explore!"

I hum, "I think you were named wrong. You are not calm or still like the earth or growing fruit. You are hot headed and passionate, a blazing fire or ember."

Now she laughed, "You still speak weird, Obbie."

Days later,she returned ecstatic. "Obbie, Obbie! I know what I want to do!" She climbed atop the altar, "I'm gonna go to every temple and visit every god!"

"Every god?" I frown. "Most gods don't concern themself with mortals, and half are stuck in the afterlife."

"Well, I'll meet as many as I can! I want to learn from them and see the world! You'll help, won't you?"

"I can't come with you, but I can watch from the animals. I still think it's an impossible task."

She cupped her hands around her mouth, "Boo, you doubter!" She dropped her hands, but continued using them for emphasis. "I don't know anyone who's tried it before. Imagine the stories of Cherry, the god whisperer!"

"You don't whisper well, but I guess if anyone can do it, it's you."

She did what she set out to do, sailing, walking, driving far and wide. I'd watch her through the eyes of the rats, crows, and flies. She'd visit places for weeks, doing odd jobs for money and spending her free time in the temples. Not many gods showed themselves to her, yet in a couple years she'd explored the world, so she'd return to them. Whenever she was near home, she'd stop by. She'd visit her father, and me. We'd talk of things that changed, and what hadn't. She'd bring gifts of trinkets she found, and food she'd forgotten to eat. I'd ask how long it'd been for her, and who'd she met. She would tell the most fantastical stories. The goddess of nature taught her to sing like birds, harvest gifted her spices and seeds to trade, water helped her cross oceans, and fire became her sister.

"You truly are special," I told Cherry on one of her visits, "No one else could befriend so many deities. You have a draw to you, I think."

"They're more acquaintances, but it's still amazing. I proved you wrong, didn't I?"

"You did, you did."

She continued her quest, tales of her odd ability spreading across the lands. She included stories of me when she talked to strangers, leading to an increase in visitors. I'd become a god of worries, the rot of the mind, as well as Cherry's patron. I'd never had so much food, and it was because people wanted someone to hear them, and I'd listen. Yet, of all my followers, Cherry stayed my favorite. I lost count of time, however as my following grew, so did Cherry's age. One day she returned, and didn't go back to her adventures.

"My body is getting too old, so it's time to stay here."

"How many years do you have left?"

"Forty, thirty maybe."

"What will you do then?"

"Talk to you a lot, just like old times," she leaned back, "maybe I'll write a book on my adventures! An odyssey!"

"It'd become a classic."

She never ended up doing that, instead finding comfort in one of those boring jobs. She found friends in her human species, something she'd avoided looking for. Her age granted wisdom, but it'd not calmed her spirit, and she'd still come to me with wonderful stories.

"When I die, I'll continue meeting every god," she told me once, as we watched the sunrise from gaps in the roof. "I'll talk to all the ones in the afterlife, then I'll escape and continue here. I have eternity to figure it out!"

"You always sound like a folk hero of old."

"I like the idea of that."

We went quiet for a bit, listening to nature's children wake up.

"When I die, will my body still rot, or am I excluded?"

"If I don't get to you, the worms and time will take care of it."

"I want to be buried in the dirt near this temple. No coffin, so the underground animals have easy food, but my bones will always be here."

She got older and greyer. She ended up as a priest, to all the minor gods. Cherry funded the fixing of our temples, and brought more followers then we'd dream. While I stayed the same, she grew. Her bones and brain decayed out of my control. We'd lay together for hours, hearing whispers of other gods visiting. Her memory left her, me and her father reminding her. I'd try my best to concentrate on each individual second, to spend as much time as possible together.

Then death, the reaper, they came. They peered into the room, a pupil taking up a whole window, and only able to fit a couple fingers through the door. Cherry sat on my shoulder, fast asleep, unaware.

"It is her time," they said, reaching to grab her. I recoiled, turning away from them and raising a hand to block Cherry from their sight,

"Just a little longer, please."

"The only blessing I can give her is a peaceful death, with no pain." They reached again, gathering her soul. "You and I, we are basically siblings, cut from the same cloth. I'll take good care of her, and you'll see her again." Then they left with her soul, I left with her breathless body.

The funeral was extravagant. She truly was a modern folk hero, a celebrity. After she was buried, I went back to sleep. I'd occasionally wake, to hear prayer or accept offerings, but then I slept again. There was nothing to do but be worshiped and sleep. Years, decades, maybe centuries or millennia passed, I didn't care to check anymore. Other worshippers passed, but it didn't sting as much. Then I heard a voice.

"Obbie! Obbie, c'mon, big lug! There's surprisingly a lot of rot in the afterlife, so I tried to bring as much as I could."

My voice had become a whimper in my silence, "Cherry?"

"Duh, who else!"

I opened my eyes and stood, seeing a young Cherry before me. Long, curly red hair, freckled skin, almost black eyes, and bright smile.

"How are you here?"

"Got all chummy with death! They let me walk on out!"

"Of course they did, of course." I took a deep breath, "I missed you."

"Aw, I missed you too," she climbed onto the altar, "what d'ya wanna do?"

"I think listening to you talk would be enough. What new tales do you have?"

"A lot, get comfy, we'll be here awhile."

And so we talked.