A different kind of etiquette

In the desolate embrace of the Arctic landscape, Sol & Khonsu lay huddled against the relentless cold. The night sky, an endless dome of twinkling stars, watched over them indifferently. Their two heads rested side by side on the frost-covered ground.

Khonsu broke the silence, his voice a quiet beacon in the dark. "You okay? You've hardly spoken a word since..." He let the sentence trail off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Since their mother was killed.

Sol shifted slightly, his eyes reflecting the sadness within. "I don't know what to do or what to say. I’m scared of making a mistake, of provoking her... wrath."

Khonsu, his voice a soft murmur against the howling wind, spoke again. "Remember when we were young, playing in the meadows of Cinere? We had to be so careful, always mindful of father's strict rules."

Sol's ears flickered as memories surfaced. "We were never free, even then. Always hiding, always pretending." His voice was tinged with bitterness, a stark contrast to Khonsu's more measured tone.

"But we learned, didn't we? How to be one when we needed to be, even while yearning to be two." Khonsu mused, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "Those skills we learned, they are our armor now. Our camouflage. You can start by speaking only when spoken to," Khonsu reminded his brother gently, his fuchsia eyes softening as he angled his head to meet Sol's gaze. "Respond with 'Yes, mistress. No, mistress.' Keep it simple and direct."

Sol frowned, a look of distaste crossing his features. "Those words taste like ash on my tongue." His nostrils flared, tongue lashing out to swipe against his lips. Kho blinked, surprised by the reference from his agnostic brother's maw. To be an ash-eater was one of the gravest sins of their church - something Sol claimed no longer to care about.

Khonsu’s gaze remained steady. "You’ll get used to it. It’s about survival, not sincerity."

Sol sighed, the sound echoing off the cold earthen walls of the makeshift den. "I never got used to being Janus, to being silenced. I don't want to lose myself again."

"We're not losing ourselves; we’re adapting." Khonsu countered. "Yarra isn't trying to erase our identities. She just wants control." Sol's ears twitched in irritation. "Control that makes us her obedient pets."

"We will be what she wants us to be, for now. For our mother." Khonsu said, a note of resolve in his voice.

His gaze shifted to the horizon, where the faintest light heralded the approach of dawn.

Sol lay quietly, contemplating Khonsu's words. For their mother. It was his fault that her soul was trapped to begin with. His stupid, naive innocence that had given Yarra her ammunition. The sky above slowly began to lighten, the stars fading as the first hints of dawn crept across the landscape. The beauty of the moment was lost to the twins, whoever; overshadowed by the weight of their circumstances.

As the light grew, it cast long shadows across the snow, painting their world in a palette of grays and blues. The cold was a constant companion, but it was the uncertainty that gnawed at them.

Sol broke the silence. "She scares me, Kho." The childlike note of innocence in his brother's voice was heartbreaking; it brought Khonsu back to the days of their youth, when Sol would whisper into his brother's ear to avoid their father's fiery wrath.

"I’ll protect you as best I can. Just remember the rules," Khonsu reassured him. "And another thing - avoid making eye contact. It's seen as a challenge, a sign of defiance."

Sol did not respond for a long moment. Lost in thought, teetering upon the edge of acceptance and defiance. Finally, he nodded, absorbing this new rule with great reluctance. "Okay." Khonsu could feel his brother's hesitance, and while he wished he could let up, he knew these lessons were of the utmost importance. "And never interrupt. Wait for your turn to speak. It shows respect, or at least, the appearance of it." He added.

"I’ll try."

"We'll be sure to keep ourselves well groomed, as best as we can. Our appearance matters. How we appear will reflect upon her." Khonsu instructed, his tone matter-of-fact. "That also means we must consider our posture and movements. Submissive, but not cowering. Confident, but not challenging." He demonstrated with a slight lowering of his head.

Sol mimicked the gesture, trying to find the balance, then sighed. "It's like walking on a razor's edge."

"Yes. It’s a delicate balance, but we’ll manage," Khonsu said, feigned confidence threading through his words. "And most importantly, we support each other. We’re in this together."

Their conversation, a mixture of strategy and shared fears, continued into the night. Each rule, each piece of advice, was a step towards understanding how to navigate their complex new world. They were tools for survival, a way to maintain their dignity and spirit in the face of adversity.


Sol & Khonsu