Instead of a masculine gender, a feminine gender, and a gender that is neither or both, I decided that the set of genders I’d come up with would be based on roles that specific Bekkazik and Anmaeoni, and later, Abguzik and Ionorni gods play in their mythologies.
They’d told him that death smells savory in the worst kind of way; bitter like ash and powerfully pungent. He couldn’t have known for sure, though. All his life, his elders had warned him not to go down the eastern side of the valley, so he didn’t. For a time, the only death he’d ever seen was that of the flowers his mother tended to let wither in plain view of the gods and everyone.
In my memory, there is a young noble constantly looking over her shoulder. She has not eaten in two days. If I focus hard enough, I can feel the blisters on her feet as she runs as swiftly as her legs will carry her, keeping pace with her thundering heart even after the point when those legs should have given out.
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