Eternal Promise: Fragments Of Us

SIDAPA

“BE careful!” I told Libulan.

We descended at the foot of the mountain. I wanted Libulan to see how lively the festival would be tonight. People in this village would sing, dance, and eat all together. They would all gather near the bonfire.

“Wow~” Libulan gaped in awe when he saw a few of them busy chattering using a distinctive dialect that they used to communicate to each other.

We concealed ourselves behind a very thick bush and a large tree that had huge branches and thick leaves. It was easier for me to hide but not for Libulan. His hair and skin color would stand out.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” I said in a low voice. I still had a deep voice despite my current form.

“Yes!” Libulan agreed. “Those kids over there,” he pointed a finger at a group of kids gathered in a small circle. They were a mix of boys and girls. “They’re saying something but I can’t understand it, Sidapa,” he said.

“Oh. They are just talking about random stuff like what they want to become when they grow up,” I told him.

“You can understand them? Wow,” Libulan was amazed.

“Sort of. I learned from observing them throughout the years like this,” I casually said.

“So you do enjoy the festival?” he teased.

“What? I am just here because you wanted to see it up close!” I reasoned out.

Libulan laughed at my excuse. Now that we both confessed our feelings to each other, I felt awkward for secretly staring at him. Libulan didn’t seem to change much even though the gap between us got this close. He was still his cheerful self, full of life and curiosity.

After a few moments, the villagers started gathering around the huge bonfire. Two large men took out a fully grown male goat and brought it to the direction of the mountain where they thought I lived. They tied the goat’s legs so it wouldn’t struggle when the ritual began.

“What are they going to do with the goat?” Libulan asked in worry.

“It’s part of their ritual. You don’t have to watch this,” I said to him. This part could gross him out.

“You mentioned that they do a sacrifice. How exactly do they do it?” he asked again. His eyes were really fixated on the event.

“They slit the throat of that goat. The leaders will drink some of its blood and then they will leave its body somewhere near the foot of the mountain. The next morning, they will check if the goat is still there. If they don’t see a body, that means I was pleased and accepted the sacrifice. But if it remains there, it means I was upset,” I explained.

“Do you get the goat?” Libulan asked curiously as he turned his head to my direction.

“No. In reality, only some stray predators took the dead goat. When there were none of them nearby then the goat stayed there,” I said. “If the goat is still there, these villagers will assume that some of their leaders will die in exchange for the goat. But the truth is, the leaders who drank the blood of that goat developed a disease for drinking its raw blood,” I added.

Libulan’s jaw dropped. “Why don’t you just tell them the truth?”

“If I do that, this village will fall apart. Rebellion will rise and all of them will eventually perish,” I defended. Mortals were really dependent on their beliefs that Gods always had something to do with everything that happened to them up to this day. Any form of doubt to that belief would raise a huge commotion among themselves and their unity would crumble in an instant. It was very ironic to think that it took them centuries to form a community like this one.

?They’re strong as one, but very fragile as an individual,」 I thought to myself.

“I see,” Libulan sighed.

“There are things that us, Gods, are not allowed to touch, Libulan,” I reminded the discouraged Libulan.

“Yes. I’m slowly getting it now. There’s a limit to everything,” he said with a sad expression. That was what he said, but I knew that deep inside he hoped that all of these were mere lies to make himself feel better.

“Let’s head back,” I suggested when I saw the discomfort in Libulan’s face.

“No,” he refused. “I want to see it until the end. Is that okay?” he pleaded. I couldn’t argue with him on that anymore and just went along with his request.

We waited for the ritual to finish. Libulan stayed focused but after that conversation, he went silent until it was time for us to go back.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“ARE you mad?” I asked Libulan when we arrived. He was in deep thought since earlier. He also stopped talking to me and pretended that he was immersed in the festival although I caught him stealing glances at me.

Libulan halted and abruptly faced me. “No!” he exclaimed immediately. “Sidapa, am I too weak for a God?” he suddenly asked. Why the sudden question?

“Physically, yes,” I honestly stated. It was the truth. There was no use in feeding him flattering words that weren’t meant to flatter him at all.

“I didn’t mean that,” he pouted and I laughed. That only annoyed Libulan.

“I know,” I said in between my laughs before clearing my throat. “Why do you ask?” I asked in a stern voice. He might be thinking that I was not being serious.

Libulan took a deep breath before answering. “I can’t fight, I’m too sensitive, I easily get scared, and I’m gullible,” he described, disheartened by his own weaknesses.

Libulan wasn’t much of a fighter, yes. Even that time when he mistook me for someone else, the way he held his spear didn’t show an ounce of a fighter spirit in him. He wasn’t cut for killing. For me, he was more suited to make the mortals happy. Libulan was a timid and shy but utterly honest guy. That was a cute side of him I would love to see more often.

“But that side of you shook my entire existence,” I said, and lifted my head up to the sky. “Have you ever thought about the future?” I asked logically.

“Future, huh?” Libulan uttered, and lifted his head up high, too. “Not really, but it must be something exciting and sad, too,” he said.

“Sad? Why?” I asked, and looked at Libulan’s direction.

“Because not everyone can live to see the future, especially mortals. This world is constantly changing, and everything else adapts to that change. Humans, animals, and all living things evolve overtime,” said Libulan.

He was right. I witnessed how humans changed throughout the years. They became more intelligent. They learned to make use of what was available in their environment and invented things out of it. That helped them survive. Sooner or later, this vast land would be filled with human technology that they would develop for the next coming years.

“Tonight is quite dark. Is it because you’re not there?” I suddenly said.

Libulan chuckled. “About that…” he uttered before facing me. “Did you know that there is a rumor that a God’s power weakens over the years?”

“Never heard of it,” I honestly admitted. I never really did.

“Apparently, Gods need love, too. That’s why some of us marry other fellow Gods or Goddesses,” Libulan informed. “I am the offspring of *Lihangin and *Lidagat,” he revealed. “Some say that Gods were forbidden to have children with mortals because it might bring chaos between the existence of the two species. But I had no idea that having an intimate relationship with the same sex was a taboo,” he said with a sad expression. “Sidapa… Do you really think that it’s a sin for us to love each other? Because I see nothing wrong with it.”

I tucked some of Libulan’s hair strands at the back of his left ear. It gave me a good view of his beautiful face. The delicate look in his eyes had a calming effect on me. His sweet demeanor was something I wanted to protect at all cost. His soft and silly expressions and his funny mood swings brightened up my evenings. He unlocked these desires that I never knew I had, and made me yearn for more.

“Libulan, look into my eyes,” I instructed him, and he did. He looked like he wanted to cry but he held it in. “What do you see?” I asked.

“My reflection,” he simply replied. “There is little light but I can clearly see myself in your eyes,” he added. “How is that possible?” he asked in confusion.

I faintly smiled. “You are my light, Libulan,” I told him. “When all I had was darkness, you became my light-my everything,” I said, and it brought Libulan into tears. Then I took his left hand and I gently kissed it before saying, “Libulan, will you spend your lifetime with me?”

Libulan was moved, and he smiled wholeheartedly. “Now and forever, I’m all yours. Sidapa, my love,” he proclaimed.

I carried Libulan back to the tree.

“SIDAPA, do you fear death?” Libulan asked out of the blue.

We rested underneath an old Balete tree, just a few meters from where my tree stood. Most of the time, this was where I stayed when I was not carving lifelines on my tree.

“No,” I simply replied.

The Balete tree was known to the locals as home to unearthly entities such as ghosts or hostile spirits and were believed that they resided in this tree. Because of such rumors, people were afraid to get near it or even touch it for they thought they would be cursed. But in reality, its elevated roots that were tangled against each other were a group of strangler figs that would grow from another tree. Eventually, its host tree would die and it would become the Balete. To someone who didn’t see this tree yet elsewhere, they would be terrified by its eerie appearance.

“To be honest, I’m afraid of dying,” Libulan admitted, and he simply leaned his head to my right shoulder. “I get scared when I try to imagine my own death,” he added.

“Then just stop thinking about it too much. Wouldn’t that be better?” I retorted. Libulan chuckled softly.

“You’re really straightforward,” he said.

“Is that a compliment or a sarcastic comment?” I asked with a smirk. He didn’t answer and just remained still. He even went closer to me. He must be feeling cold. “Do you feel cold?” I asked, and Libulan lifted his head up a bit to face me before he responded.

“A little,” he admitted, and I noticed that his cheeks were a bit red. Not only that, his ears and some parts of his neck down to his collar bones were also feverish in color.

“Are you okay?” I started to worry. What if he felt a little sick to the stomach after seeing the ritual?

Libulan chuckled softly. “Sidapa, you’re quite slow when it comes to some things, huh?” he retaliated and I frowned in confusion.

“Slow?” I raised one eyebrow, a little annoyed. “Why would you suddenly say that?”

“Forget it. Just let me stay like this for a little longer,” he said and sounded a bit disappointed. He coiled his frail arms around my right arm that was almost thrice the size of his own. He looked away and only then I noticed that the back of his ears became red as tomatoes.