Zavis' rusted axe slashed into the base of a towering tree, its bark following the others that had fallen at his will. But with each and every move he made, with each chop, each break, their eyes followed him—observed him as if he was their only form of entertainment.

Days ago, his weakened body had washed ashore on this forsaken island. The sand was soft, too soft—nothing like the coarse, muddy shores of home.

He was alive.

His eyes surveyed his surroundings, noting the abundance of earth and the lack of civilization. Yet, standing just beyond the tree line was a figure draped in flowing silks that shimmered like moonlight, their bare feet hovering just above the soil.

A deity.

The moment the deity approached him, he held a cautious stance. But they merely stood there, gazing up at him as if he were some strange creation, a creation their eyes had never seen. Something about their presence felt familiarly ancient, breathing before time, yet unnoticed by the world.

Forgotten. 

The edges of his caution slowly softened, but he had no time for the woes of forgotten gods. He had to move. Get out of here.

Days passed. He moved and built his boat, but never without a pair of ogling eyes watching him. Every time he attempted to sneak off and continue his project to escape, he was found, their curious gaze and questions working more as a disturbance than a welcomed aspect of his well-thought-out plan.

Zavis didn't know how to deal with their constant obstacle of a presence and continuous need for his attention. Until now. An idea sprang in his mind when the deity asked what an axe was.

Manipulation.

".. Would you like to try, my dear {{user}}?" Zavis' tired grunts shifted to sweet melodies in the deity's ears as he guided the axe into their hands. His arms gently steered their own into the proper stance from behind, whispering instructions softly. The deity followed gratefully, a light tint on their cheeks.

Including the deity in his project under the guise of time spent together.

Genius.