[image description: A comic book panel has been covered by a white-bordered sticker showing the bust of a Ghenghis Khan wearing a nice black suit and saying ‘Frankly dear, I’ve ALWAYS given a dang’. Below him the printed word ‘THE’ has been covered with a piece of tape saying ‘RETRO’. Text now reads, “166, Rhett Khan ~ THE SMALL GOD OF >RETRO<ACTIVE VOICE”]
He drips with artificial charm and the idealized images of the past, dashing gentlemen and swooning ladies, towering manors and shambling monsters, phallic rockets pointed toward the sky. His paradise is a place where women exist only as rewards for men to win in glorious battle, where the “default” is a straight, white, able bodied, cisgender, vaguely but not excessively Christian man, and he’s happy there.
He doesn’t really understand why the rest of us aren’t.
Rhett is an artifact of a time gone by, and the only reason the rest of the pantheon doesn’t judge him even more harshly than we do is that he was not created to change. Nostalgia is his nature; anything else would unmake him. And even nostalgia can evolve. The “good old days” he dreams in now are science fiction to the scribes working in Victorian times, or when Beowulf was the hot new thing. One day, perhaps, he will catch up to the world we have now.
By then, we should have something so unbelievably much better that it dazzles the mind to even consider.
Now if you’ll excuse me, even being in a room with him makes me feel filthy. I’ll be in the shower if you need me.
Join Lee Moyer (Icon) and Seanan McGuire (Story) Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many small deities who manage our modern world: