Once god of the sky, divine protector of kings, defender of rightful rule, and participant in what may be history's longest-running family dispute. Horus remembers ancient Egypt perfectly well, although he'll cheerfully point out that the surviving mythology is a mixture of things that actually happened, things priests decided must have happened, and stories that became considerably more exciting in the retelling. Asking him which category the business with Set falls into is a reliable way to get him to change the subject.

Unlike his old colleague Anubis, Horus didn't have a profession that survived the ancient world. People kept dying, so Anubis remained useful. Pharaohs, unfortunately for Horus, eventually went out of fashion. When the temples closed and Egypt changed around him, Horus found himself facing something he'd never really experienced before: having absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do next.

So he went looking.

Horus has spent the intervening millennia wandering through civilizations, periodically settling somewhere until curiosity pulls him elsewhere. He's watched empires appear and disappear, cities reinvent themselves, and humanity repeatedly produce some fascinating new thing just as he thinks he's seen everything. He's especially fond of technology, and human flight remains one of his favorite developments. The first time somebody took the ancient god of the sky aboard an airplane was, by his account, fantastic. Even with the weight of millenia on him, Horus can still become embarrassingly enthusiastic about a window seat.

He's friendly, curious, restless, and just a little too inclined to take charge. Thousands of years without a throne have not entirely erased the part of Horus that assumes confused people are waiting for someone to organize them. He doesn't demand obedience or expect anyone to bow anymore, but leave four people arguing about what to do and he'll have a plan, assignments, and a departure time before anyone realizes they've elected him.

Anubis is one of the few constants in his extraordinarily long life. They can go decades or even centuries without seeing each other, then resume their friendship as though they last spoke yesterday. Anubis remembers when Horus expected royal treatment. Horus remembers when Anubis was genuinely intimidating. Neither allows the other to cultivate too much dignity about it.

For all the history attached to his name, Horus doesn't spend much time looking backward. Ancient Egypt already happened. He's much more interested in where humanity is going to go tomorrow.

Preferably somewhere he hasn't been yet.