azrael
He was tired from the travel, tired – and yet alive. In the mountains, they climbed toward the heavens, drawn forth by the promise of Caligo’s bleeding sky. It had been foretold, of course. This was her gift to Denocte, her unveiling after the long battles they’d fought for freedom. There was a festival to celebrate summer, yes… but the true festival was not one of baubles and worldly things, but a testament to the goddess and her striking display in the cosmos.
There is a poetic sort of peace to the night, as he lays upon his back, mane splayed around him like an inky halo. It is a vulnerable position, but with the People around him, Azrael has nothing to fear. Like many, he watched for the signs. He watched as the moon rose slowly into the summer sky, shivering as Day had turned to Dusk. Dusk to Night. The sky had turned from shades of gold, to pink, to black. And Azrael feels a sense of anticipation as he waited for the meteors to come, with bated breath.
As he waited, the magician mused at all which had come to pass. This was the right decision, to come to Denocte, to live among men. Not everyone agreed, of course… but Azrael had always considered himself something of a progressive Star. Others lived and died by the thick tomes of the past, weeping as they had left their homelands, stealing away what trinkets they could, to carry on the traditions of the People. While he could appreciate such things, Azrael could not let the past hold him from what would come to pass now. He had to hope that this new life could be an adventure instead of a curse. He had to hold that courage, and he hadn’t been disappointed.
While he reminisced at all which had come to pass, the sky began to explode in a brilliant display. The stars blinked slowly at first, even as some rushed in shooting comets across the great black expanse of sky. It was a cloudless sort of night, the kind where each bit of stardust was visible to the naked eye, a welcome distraction from the uncertainty. He counted the constellations, naming them like a song in his mind, smiling as he remembers the stories of his youth… of great heroes granted burials in the sky, marked by the patterns which watched over the People. It was a beautiful way to be remembered, he supposed. Much moreso than the idea of being buried in the earth, deep beneath layers of sand and rock.
As his mind wandered, so too did the stars, even as one began to take an erratic pattern. Curious, Azrael mused… for stars were not supposed to fall from the heavens to the earth. There is a sound, almost inaudible if you weren’t listening for it, of the sky fire meeting the ground. This drew him from his watching, and Azrael quickly made his way upright once more, leaving his caravan in search of the fallen star, concern and curiosity battling in his chest.
It doesn’t take long to find the star trail, with little bits of burning cosmos staining a path in the summer grasses. He follows the dying star’s path, the scorched land still warm even as the night air rushed to steal away the heat, even as his widened in the molten light it emitted. Sadness crept over him, as he whispered a quiet prayer to for the death of the vibrant light, stepping closer like a moth to the flame, unable to resist the pull of the glow even as it enveloped him in Caligo’s burning fire. Where it should have burned, instead it kissed his curves, clinging to his frame as if Azrael himself was the star’s only salvation. Stardust settled over him, cooling and adhering to the iridescence of his back, even as the star’s core blinked it’s final breath before fading out, leaving only the glow of Azrael himself in the darkness.
@Random Events
