When the sun goes down, Denocte comes alive. It had always been so, yet on nights like tonight, where the festival roars around them, it seemed to ring even more true. Bonfires leapt at the black sky, filling the air with ash and light. Music sounded up and down the beach, in pockets of groups who gathered around to hear. Paper lanterns launched into the night sky, even as shell-seekers combed the surf for bits and baubles which had washed ashore now with low-tide. And Azrael comes alive with it all, his stars shining bright in the clarion sky, beaming down as Caligo would, on the celebration of summer.
He paints a splendid picture in the darkness, ribbons of light rising from his body, meeting the smoke-filled air with a peculiar sort of haze. A dreamcatcher staff rests against his shoulder, twined into a leather harness which holds it, twinkling as the light hits bits of silver filament which weave throughout its webbing. Upon his chest, an obelisk glows brightly, throwing a halo of light against him which bobbed with his movement – for the stallion seemed to move with purpose, staring at the sky as if expecting something to happen, face turned to the heavens as if vying to see what lie beyond their realm of understanding.
Noctua rests near him, her matching turquoise eyes blinking at the gathering, feathers ruffling in the seabreezes as she watches the spectacle. The barn owl voice coos softly to Maeve and her hawk, making note of them with casual interest before watching the shed-star once more. Only when Azrael’s gasp of delight beckons her closer does she perk up with curiosity, following his gaze in time to see a second star shoot across the diamond sky, and shivering from the wonder of it.
Wow! Rory did you see that? I wonder what those were? The girl’s words are edged with excitement, enough so for the shed-star to turn to greet her. And as he does, he stares at a child who looks strikingly similar to her mother, offering her a knowing smile . “You must be Maeve.” He remembers the name from the island, when Morrighan searched for the girl among the emptiness and shadows. “I’m Azrael, and this is Noctua.” The owl steps closer, into the light of the bonfire, cooing softly and butting her feathered head against the stallion in an affectionate gesture.
“Isn’t it something?” He gestures back to the sky. “You should make a wish… for magic is always stronger during meteor storms such as this. Just wait… and watch. It’s just getting started.” As if on cue, three more lights flash across the sky, dancing with streams of cosmic dust in their wake. Many are oblivious to it, dancing and drinking without a mind to the world around them, but the shed-star watches intently, tuning out the incessant noise as he years for more, flicking a glance back at Maeve to see her reaction to the cosmic event.
@Maeve
