Sirius is no stranger to walking the night alone. The darkness has never bothered him, not when so much of his life has been spent embraced by it. It’s become a nightly habit of his, to break away from the light and the noise of the Court. To leave the brightness of the bonfires behind in search of a dark sky.
In truth it was not the darkness he looked for - it was the stars.
They shine down on him now, a million and one witnesses as he crosses the Sideralis. The bright-white-moon-that-is-full is drowning some of them out, bathing the prairie grasses in a silver so profound it almost hurts to look at, hiding the distant galaxies from him.
But Sirius has never needed to see the stars to know that they are there. He fills in the gaps in the night sky with his imagination, painting in all of the missing stars from memory.
He’s been to the festival-maze-game before, but tonight it’s different. The corn is singing to him when he walks the beaten pathway in a tone he has not heard before, and when he looks closely he realizes that it’s not corn at all, not anymore. In its place is something cold and firm and golden. And Sirius has no words to explain what has happened here, how one thing could so easily become another, or what sort of magic has ever wrought such a change. But he continues to follow the trail weaving between the tall stemmed plants, as if there’s a part of him that already knows there are more changes to be found here tonight.
The stars are starting to laugh when the ground turns to rubies beneath his hooves, and Sirius wonders if they know what happened here, if they had been witnesses to the transformation. Would they tell him, if he asked? He thinks they might, but some things he wants to learn for himself.
And so he walks. While the stars laugh overhead and the rubies crunch underhoof, he walks, following the path that twists and turns and sometimes ends.
And when he sees the mare standing in the middle of it all, all quicksilver and ivory, he thinks for a moment that she, too, must be a part of the magic thrumming in the soil.
“Hello?”
His voice is quiet, nearly a whisper. He takes another step closer, diamonds clinking against his hooves.
“Sirius am I. You are who?”
hearts are breaking
wars are raging on
you’ve got me nervous
i’m at the end of my rope
hey, man, we can’t all be like you
i wish we were all rose-colored too
my rose-colored boy
@morrighan ! notes
