Summary:
A scarved shaman and a cloaked soothsayer set off to wake the Lost Gods. They recruit a hatted sorcerer along the way. "It's written in the stars," Fuuta assures him sweetly, blinking huge hazy eyes like the adorable manipulative little charmer he was. Yuni nods, occupied with breathing a curl of incense smoke to reach for the sky. Fran blinks. "Are you two high?" [crack, but also serious?] [featuring vague!fuuta, evasive!yuni, and snarky!fran] [drabble-ish] [queerplatonic!fuuta/yuni/fran, kinda]
Disclaimer:
I don't own KHR! or the cover art.
*stars know not of frosty nights and empty stomachs; stars always have fire*
(-until they're dead-)
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A child is born on a starless night.
In a cold alleyway, of a cold city.
To a woman with an emptied stomach and a heart both empty and cold.
There is no fire in her eyes.
Or in any of her.
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~smoke chokes and it smothers, because it is bitter; smoke never has fire~
(-just the jealous memory of it-)
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A child is born by a blazing hearth.
In a warm house, of a wealthy estate.
To a woman with lungs smothered in prophecy and a heart choked by bitterness.
She looks away from the infant, jealous of it's ignorance.
All of her fire leaks from her eyes.
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/shade is given, or it is snide, or it is hollow, or any of a thousand things; shade sometimes has fire/
(-it doesn't need it-)
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A child is born under a roof.
In a shadowed meadow, of a peaceful village.
To a woman with a snide tongue and a heart long since hollowed.
A man by her side has the fire she lacks, and gives her a paradise for the child.
The child, in turn, is given to the old woman by the man's side.
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