Prelude ~ Winged children
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"Can't we just try this later on?"
Fjäril was peering out from behind a pillar a few paces away, her eyes filled with anxiety. Dova, her closest friend - standing out in the open and perilously in hearing range of the guard manning the staircase they were trying to sneak up - had her hands on her hips, determination rolling off her in waves.
"There might not be a later on, you know!"
"Still," Fjäril argued "wouldn't it be a better idea to wait for a while? It's not even sunset yet!"
Dova looked too cunning for her own good. Again.
"That may be the case, but but wouldn't the higher-ups expect us to try when it's difficult to see us?"
"Well...you have a point..." Fjäril admitted. In all honesty, she wanted to get up that staircase just as much as Dova did.
"See? Besides..." Dova trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her mood seemed dampened as if she'd remembered something she didn't want to think about at that moment in time.
"That bird isn't going to be quiet for much longer, is he?"
Both girls turned to stare at something nestled in a clump of juniper bushes poking out from behind a corner. It was a cage, woven together by their small hands using reeds pulled from the outskirts of their home. Inside the cage was a bird with a somewhat similar appearance to a turtle dove, except for the turquoise and grey plumage that exploded around its neck like a mane.
The bird belonged to a very old Celestrian named Sirius. Despite the insistence from the man himself that his name was that of the star's he'd been born from, there was no denying really that his attitude was reflected in his name a little too much for it to be called coincidental.
If it was even possible, his pet bird was even grumpier than he was. It perched on the branch of a stone tree inside the Great Hall, squawking and puffing its preposterously feathery chest out at people. It was fat, too, and couldn't fly further than the library.
The girls didn't like Sirius - or his bird. So who else would have been better to get revenge upon?
In order to get up the staircase, the girls had devised a plan, taking extra care to allow their grumpy acquaintance and his infernal budgie less of an enjoyable time.
The bird would provide them with a way of distracting the guard, but there was no guarantee that it would do what they wanted it to do. Dova hadn't exactly been gentle when she'd thrown a sack over the cawing menace while the higher-ups had talked among themselves.
At present, the bird was lightly dozing - recovering from the traumatic experience inside the sack.
"Now's our chance, Fjäril!" Dova said as quietly as she could. Fjäril nodded, letting go of the pillar and edging towards the bushes. Carefully, as not to disturb the bird further (she didn't feel as inclined to mentally scar the creature as her friend did - it was just a bird, after all), she lifted it from the juniper.
A large yellow eye opened - like a bead of sunlight floating in the sky. Fjäril hadn't taken much notice of those eyes before. Now, as she saw them up close, they seemed to glimmer with wisdom. Reflecting on it, she knew the bird was almost as old as his master. She wondered just how much it knew, and how much it had seen.
The bird cocked its head to the side, and almost instinctively Fjäril did the same. She realized that, just maybe, the bird was thinking about her too.
The plump little thing didn't seem so unbearable anymore.
One of her hands held the top of the cage while the other fiddled with the makeshift leather band they'd used as a door. Fjäril tugged the rawhide material out of its knot and let it fall to the cage floor. The bird hopped back, alarmed. Withdrawing her hand from the container, she brought her forearm forward instead, positioning it to allow the bird to step onto it. Fjäril waited and watched as it shuffled towards the temporary perch and settled upon it. She remembered a little too late that the bird's talons were sharp, and she had to purse her lips to stop from hissing in pain.
Ignoring how her skin turned white where the bird's talons dug into her arm, Fjäril set the cage down on the dusty ground and gingerly crept back towards Dova again.
"Good job," her friend told her "now all we can do is hope it flies far enough."
Indeed. The bird was still fat after all.
Both girls edged towards the staircase and the broad-shouldered guard blocking it off. He didn't turn around and spot them, so they judged it right to deploy their distraction.
Raising her arm up, Fjäril gave the bird a glance, catching its attention, before staring intently at the lower tier of the Observatory. It caught on, and after it unfurled its tiny little wings Fjäril flung her arm upwards. The bird took off - quite quickly at first - but took to bobbing erratically through the air like a balloon with plumage.
The floating, flapping mess caught the guard's attention almost immediately after appearing out of his peripheral vision. Fjäril was staring intently at him, crossing her fingers in hopes that he'd move from his post while Dova had her hands clamped over her mouth to stop from laughing.
"Is that not Sirius' bird?" they heard the guard remark.
'Who else's?' Fjäril thought.
"I don't think I can hold up for long..." Dova managed to chortle out almost silently.
"You have to!" Fjäril said through gritted teeth.
The guard was still staring at the bird, but he turned towards the juniper bushes they had hidden behind all of a sudden. Fjäril's breath hitched, and she elbowed Dova harshly to get her attention. All trace of mirth was washed from her face when she realized the guard must have heard her.
For a good minute, the girls held their breath, too anxious to make any more noise. The guard kept glancing from the bird to their hiding spot. Had he twigged it? What would happen to them if he had?
It wasn't until he spared a final glance at the bushes before striding away and murmuring to himself about retrieving the bird did they dare move or speak again. Well after he disappeared down the clay stairs leading to the lower tier, Fjäril exhaled and spun to face Dova who was fanning her face with her hand.
"Please don't let us come close to getting caught like that again."
"You have my word." Dova said, too quickly for Fjäril to be convinced.
"Seriously!" she exclaimed, shaking Dova's shoulders "who knows what would've happened if he found us!?"
Dova let out a melodramatic sigh. "You worry far too much. I wouldn't let us get caught."
"Because that was really convincing, wasn't it? Honestly!" Fjäril threw her arms up in frustration.
"Let's go - the highest tier isn't going to come to us!"
_
To put it lightly, the staircase was high. Dizzyingly high, in fact - high enough to make Fjäril crane her neck up to see the rectangle of light at the top of it. Each step rose to her knee, and they weren't very soft, either.
"Of course they aren't soft, silly!" Dova told her, already a quarter of the way up the stairs "it's limestone!"
"It's impossible to climb, as well!" Fjäril called up to her, thin legs already aching. Another six steps was all she could take, and she flopped forwards, hands clinging to the step in front of her.
"No. I can't do it. Too high."
"Have some resilience, Fjäril!" Dova sang, skipping back down to help her with ease.
"Come on." She knelt in front of Fjäril, gesturing for her to climb onto her back. Fjäril looked up, then rose and hooked her arms around Dova's neck, being careful to avoid hurting her outstretched wings.
Dova piggybacked her three quarters of the way up, albeit while complaining all the way.
"Thanks Dova..." Fjäril murmured, straightening her pleated clothes. Dova just threw her a knowing look.
"Your legs are like pieces of straw." she deadpanned.
'I know!" Fjäril laughed, before they continued upwards.
_
They managed to pass the circular sanctuary housing a group of Celestrian with ease, all of whom were too busy tending to the waters fueling the Observatory's crowning feature to be bothered by anything else around them - such as a pair of curious, unsupervised Celestrians poking around where they shouldn't have been.
"Watching water constantly. It must be thrilling." Dova commented sarcastically.
After climbing more stairs - naturally the Observatory made things very accessible and convenient, Dova had expressed again - the girls reached the top tier.
"Wow...it's like a massive pond up here..." Dova said in awe, shielding her eyes and peering at the never-ending blue circling them. Fjäril said nothing, too busy staring at something else.
Yggdrasil - the World Tree.
She stood silent and broad atop a raised, grassy hillock above them. Branches like arms seemed to embrace the sky, and touch the tips of the horizon. Her leaves rustled only slightly, as if they were disturbed by Her breath.
She was alive - Fjäril knew - but in a different way to all living things. She was breathtakingly, beautifully alive, and despite not possessing the mouth or hands or body of a Celestrian or a Mortal, she seemed to live so wholeheartedly without needing the body of a human to do so. More than the sky, the clouds and the sun around her, Fjäril saw Her as so much in comparison.
She didn't even feel Dova tapping her shoulder until she called her name.
"Fjäril?"
"Oh, um, yes?" She replied, still not paying full attention.
She heard Dova talking about hiding because by now there would be Celestrians intent on offering benevolessence to the Tree, but Fjäril was still transfixed by Yggdrasil, unable to tear her eyes from Her - even when Dova took hold of her wrist and pulled her towards a clump of windblown saplings.
"Are you half asleep or something?" Dova asked angrily, flicking Fjäril's forehead.
She flinched, rubbing where her friend's finger had hit.
"No. It's just..."
Trailing off, Fjäril thought about how she could explain it - a form of life as unique as that. It turned out she couldn't, so she dismissed the idea of trying to put it into words.
"Never mind."
_
"Still dreaming about Yggdrasil?"
Fjäril lifted her head from her knees.
"Partly, I guess."
Behind her, Dova let out a soft laugh. "You'll have tree roots on the brain by tomorrow."
They sat together in silence, framed by the archway at the end of the dormitory corridor belonging to the fledgling Celestrians. The night sky was clear, sprinkled with stars and nebulae in all colours imaginable. Never too bright, never too dark - the domain of the Celestrians remained at a standstill during the night.
"Should we try again sometime? Sneaking up to the top, I mean." Dova murmured.
"I'd love to. But after last time, they've probably tripled the amount of security the higher tier has." Fjäril said. If only it hadn't been him who'd caught them. Him being...
"It could have been anyone - but it had to be Aquila." Fjäril sighed after a long pause, voicing her disappointment.
"Yeah - the only way we'll ever get up their again is by becoming as Celestrian-esque as him."
"I hardly think they'd allow either of us to become one after what we did!"
"Aah..." Dova groaned, leaning back with her hands "why did it have to be him?"
"You mean the strictest, toughest, meanest Celestrian ever?" Fjäril began "because fate decided it wanted us to be lectured for half a day. Either that or it we had it coming."
"Ha ha! You've got that right!"
There was silence between them again. Fjäril began thinking again.
Their secret mission to get to Yggdrasil a few days before had been a success to an extent - Fjäril and Dova had managed to set their eyes upon the sights to be seen on the higher tier. But in the process of descending from it, things hadn't gone as planned. While the girls had bargained on nobody seeing them on the way up, they'd completely forgotten about bumping into anyone on the way down.
It just so happened that Aquila - the renowned terror and scourge of all misshapen Celestrians - had been on his way up to offer a prayer or two to the World Tree before setting out for duties. What ensued was shouting, getting whacked on the head and a very, very long talk on the importance of respecting the wishes of Celestrian elders and the dangers of wandering away from safe places, as well as the wrongness behind the theft of feathery animals and the belittling of someone trying to do their job, all done in the presence of Apus Major, leader of the Celestrians.
It hadn't been all that nice.
And yet, despite the warnings she'd received and the discipline she'd had to endure, Fjäril felt undeterred by it. Even still, the fact that she could not find a trace of guilt inside herself took her by surprise.
It had been rubbing her mind raw for hours and hours afterwards. Shouldn't she feel guilty? Not in terms of morals, but in terms of instinct?
Fjäril knew what would happen to a Celestrian if they disobeyed their superior - they couldn't, it was simple as that. If they tried to, discomfort and even pain would ensue, forcing the rebellious person to relent and be obedient again. That was one law which dictated how Celestrians lived. It could never be dismissed.
So why could she dismiss it?
Fjäril wondered if Dova could, too. So she asked.
"Did I feel any pain?" she answered "now that I think about it...no. Not a scrap of remorse, or hurt."
"Dova," Fjäril said "we've seen Celestrians in pain before, and only because they've disobeyed the smallest thing."
"Like Medea? Or Fornax? Those two had it rough - lying about a map or something."
"Exactly. We went as far as going up to the higher tier without permission, and we both felt nothing!"
Fjäril hugged her knees to her chest with one arm, doubt and anxiety whirling around inside her head.
"What's wrong with us?" she said, voice shaking "If we can do something like this, what does it make us? What'll happen to us if someone like Aquila or Apus Major finds out?"
Dova slipped her hand under her own, holding it and letting the warmth of it pass between their palms. It was almost like comfort - liquid reassurance. Trust Dova to be able to do something like that.
"Fjäril. It's simple."
"What is?" she said meekly.
"All we need to do is pretend. Pretend we can't go against our superiors. Pretend to be model Celestrians who can do almost everything right."
"But how?" Fjäril demanded, hopelessness rife within her.
Dova smiled. "We've lied before, haven't we? Little white ones nobody knows about. Although admittedly, this isn't such a small lie."
Fjäril nodded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand.
"We can lie again. It may not be a pleasant thing to do, but if we have this power I think we should use it. I don't really like the way us younger Celestrians are treated, you know," Dova confessed "it just doesn't feel right to be restricted from speaking up. Maybe it's just me who thinks this way, because I'm the adventurous type. But if I didn't have this thing we've just found, and I was like Medea or Auriga, or Fornax or Lacerta or anyone else our age, I'd want to do things freely. I don't know how they feel as individuals, but I can only imagine what I'd feel like in their boots."
Dova let that sink in, before Fjäril piped up.
"I feel the same."
"Is that all you have to say after I just poured my heart out?" Dova exclaimed.
Fjäril laughed, and kept laughing while Dova prodded her indignantly, whining about her speech.
"Sorry, sorry! I couldn't have put it better myself!" she said distractedly, before sitting up straight.
"I think I know how we could ensure ourselves further, actually."
"Oh? How?"
"We want answers, don't we? However, we can't just waltz over to Apus Major and ask pretty please for them can we, because we don't know what could happen to us. If we want to solve this, we need to gain trust and respect."
"And how do we do that?"
Fjäril's face, lit up by the starlight around them, was filled with resolution. She smiled, and told Dova her idea.
"We can try to become guardians!"
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Hello.
(I've spent seven hours writing and updating this absolute menace. I want to crawl into a hole and hibernate forever.)
So, what is this? Well - something I did while I should have been revising my Welsh oral assessment due on Monday. Because why do homework when there's fanfic to write? :D
So I've been planning this for over a year believe it or not - it's been difficult, but I've done it! Some celebratory cake would be nice but I haven't got any. Whoops.
Oh well. I've managed to do this much...the prologue.
tIt's only the prologue.
Agh.
Anyway. I know this chapter definitely has its issues like pacing, dialogue, time skips, tone shifts etc - and it hasn't turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Still, I hope you can appreciate my little self-conscious Celestrian cinnamon buns and their ridiculous antics. Oh, and I'm sorry if some sentences are worded really strangely. That would be me being very, very tired.
If there are things in here I haven't explained well (thewholethingcoughcough), either it'll be explained in time or I could PM you about anything I've forgotten to say which I should have.
(Why didn't I just explain it? xD)
Also I am ashamed of the amount of adverbs there are in this part. The road to hell is paved with adverbs. This does not bode well.
Thanks for reading!
(P.s: The weird little number 3 sign is meant to be a butterfly, in case anyone was wondering).