After much pondering I decided to post this one here as well (it was originally posted in AO3) because I really do like it a lot. It's been a long time since I last posted anything here oh gosh. . . Characters shouldn't be ooc seeing how this is long before the actual story but do tell if it feels too strange! There are some hints of headcanons here, I don't claim some of them to be mine, but I enjoyed them so much I adopted them. There's a saddening lack of family stuff and this idea came to me, I hope you (the reader) enjoy it!
Nights in Colony 9 were calm, the hushed murmurs of people talking, the steps of civilians and soldier alike echoing gently against the roads. The sound of waves pushing and pulling at the shores with the slow breeze that rustled foliage of the trees and fabric of tents that were left empty overnight. All these proved a lulling white noise. Soft glow of Ether lamps illuminated down on the paths and touched the silhouettes of those that remained just out of the circle of their light; the Commercial District seemed like a sleeping den compared to its lively daylight counterpart now that most stores were closed, and most of the lights inside houses of the Residential District had been turned off.
Leaning against a railing behind one of the houses in the Residential District, a man of long blond hair braided loosely stared at the distant shore, tree lines, and sky, a lit cigar held slackly between his fingers. It had been a long day in the laboratory, and it was starting to become obvious that he'd need to focus on some other projects if he wished to advance on anything.
It had been a long time since he came back with the crimson blade from the icy ruins of Ose Tower and, while interest had been expected and definitely delivered, the foreign blade had long since fallen out of the limelight. At least for those not in the Weapon Development Lab or the Military District. Dickson was in charge of studying said weapon and the blade-the Monado-had proven to be nothing short of a hard nut to crack. And with the realization of how dangerous it could be, how difficult to wield it was for many people-scientists and soldiers alike-, and the increasingly obvious fact his aid could be used with the development of some other weaponry, it proved harder to focus solely on it.
Not like he could spend all his time in the laboratory-Bionis forbid, he'd lose his mind if he had to be stuffed in that place for so long, though there was motivation to stay when there were findings, small as they could be. Regardless, his own need for movement wasn't the only factor for his inability to stay in that place.
The child who had been found in the same place as the weapon, the sole survivor he himself had rescued that day. He was one of the biggest factors. Small, sickly, and not really welcomed to the Colony as quickly as would have been hoped, he found himself having to take care of him.
It had been long months, but the boy had shown an enormous amount of improvement, and with a little nudging and help he had also found himself welcomed by a great number of people in the Colony. Difficult not to, really: the small, twiggy blond child was very young but showed to be very polite and careful-whether this was out of fear, a defensive technique, or his actual personality, it wasn't clear-but the thing that set him apart was how curious and eager he was to learn, how he'd ask things and listen for hours on end about so many different things. He was endearing, there was no denying it, though he seemed to have an easier time with adults than he did with others his age...
Thankfully, he had started forming a great friendship with the sister of one of the best soldiers in the force-and a good friend of Dickson himself-, and a red-headed and loud boy who was almost his opposite in personality. Both of them were clearly close to the kid, inviting him to play and defending them from other mean spirited children that played too roughly.
He was thankful for that. It kept the child off his back for a good portion of time and he wouldn't be alone.
His musing interrupted as he heard quiet steps and rustling coming from behind him, recognizing it instantly. He exhaled a slow stream of gray smoke before turning to look over his shoulder. With a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and feet shuffling nervously, there was the small boy, his pale hair catching the light and his eyes bright with an amalgam of exhaustion, fear, and tears.
"Oi Shulk?" Dickson greeted, turning to face him fully to show he was paying attention. Shulk sniffled and rubbed a hand again his eye, wiping away tiny tears, though he kept at least one eye on the elder, almost as if afraid he'd disappear the moment he looked away. Sighing though his nose, Dickson took a last sip of the cigar and dropped it on the ground, grinding it with his heel and exhaling again, before motioning the child to come closer.
Shulk quickly answered to the beckoning, muted and fast steps carrying him like a tiny ghost towards the other and he held his arms up, letting Dickson pick him up and sit him on the sturdy metal railing, trusting both it and Dickson not to let him fall to the water below. Kicking his feet lightly, Shulk finally spoke up. "Why you out, uncle?"
"Eh, wanted some air and a smoke. It's late for you to be out of bed, kid, don't you have a play date with Fiora tomorrow?"
His words were met with silence again and he shook his head. A nightmare again, and seemly pretty bad if he was refusing to say a word about it. Deciding a different route, Dickson looked back over to a shore in the far distance and pointed at it, causing Shulk to lift his head and look in the direction. "Look over there. Did you see that flash?"
"Flash?"
"Yeah, wait a minute and... there! Saw it?" Shulk nodded eagerly, turning to stare intently at him, waiting for him to continue with an explanation. "Those are Wisps, hard to tell which specie from here, but they don't come to Colony 9 often at all. Some believe they give you luck if you catch 'em. Other say that if you catch one and whisper a wish or secret to it before letting it go, it'll deliver it to the stars."
Wide eyes looked back over the shore, a sound of amazement coming from the boy. "Do they really do that?"
"Course they do! Not always though, they are little buggers after all."
"Why do they tell the stars?"
"Those bugs are like little messengers for the stars." He nodded up at the sky, looking at the pinpricks in the distance. "They might be wise but some things need to be said or asked for if you want any kind of help from them, like luck or a sign. They don't do all the work either. Waiting passively doesn't work; you gotta act if you want things to happen."
There was a pause as the boy took in the words before he quietly peeped out. "The stars are wise?"
Dickson kept his gaze on the sky above them. "Remember how I told you once that spirits watch over us all from there? Some of them are very old, they have seen a lot, they have heard as much."
"Older than you, right?" The question was so sincere, so innocent, that it tore a bark of a laugh from him. An amused smile tugged at his lips before he replied.
"Hey, I might be old, but there are older than me!"
"... Are my mum and dad there?"
Another pause as the elder looked at the child from the corner of his eye, watching him scan the starry sky with curious eyes. "... Yeah, they're watching over you, kid. Many of those stars, even those you didn't know, send you good luck and look out for you as well." The two of them stayed in silence, eyes glued on the stars, before Dickson spoke up again. "Did you know they are also great storytellers too?"
Shulk blinked up at him, tilting his head and frowning slightly. "But they don't talk...!"
A shrug. "Eh, don't believe me? Alright, look up, you see that little twinkling white one?"
"Yes!"
"Good, now, see how those are surrounding it?"
"Are they bad? Like bullies?"
"Why don't you tell me? What do those stars tell you?"
"Umm... the little star was just doing stuff and then those started closing in on it... but then those bright yellow ones to the right told them off 'cause they shouldn't be mean to the little white one!"
"That so?" Another smile was drawn on his lips as Shulk nodded in affirmation, eyes bright and eager. "See? The stars told you a story, didn't they? There are countless more if you look at them!" Dickson chuckled as Shulk grinned and shifted again, eyes focused on the sky again, the nightmare from before forgotten as he searched and asked for more stories written in the stars, something Dickson quickly complied to.