Ch.10: A Star-Crossed Star
I was aware of cool, light fingers against my forehead, and then nothing. I was aware of a soft, worried face leaning over mine, and it seemed like a dream in white linoleum walls and silver desks. Sometimes I saw people, drifting in and out, brushing against my existence like feathers. They came and went with a breeze, and I dared not get too close to them because I knew they wouldn't be here for too long. Sometimes I closed my eyes when they left. Sometimes I was the one the wind blew away.
And then there was the music.
Dull against my senses at first, I paid no attention to it. Then the strings seemed to call to me in dark violins and mysterious cellos, rising together as if to call me towards them. They brought me to the surface of this dark matter to breathe before I suffocated. As I broke the surface, I could hear the fluty trilling of the wind across the matter I was trapped in. I felt that if I could trust the music, I would be lifted up, high, high above this dreary planet and into the stars, forever a protector of this place. I would be imprisoned forever, unable to touch or see or advise, watching this planet decline forever and ever until it became nothing and its people escaped to other dimensions of time. And then there would be loneliness as there would be no one to watch, no one to share my views. The feeling made my very heart sag with defeat, and my mind droop like a flower past its season. But there was always something else, later. I would live through meteor showers, become a glowing, shimmering star myself as galaxies passed me by, strange beings' existences trying to take over my surface but I would bubble, and send them away. I would watch them cry out before they died as another better, more powerful being took over them. These empires rose and fell. I was doomed to watch forever.
And suddenly I had the strangest feeling I was not alone. The music, the sounds of the stars were all around me. And it also occurred to me that someone was playing this music. She seemed to be tailoring it for me, twisting in and out of melodies, trusting my memory to play the main tune as her fingers shone around glistening strings, gliding over them with a practiced ease. Sometimes it would not be harp music from a harp, but rather I would hear a whole orchestra of flutes and dark oboes, and sometimes from a violin I would hear the soulful playing of a saxophone, blending in and out with a harmonica. Sometimes I would hear a voice, singing, telling me to rise above to greater things. There was more than just watching millennia pass, she would say. You could be one of those beings, fighting for what they believe in. You could have more than slow awareness of things around you and become a passionate, fiery person who shone as brightly as a star for a moment, and winked out the next.
Wouldn't that make me less useful, though?, I asked her. I would not live for long, and my fires would wink out sooner than a century. Why should I become this when I can stay up here and watch for all eternity.
She smiled wisely and said, You would rather have half the happiness and twice the longevity? Wouldn't it be nice to want something more than your existence for once? To be part of beauty for just a moment is better than to never be part of beauty at all.
I thought about it. These little creatures, their fires burned brightly hidden, winking in and out of existence like millions of stars around the galaxy. It wouldn't hurt to try.
Why should I?, I asked her finally. She gave a soft little smile, and gave a most strange answer.
Because you are star-crossed. There is someone who needs you. You must go to him. He is more important than star-gazing. Fall from grace, and embrace mortality.
I fell, and found my place. I was back in the Victim homeworld, the music still dancing in my ears. To my side, Ernest's golden head was laid against my shoulder and his hands were sandwiching mine. The feeling was both warm and chilling; he was a Victim, and I always had a dislike for them because they were the ones who attacked the beautiful planet of Zion. And yet, I had a sort of fascination for them; if my senses told me correctly, my dream had once been true. I had been a star, burning brightly for many, many millennia, and fell to embrace this enemy, this friend, this brother, this lover who I had been living for. He was my crossed-star, and therefore the one I became mortal for. It didn't matter what he was – only that he was the sole reason I was here now, away from eternity written in the stars, away from forever watching my fires burn low with each passing century.
The singer, the wisewoman. I knew who she was. She was none other than this age-old planet, ruled by beings who sought only to beautify, to make just as picturesque as their planet with their vibrant hues of green and blue. They were cool, relaxing beings, and they didn't mean anything. They were just like us – having goals but never getting there. This much Hestia had told me. It was so strange, I thought, how we could live a life that was never satisfied.
I dared not touch Ernest. He might awaken if I did. Of course, he might awaken if I didn't and my thoughts grew too loud, so I hushed myself and softened my tones. I tried to picture him in another form, what he might have been if he had been a star. A colorful nebula, perhaps. Maybe the Milky Way galaxy that mankind had shot out of several thousand years ago. It looked like a swirl of white dust, trembling as its power gathered and exploded into a heaven of light. Yes, I could see Ernest like that.
No words could describe my crossed-star. He was perfect to me, even with all his imperfectalities. There was no one like him; all of his quirks stood out in my mind. If what Ernest had said was true, and my EX really was observing things, than I must have observed Ernest more than any other thing in my life. A person couldn't really say our bonds – they were unseeable, untouchable, and past physical strength. It wasn't a matter of devotion, either – if one of us suddenly turned evil and started destroying everything, the other would not try to KILL the new entity inside of him, but rather fight to get the old personality back. Usually humans are unlike that. People are naturally out for their own good – they fight, they win, and the victory money is theirs. Perhaps it would be said that I would be the same, towards everyone if desperation brought me that far. Except Ernest. He would always be my crossed-star.
To my side he stirred a little, and made an innocent murmur of "Garu, it's time to wake up" and shifted his hand to circle around my waist. Trembling I lifted my hand and ran a few golden threads through them, and felt them slide smoothly under my grasp. Angel could not describe him as he was now. He was an angel too, at least to me, even when we were back at G.O.A., rookie candidates, yearning to be the best of the best.
Ernest was right, I guess: we really have met somewhere before. There was one thing wrong with that theory, though – it has been more than 500 years. It was longer. It was that soul-feeling that you got when you heard something philosophical and true and it rooted you to the spot because it rang out with such simple honesty. That was the way my dream was; truthful, soul-wrenchingly true, and seemed especially to me.
I gave a little smile. I liked that advice, to stick by Ernest for as long as I could. As if he could feel my thoughts were aimed towards him, Ernest turned and gave me a weary look. "Oh, you're awake", he said, half-asleep. "I thought you were going to sleep until the day was over or something."
My smile grew a little wider. "No, it's too comfortable to be sleeping."
"You sound like you're my lover or something", Ernest counteracted. I snorted.
"I am your lover, if you've forgotten", and I gave him the best superior look I could muster at the moment. Ernest's head fell back down on my shoulder, tired from being held up for so long, but he gave a soft whimper when I ran a hand through his hair.
It doesn't matter what you become physically to me, Ernest. We understand each other like no one else does. Some people don't find their crossed-star until many, many years later. But I'm lucky, I guess, to have mine so young. Now if I could only live to enjoy it…
As I drifted off, I was only aware of warmth by my side, and the feeling of a shared fire between us.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
This chapter was completely sap, wasn't it? It was almost romantic- ish, but not really...at least that's how I saw it. I think it was the wording I used: "lover". Actually, I might write a fic on this idea later, after I've finished this fic. I don't know, though. I might try and finished "The Gate" first; don't want more projects than I already get in school. But this was SAP. The next chapter is better, I promise. I think. This chapter is only here because I think Ernest and Garu needed a little more down time, while frantic little Erts back home is getting his act together and the stage set.
Andrea Weiling
I was aware of cool, light fingers against my forehead, and then nothing. I was aware of a soft, worried face leaning over mine, and it seemed like a dream in white linoleum walls and silver desks. Sometimes I saw people, drifting in and out, brushing against my existence like feathers. They came and went with a breeze, and I dared not get too close to them because I knew they wouldn't be here for too long. Sometimes I closed my eyes when they left. Sometimes I was the one the wind blew away.
And then there was the music.
Dull against my senses at first, I paid no attention to it. Then the strings seemed to call to me in dark violins and mysterious cellos, rising together as if to call me towards them. They brought me to the surface of this dark matter to breathe before I suffocated. As I broke the surface, I could hear the fluty trilling of the wind across the matter I was trapped in. I felt that if I could trust the music, I would be lifted up, high, high above this dreary planet and into the stars, forever a protector of this place. I would be imprisoned forever, unable to touch or see or advise, watching this planet decline forever and ever until it became nothing and its people escaped to other dimensions of time. And then there would be loneliness as there would be no one to watch, no one to share my views. The feeling made my very heart sag with defeat, and my mind droop like a flower past its season. But there was always something else, later. I would live through meteor showers, become a glowing, shimmering star myself as galaxies passed me by, strange beings' existences trying to take over my surface but I would bubble, and send them away. I would watch them cry out before they died as another better, more powerful being took over them. These empires rose and fell. I was doomed to watch forever.
And suddenly I had the strangest feeling I was not alone. The music, the sounds of the stars were all around me. And it also occurred to me that someone was playing this music. She seemed to be tailoring it for me, twisting in and out of melodies, trusting my memory to play the main tune as her fingers shone around glistening strings, gliding over them with a practiced ease. Sometimes it would not be harp music from a harp, but rather I would hear a whole orchestra of flutes and dark oboes, and sometimes from a violin I would hear the soulful playing of a saxophone, blending in and out with a harmonica. Sometimes I would hear a voice, singing, telling me to rise above to greater things. There was more than just watching millennia pass, she would say. You could be one of those beings, fighting for what they believe in. You could have more than slow awareness of things around you and become a passionate, fiery person who shone as brightly as a star for a moment, and winked out the next.
Wouldn't that make me less useful, though?, I asked her. I would not live for long, and my fires would wink out sooner than a century. Why should I become this when I can stay up here and watch for all eternity.
She smiled wisely and said, You would rather have half the happiness and twice the longevity? Wouldn't it be nice to want something more than your existence for once? To be part of beauty for just a moment is better than to never be part of beauty at all.
I thought about it. These little creatures, their fires burned brightly hidden, winking in and out of existence like millions of stars around the galaxy. It wouldn't hurt to try.
Why should I?, I asked her finally. She gave a soft little smile, and gave a most strange answer.
Because you are star-crossed. There is someone who needs you. You must go to him. He is more important than star-gazing. Fall from grace, and embrace mortality.
I fell, and found my place. I was back in the Victim homeworld, the music still dancing in my ears. To my side, Ernest's golden head was laid against my shoulder and his hands were sandwiching mine. The feeling was both warm and chilling; he was a Victim, and I always had a dislike for them because they were the ones who attacked the beautiful planet of Zion. And yet, I had a sort of fascination for them; if my senses told me correctly, my dream had once been true. I had been a star, burning brightly for many, many millennia, and fell to embrace this enemy, this friend, this brother, this lover who I had been living for. He was my crossed-star, and therefore the one I became mortal for. It didn't matter what he was – only that he was the sole reason I was here now, away from eternity written in the stars, away from forever watching my fires burn low with each passing century.
The singer, the wisewoman. I knew who she was. She was none other than this age-old planet, ruled by beings who sought only to beautify, to make just as picturesque as their planet with their vibrant hues of green and blue. They were cool, relaxing beings, and they didn't mean anything. They were just like us – having goals but never getting there. This much Hestia had told me. It was so strange, I thought, how we could live a life that was never satisfied.
I dared not touch Ernest. He might awaken if I did. Of course, he might awaken if I didn't and my thoughts grew too loud, so I hushed myself and softened my tones. I tried to picture him in another form, what he might have been if he had been a star. A colorful nebula, perhaps. Maybe the Milky Way galaxy that mankind had shot out of several thousand years ago. It looked like a swirl of white dust, trembling as its power gathered and exploded into a heaven of light. Yes, I could see Ernest like that.
No words could describe my crossed-star. He was perfect to me, even with all his imperfectalities. There was no one like him; all of his quirks stood out in my mind. If what Ernest had said was true, and my EX really was observing things, than I must have observed Ernest more than any other thing in my life. A person couldn't really say our bonds – they were unseeable, untouchable, and past physical strength. It wasn't a matter of devotion, either – if one of us suddenly turned evil and started destroying everything, the other would not try to KILL the new entity inside of him, but rather fight to get the old personality back. Usually humans are unlike that. People are naturally out for their own good – they fight, they win, and the victory money is theirs. Perhaps it would be said that I would be the same, towards everyone if desperation brought me that far. Except Ernest. He would always be my crossed-star.
To my side he stirred a little, and made an innocent murmur of "Garu, it's time to wake up" and shifted his hand to circle around my waist. Trembling I lifted my hand and ran a few golden threads through them, and felt them slide smoothly under my grasp. Angel could not describe him as he was now. He was an angel too, at least to me, even when we were back at G.O.A., rookie candidates, yearning to be the best of the best.
Ernest was right, I guess: we really have met somewhere before. There was one thing wrong with that theory, though – it has been more than 500 years. It was longer. It was that soul-feeling that you got when you heard something philosophical and true and it rooted you to the spot because it rang out with such simple honesty. That was the way my dream was; truthful, soul-wrenchingly true, and seemed especially to me.
I gave a little smile. I liked that advice, to stick by Ernest for as long as I could. As if he could feel my thoughts were aimed towards him, Ernest turned and gave me a weary look. "Oh, you're awake", he said, half-asleep. "I thought you were going to sleep until the day was over or something."
My smile grew a little wider. "No, it's too comfortable to be sleeping."
"You sound like you're my lover or something", Ernest counteracted. I snorted.
"I am your lover, if you've forgotten", and I gave him the best superior look I could muster at the moment. Ernest's head fell back down on my shoulder, tired from being held up for so long, but he gave a soft whimper when I ran a hand through his hair.
It doesn't matter what you become physically to me, Ernest. We understand each other like no one else does. Some people don't find their crossed-star until many, many years later. But I'm lucky, I guess, to have mine so young. Now if I could only live to enjoy it…
As I drifted off, I was only aware of warmth by my side, and the feeling of a shared fire between us.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
This chapter was completely sap, wasn't it? It was almost romantic- ish, but not really...at least that's how I saw it. I think it was the wording I used: "lover". Actually, I might write a fic on this idea later, after I've finished this fic. I don't know, though. I might try and finished "The Gate" first; don't want more projects than I already get in school. But this was SAP. The next chapter is better, I promise. I think. This chapter is only here because I think Ernest and Garu needed a little more down time, while frantic little Erts back home is getting his act together and the stage set.
Andrea Weiling