Title: Star Keeper
Author: Xander03
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What does Dru do at night?
They were such pretty stars, each and every one of them. She'd named them; she had, even though no one believed her. "There are too many," they'd say. So little did they know. There weren't too many for her. Not too many beautiful stars.
She checked on them every night. They'd move, or play hide and seek, but they'd always come back to her. They'd tell her things. Things that had happened elsewhere in the world. And sometimes nowhere at all. She laughed when she heard their pretty voices. Voices that were only for her.
Until one night she looked up and saw that one star was not hers anymore. Someone had stolen it! Two! Three! Several of her precious stars were no longer hers. They spoke to someone else in their pretty voices and told someone else their stories.
She calmed herself and remembered that sometimes this happened. The thief was always nearby. She could find him by dawn, and then the stars would be hers again. They would talk only to her again.
This night was no different, as she walked seemingly aimlessly through the streets of whatever town they'd stopped at. (She never caught the name; she was too busy looking for the thief and her stars). She saw him then. A young man, gazing at the stars, talking to the stars, listening to the stars. He was probably naming them too.
She approached, and as usual he made some passing comment about the lovely night air and the beautiful stars (her beautiful stars). She snapped his neck before he could get any further. She left him there, gazing at her stars. She would not drink his blood. The blood of one who had taken her stars, even for a short while, was not tasty.
The stars were hers again. Hers to listen to and talk to and name. At least until the next time someone stole them.
Author: Xander03
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What does Dru do at night?
They were such pretty stars, each and every one of them. She'd named them; she had, even though no one believed her. "There are too many," they'd say. So little did they know. There weren't too many for her. Not too many beautiful stars.
She checked on them every night. They'd move, or play hide and seek, but they'd always come back to her. They'd tell her things. Things that had happened elsewhere in the world. And sometimes nowhere at all. She laughed when she heard their pretty voices. Voices that were only for her.
Until one night she looked up and saw that one star was not hers anymore. Someone had stolen it! Two! Three! Several of her precious stars were no longer hers. They spoke to someone else in their pretty voices and told someone else their stories.
She calmed herself and remembered that sometimes this happened. The thief was always nearby. She could find him by dawn, and then the stars would be hers again. They would talk only to her again.
This night was no different, as she walked seemingly aimlessly through the streets of whatever town they'd stopped at. (She never caught the name; she was too busy looking for the thief and her stars). She saw him then. A young man, gazing at the stars, talking to the stars, listening to the stars. He was probably naming them too.
She approached, and as usual he made some passing comment about the lovely night air and the beautiful stars (her beautiful stars). She snapped his neck before he could get any further. She left him there, gazing at her stars. She would not drink his blood. The blood of one who had taken her stars, even for a short while, was not tasty.
The stars were hers again. Hers to listen to and talk to and name. At least until the next time someone stole them.