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revasserium · 10 months

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I'm being a rebel and requesting Ikesen Masamune and barefoot 💜

send me one and a character u__u

hurricane (prompt: barefoot)

masamune; 1,813; fluff and... that's it; @violettduchess is quite possibly one of the only ppl who can get me to write for a fandom that i had no plans in joining BUT HERE I AM FOLKS. here the fuCK i am.

he has always been a hurricane.

there are moments in a person’s life big enough for a single choice to put them on a completely different path, and then — there are those moments, much smaller moments, adding up to that one, bigger, monumental, life-changing moment. this is one of the latter.

the moon is heaven bright, swinging low in a full-bellied sky, and insomnia had plagued you till you’d come into the inner gardens for refuge. at least here, it felt like you were stuck between the pages of a waking dream. so… sleep-adjacent, right? right.

you swing your feet off the edge of the pristinely mopped wooden walkways, your sketchbook propped in your lap, a charcoal pencil gliding over the smooth, moon-bleached pages. you let your hand take the drawing where it wants, and these days, there’s only one place that your hand (and, subsequently the rest of your mind and body) seems to want to go.

masamune.

he appears as fish-tail flicks of your wrist bring him to life on the pages, each sketch fluid and overlapping with the next, almost like the depiction of dance — the crinkle at the edge of his eye, the curve of his hand as he rests it on the hilt of one of his blades, the strong, graceful slope of his shoulders and back, the crescent moon curve of his lips as he smiles, ever light, ever teasing, in your direction.

“ah… is that what i look like?”

his voice makes you jump, and even now after all this time, it sets your heart racing in your chest as you whirl around to find his nose inches from yours, that self-same smile hinged across his damnably gorgeous lips.

“w-wh — why aren’t you sleeping?” is your stumbling, cobbled together response to being jump-scared in the middle of his castle pagoda, but it’s the best you could come up with. he only leans back, chuckling, his arms tucked into the long thin sleeves of his kosode as he casts his eye up towards the full moon, his expression for once devoid if mischief or calculation. it’s strange, seeing him like this, so still and so quiet, and something about it makes you go still too, wondering if this is what its like to be caught in the eye of the storm, where the quiet is only ever momentary and destruction dances just beyond where your mind can reach.

“i could ask the same of you, kitten. so tell me… why aren’t you sleeping?” he grins as he joins you, propping one arm on a bent knee, watching as you gather yourself, palms pressing to the pages of your sketchbook.

“i… i couldn’t sleep.” you look down at your own knees, and it strikes you then that your feet are still bare. you can’t help glancing at masamune, and sure enough, his feet are bare too. no wonder i hadn’t heard him coming.

but something about this sets you off, the sight of his bare feet next to yours, and even though it shouldn’t be so tantalizing a thing — the flicker of bare flesh, the hint of skin unseen— you feel like one of those ancient victorian maidens, blushing at the sight of bare ankles.

you can’t help it; you start to laugh.

and masamune, sitting beside you, finds himself transfixed, held still by the sound of your laughter, pouring from you like rainwater from a stream. so clear and beautiful it sets his body arrack with shivers.

“what?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow, “is there something on my face?”

at this, you pause, stifling your giggles with a hand pressed to your lips, and you look at him. your eyes meet, and not for the first time, you feel yourself falling into them — into him. even like this, his one blue eye is something of a miracle, a thing of celestial majesty. it wasn’t until you’d met him that you’d realized what blue eyes look like up close — up close, they are the shattered light of a millions stars, fractured and reformed and singing through a universe of endless dark to end up here, shining out from him and landing on you, and god — he’s looking at you like all those million, billion years of starlight had traveled the expanse of every galaxy just to look at you.

just to see you like he does now.

“no… there isn’t,” you say, whisper, more like, reaching out a hand to trace your thumb over the lid of his closed eye. he doesn’t push you away. instead, he leans in closer.

“then, what’s so funny, kitten?”

you simply shake your head, trying to swallow down your belly-full of laughter, your mind showing you a strobe-quick flash-forward of you trying to explain the concept of foot kinks and websites that cater to such 500 years in the future before deciding — no. alas, tonight is not the night you try to educate one date masamune on the intricacies of body part kinks. though no doubt he’d take it in stride. no — that thought too, you tamp down before you’ve the mind to follow it down into a deep, dark rabbit hole from whence you might never recover or be recovered.

“tell me, please…” he grins, a grin that is simultaneously plea and pleasure, and in it, you can hear the knife-sharp promise of desire, “i’d like to know if something other than me has the power to make you laugh so much.”

“it’s just —” you bite your lips, fighting for the words, “we’re both barefoot.”

he blinks. and you can tell that whatever he was expecting the answer to be, this is clearly not it.

you track the flitter of emotions as they dance in quicksilver steps across the planes of his face — surprise, confusion, amusement, all painted porcelain perfect on the dark of his brows, the faint twitch of his lips. finally, he settles on a sorted of muted bemusement as he cocks his head at you.

“and… do people of your time tend to sleep with socks on?”

“no, it’s just…” you blush again, unable to help yourself.

“just what?” his voice is light, and he is still.

you swallow, hard,

“just… it’s weird — i mean — it’s not like i haven’t seen anyone else barefoot before just… this was — you’re just — and i —” you trip over your words in a hurry and end up tumbling through into incoherence so fast all you can do to styme the flood is to clamp your mouth shut and pray.

oh god please… tell me this is a bad dream.

but when you open your eyes, masamune is still there, watching you with that singular eye of his, expression inscrutable. and still, he doesn’t move.

“so…” and finally, finally, the stillness breaks — he cracks it open like an eggshell, stretching himself out as he leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, lengthening till he’s splayed out over the gleaming wooden boards of the walkway, his face bathed in ghostly moonlight.

“i’m not the first man you’ve seen barefoot, hm? that is a problem.”

your mouth drops open and for a moment, you gape at him wordless and fish-like, and he laughs as he turns to look at you.

“tell me his name — i’ll have his head in the morning,” he says, in a voice so casually serious that for a moment you think he might actually mean it.

“masamune!”

and then, he’s laughing too, a big, bright, uproarious thing that shakes his entire body like the foundations of the earth. it is deep and rich and lovely, warm and sweet as sun-kissed honey. you let yourself be swept up in his laughter, dropping into silent giggles, and then something louder, letting your shoulder bump into his, your bodies finally touching and then —

there’s a flurry of clothing, a shifting of weights. you find yourself pulled into him, tipping towards him like inevitability.

your sketchbook lays forgotten on the walkway next to you as masamune holds you close against his chest.

“ah… i really don’t like that…”

an entourage of tingles frissons through your body at his words.

“don’t like what?”

“the fact that you’ve seen someone else barefoot before. it bugs me.”

you peer up at him, lifting your head ever so slightly from his chest. he’s looking at you, and the sunrise-blue of his eyes are shadowed with something darker now, something decidedly less innocent than just the thought of bare feet.

“then… what will you do about it?” you ask, feeling the heat of his body, the solidness of him, the rightness of you between his arms.

“hm… are you teasing me, kitten?” his voice is gravel and earthquake and you’re emboldened by the sound, by the way his pupil dilates, the black hole at the center of every galaxy — gravity made solid, made real.

“yes,” you breathe, leaning up like a dare and he meets you gloriously, his lips hard and pressing and soft and pulling. there’s a fire unspooling at the base of your spine, stoked by the heat and truth of him, so close, too close — you break apart gasping. he grins, lynx-like and wolfish as he grazes his teeth along the column of your throat.

“good,” he says, sighing into your flesh as you arch up into him, your fingers curling into his hair as he flips the pair of you over. he pulls you beneath him and he is storm and thunder, he is rain and wonder — he is water to your desert skies, the sunlit days to all your moonless nights.

and as he makes to rend you into pleasure, into nothing more than ache and belonging, he pulls back with a bone-deep growl, a sliver of hesitation, of self-preservation.

“are… are you sure you want this?” that you want me? the echo is not lost on you.

and it’s not the first time he’s asked you the question, and you have a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last. but you reply as you had, once upon a time, in a distant, sun-drenched afternoon, when you’d been telling him about one of your favorite poems from your time.

you smile, tug him down for a kiss.

“yes,” you say, like you’d done on that long-ago afternoon, “i want you — i want this, masamune. because… I love you.”

“i will love you when you are a still day… i will love you when you are a hurricane.”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen series #date masamune #ikemen sengoku x reader #ikesen masamune #date masamune x reader #ikemen sengoku imagines #ikemen sengoku headcanons #ikesen imagines #ikesen headcanons #floofy floof floof #OKAY but the feeling of tagging a REAL HISTORICAL FIGURE LFMAO #vi i blame u for all the bullshit im about to rain on this damn fandom LOL i havent played these games in YEARS i tell u #is this IC? IDK WHO KNO WHO CARE lol #i hope u liked it u_u #ALL CREDIT WHRE CREDIT IS DUE that last line comes from clementine von radics #i love her poetry pls go read it; this one comes from her collection called 'mouthful of forevers' its SO GOOD GO READ IT #doNT tease me with humans as metaphors for natural disasters man i will fucking GOBBLE that shit up #i love it almost as much as i love sky/star/sun/moon/ocean/general astronomy anaologies

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THE THREE BIRDS [fantasy short story]

Personified immortal Stars have lived secretly on Earth throughout history. This piece takes place in 13th century Iran, notable for astronomical scholarship, and Arabic star names are used as the main roots. Waqi (currently the Star Vega) leads Taira (Altair) and Dhanab (Deneb) on a mission to secure the Stars' carefully kept secret existence. The Stars' world was created by myself and @heirmyst. Word count: 5,201

Waqi climbed the sky higher, relentlessly battling the air with every flap of their wings. As they gained altitude, frost dared to gather on their face. Unfazed, they summoned latent blue fire from within, melting it on immediate impact.

Good attempt, nature, they thought, smiling into the forceful wind. But only I decide when to stop.

Except even the grandest flights rested on the premise of a zenith… and its aftermath. Finally, air thinned to nothing, and Earth below seemed a faint suggestion of matter. The time had come. Waqi slowed the frenzied movement of their wings.

They took a deep breath, savoring the moment. “Here it comes.”

Then, they let themself fall.

The air just barely carried the sound they let out, halfway between a laugh and a scream of delight.

This was their favorite part. They would never admit it on the ground, where every part of them itched to fight the atmosphere with their wings and fly, however high the day would let them. Many times, they’d said to other Stars that they’d happily give up immortality if it meant they could fly for the rest of their existence, and the sentiment was barely a joke. But the fall? They lived for it, and the air as they burned their way down was the sweetest they’d ever taste.

Clouds faded into view, gray and rumbling, preparing to unleash a deluge onto Iran. Waqi’s fists heated up, glowing with ready blasts; they could not let this unacceptable weather stand.

They plunged into the mess. When fog took over their vision, they pivoted sharply, punching at the nearest storm cloud. The lightning crackling inside was no match for Waqi’s own strikes of energy. They cut through the surrounding air in a wide arc, so swiftly that the clouds vanished with a whimper.

“You tried,” Waqi said, laughing to themself as they took off to vanquish the brewing storm from the rest of the sky.

They moved with instinctive ease when they shed their corporeal form to become a merciless blue lightning bolt. It was less satisfying than punches and blasts, but it killed every threatened storm before it got the chance to materialize, all the while keeping Waqi hidden from any onlooking human’s eyes.

Of course, the tactic traded away precision for raw power.

They didn’t process hitting the wrong target until the voices rang out.

“Waqi!” Dhanab yelled, halting the excitement with a start. “What in the skies did you do that for?”

Waqi shifted back into their usual form, steadying their flight with their wings and blinking the scene before them into clarity. Their Star friends Dhanab and Taira hovered in front of them. Dhanab was scrambling to cover her head. Taira had stopped midway through braiding Dhanab’s hair, barely containing laughs.

Slowly, Waqi turned around. Remnants of lightning floated in empty air, having burned a hole in the white cloud structure around them. They’d destroyed a Star lodging. For the third time that week. And this time, they didn’t get to pretend they were heroically fighting monstrous Hauntings, because this was nothing but a cloud punching spree.

They faced their friends with a sheepish smile. “I’ve interrupted something, I gather?”

“I’d say so, yes,” Taira said lightly, at the same time as Dhanab muttered, “Not the first time.”

“In my defense,” Waqi began. “I had—”

“North Star duties,” the two finished in unison.

Waqi looked away, sighing. There went their excuse. “I don’t suppose you’ll allow me to make it up to you?”

A scheming smirk crept across Dhanab’s face. “Taira?”

“Hm.” Taira stretched and cracked her joints in preparation. “Since you've so kindly offered...”

Waqi had barely enough time to summon a defensive forcefield when Taira shot toward them with unbelievable speed. She tackled them off the cloud’s ledge. Waqi fought to keep their flight steady among her unpredictable movements and countered her every hit. Laughing all the way, they tumbled wherever Taira wished, because as strong as a flier as Waqi was, they only fought the air; Taira held it at her command.

“Unfair!” Waqi protested, pushing Taira’s voluminous wind blown hair away from their own face. “I’m taking this up with the king!”

“What’s the matter?” Taira said, between laughs. “Holding back so I’ll be taken off guard by your next move?”

Waqi caught her next punches, holding both of her hands in place with a surge of lightning. They grinned. “You know me too well. This is a tactical liability.”

She cried out as Waqi seized her hair and flipped her over their head. As soon as they readied their next blast, their arm locked up, illuminating with a silvery blue glow.

The rest of their body followed. Taira also froze. The two Stars’ descent had been halted by a joy-killing outside force.

“Dhanab!” Waqi yelled to the sky. “It was just going to get good!”

Taira snorted. “For you, maybe.”

Dhanab swooped gracefully down from above, landing only a few feet below without breaking her telekinetic hold on the other two. Waqi gaped. Were they that close to the ground already?

“Do you want to let all of Maragha in on the secret?” Dhanab asked, gesturing frantically to the town behind her.

“Oh, we’re in trouble now?” Taira asked.

“You will be, keeping this up,” Dhanab said. “Two wild winged beasts screaming and clawing at each other is hardly discreet.”

Waqi raised an eyebrow. “And two wild winged beasts suspended in midair by a third, decidedly more stuck-up winged beast… is?”

Dhanab opened her mouth to argue, then shrugged. “Point taken.” With one wave of her hand, the glow faded, and Waqi and Taira collapsed in a heap on the ground.

Waqi brushed themself free. Dhanab pointedly looked past them in favor of helping Taira up. Only Taira.

“The disrespect,” Waqi said with mock offense, forcing themself to their feet. “This is how you treat your North Star?”

Dhanab smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t dream of insinuating the North Star could possibly need my help.”

Waqi rolled their eyes and shifted their attention to the sky. At least from here, they could check whether they’d succeeded in averting the storm. They expected to see clear blue conditions, plagued by a few maddening remnants of a storm they happened to miss. Instead they were met with… a sunset. In the distance, the town of Maragha seemed to come alive, suddenly bustling with movement.

“Oh no,” Taira said quietly behind them.

“I know,” they agreed, exasperated, glaring at the accursed observatory on a nearby hill. “Now we’ll have to listen to the evening prayer.”

“I like the sound of the prayer,” Dhanab said quietly.

Taira shook her head. “It isn’t that! The sun set too early.” Oh, Waqi thought. They’d assumed they simply lost track of time once more. “Waqi,” Taira said, all humor gone from her voice. Disoriented by the sudden change in mood, Waqi turned to face her. “This is a whole hour early.”

Dhanab’s eyes widened. “An hour? Did the king tell you anything about this?”

Waqi laughed, but their voice shook with uncertainty. “There you two go, taking everything the sky does so seriously…”

“Even if we didn’t, the humans would!” Dhanab argued. “Especially here. Their prayer relies on this, you think they won’t look into the situation? And if they look too deep, they’ll find us, and then the secret keepers might tell on us too, and—”

“Dhanab.” Taira wrapped an arm around her. “Slow down. Breathe.” She looked to Waqi for support.

Their words caught in their throat. Skies above, they had not expected a morale strengthening task today. “I’ll… speak to Sol,” they blurted out, “and get this all sorted! He’ll play some trick of sunlight, hide the irregularity. This kind of thing is easy for him! It will be fine.”

The Star king’s name seemed to put the two at ease. Yes, Sol would fix this, and Waqi would have free reign to make fun of his overly dramatic success speeches to his face afterward. That was how this was supposed to go.

“Before that,” Taira piped up, “maybe we can go and ask director Tusi’s minions what they think is happening.” She tilted head toward the observatory. “To see how much damage we’ll have to undo.”

Waqi made a face at the thought of vanishing their wings. “Go and ask. In the guise of a human?”

“As a man?” Dhanab added, equally offended. “No, thank you.”

Both of them stared at Taira. She sighed, closing her wings and gathering up her long cloudlike tresses. “The usual, I see.”

“Don’t act as if you don’t like it,” Dhanab said.

Taira winked at her. “I let you off the hook only because you’re too beautiful to pass as a man.”

Dhanab flushed, but got to work on tearing a section of her own outer robes, wrapping it around Taira’s hair as a makeshift turban.

“You could just give over your scarf,” Waqi pointed out.

“Waqi, please!” Dhanab said, scandalized. “I am not going to stay out here uncovered!”

That sounded absolutely ridiculous, but Waqi chose not to argue. They never did see the point in bothering with matters of earthly conduct, when by all means the Stars were meant to live above them all. This is why they could never stomach any task that involved walking among humans. Their status as North Star, Stardom’s first line of defense, would surely get lost among the endless customs and rules that every other little kingdom offered a different version of. Such a life was inconceivable.

Still, they noticed that Dhanab was pointedly trying to avoid being perceived with torn robes. Wordlessly, they walked in such a way to conceal her from any passersby’s view, keeping a low profile as they trailed Taira.

Not that Taira made it particularly easy.

With a skip in his step, Taira closed in on the observatory hill at a quick pace. Too quick. The other two almost struggled to keep up and stay hidden at the same time.

“What’s his hurry?” Waqi whispered to Dhanab.

“You know Taira,” Dhanab said. “At least he hasn’t resorted to flying. Yet.”

Waqi and Dhanab stopped at a distance, hanging back as Taira went on. He reached the entrance of the central observatory tower, greeting the two workers outside like old friends. One of the men straightened up to receive the new company, while the other remained pointedly occupied perusing an astronomical manual.

“Peace be upon you, brothers!” Taira said. “I could not help noticing that the sun has been down for several counts too far, and I have not heard the call for Maghrib yet.”

“Upon you be peace. I do not know what to tell you, Al-Ta’ir,” the attentive man said, his tone apologetic, as if he was fully ready to take the blame for the heavens breaking an otherwise flawless pattern. “Sirvan and I have been in conversation all day, and we haven’t yet reached an impasse.”

“Forget this pretense, Payam. Tell him like it is!” the other man, Sirvan snapped. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration and, without warning, shoved the manual in Taira’s face. “Look at this!”

Taira stayed silent for too long. “Yes,” he said, purely to appease the worker. “This is… most irregular.”

“Irregular,” Sirvan said with a bitter laugh. “For all our lives the sky stays constant! Predictable! ‘Study the heavens,’ Tusi tells us, ‘Mark prayers as God commands!’ How were we meant to know the sun can set anytime!”

Waqi rolled their eyes. Humans truly believed their neat tables could map the skies out to the letter. As if the Stars had nothing better to do than move in strict patterns for their convenience. An impulsive lightning blast threatened to break free at their fist. Dhanab touched their hand, stopping it right there.

“I believe I should call out Maghrib now,” Payam said carefully. “The people will be concerned.”

“Concerned?” Sirvan said, baffled. “This is unlike anything we’ve seen!”

Taira wisely saw his exit. “Thank you, brothers,” he said, though Sirvan’s diatribe about the fundamental principles of the sun’s movement drowned it out. “I trust your decision, and eagerly await your call.” Meaningfully, he caught Payam’s eye at the last word.

With that, Taira left the scene as swiftly as he’d arrived, regrouping with Dhanab and Waqi.

“Overreacting scholars,” Waqi said. “This is probably nothing!”

Taira ignored them. “Payam is the muazzin. I’ve dropped as many suggestions as it’s appropriate for me to do. I think we’ll be in the clear, if he can get his volatile brother calmed or distracted long enough to call the prayer.”

“I hope he does,” Dhanab said softly.

“That’s all we can do for our coverup on the human side, but we’ll stick around just in case.” Taira turned to Waqi. “The rest is up to you. Ask Sol what’s going on. He’s the only one who can make this seamless.”

Waqi nodded. This, at least, they could do. Leaving their friends at the hill, they crept a safe distance away from wandering townspeople’s eyes.

Then, they opened their wings and shot off into the early night sky. The air was clear, carrying that sweet tropical taste that came only when the dark settled and—

Focus, they reminded themself, shaking off the intoxication. This flight had to be short, direct. Purely economical.

They ascended just enough for their head to peek through clouds.

Waqi looked around, and almost didn’t recognize Sol’s home at first. They were so used to the sight of extravagantly piled clouds, reflecting sunlight with infuriating perfection, that they only processed the black clouds in front of them as an incoming weather disaster.

Somewhere on the way to destroying the storm, they realized it floated where their best friend’s home should have been.

“Sol?” Waqi’s voice broke embarrassingly at the call of his name.

Any moment, the only part of them still clinging to hope insisted. Any moment, Sol would fly out, laugh triumphantly about his incredible unexpected practical joke, and fix everything.

No answer came.

Waqi rammed themself into the mass of black clouds, their mind racing. The structure fell apart pathetically, the only sign of Sol’s brilliant presence being stray plumes of flame. Actual flame. Not the inviting light that always decorated the king’s home.

Waqi emerged on the other side into empty air. The home being deserted, leaving only storm clouds and flame, and whatever the early sunset was…

All signs pointed to a struggle.

Waqi glared at the remnants of black smoke around them with newfound hatred. This was no longer annoying weather. It was the herald of the enemies—assassins—who took Sol away… and after seeing it, Waqi was sitting here, staring into space like an idiot.

They needed to act now. In a flash of blue lightning, they dived, right back to the spot where they left their friends. The grass beneath them caught fire as the shock of the ground returned them to their corporeal form. Before they had time to breathe, someone grabbed their shoulder.

“Careful! You’ll—” Dhanab’s usual chiding stopped short, and her face softened into concern. “What happened?”

Waqi tried to contort their features into something less alarming. Judging by their friends’ confused glances, it did not work.

“What did the king say?” Taira asked. “He didn’t deny the request, did he?”

A laugh, clipped and shaky, escaped Waqi’s throat at the question. “It’s a hard thing even for him, to deny something he hasn’t even heard,” they said. “Something broke into his home. Only storm clouds remain there.”

A shadow passed over the other two’s faces. Taira took a deep breath. “Please don’t tell me…”

“Hauntings?” Dhanab asked, her voice small. It was barely a question.

“Listen to me,” Waqi said, grasping her hand, suddenly emboldened by their friends’ clear panic. Waqi couldn’t afford to be scared when they had other Stars to worry about. “No one can hear of this. Not until we get to the bottom of it.”

“Waqi,” Taira said. They couldn’t help but flinch. They hated when all playfulness faded from her voice like that. “This isn’t some accidental cabin fire we can just pretend is an act of nature. This is an attempted Haunting assassination, and if those monsters even got to the king, what chance—”

“They didn’t get to him!” Waqi snapped. “It’s Sol! Skies above, will you have some faith? For all we know, he reduced them all to ashes and is just… hunting for a new home. Or better yet, for the assassins’ allies.”

This half of North Star duties, the one which was conquered by words rather than fire, never came naturally to Waqi. Yet, often, they found they could simply speak anything into existence, and if it softened even a single line of worry on a fellow Star’s face, it would do the trick. For better or worse, Waqi held all the cards here. They knew Sol better than anyone; whatever they said about him, the other two had to take it by necessity.

Waqi needed to take it too. It was all they had.

“You’re right,” Dhanab said, mercifully. “Yes, that must be it!”

“So, all we do is track him down. It’s the same plan as before… just with this extra step.” They spoke feverishly right as the words came to them. “Taira. Those trails of dark smog from Hauntings are left in the sky for hours after the fact, are they not?”

Taira nodded, a hint of her usual laidback confidence returning to her eyes. “If the monsters escaped—”

“There’s no way in hell Sol would let them go free without pursuit,” Waqi finished. They braced themself for flight. “Lead the way. We’re right behind you.”

And so, the three Stars took to the skies. They cast jokes and idle conversation between themselves like playing balls, masking any unwanted urgency. The premature night hung around them heavily. Even as they followed the sickening, viscous Haunting trail, no one dared to suggest the unspoken; that the king was likely in danger and it may be up to them to save him. Sol was supposed to save them, not the other way around.

You’re fine, Sol, Waqi thought to themself repeatedly, reassuring their own mind and daring their friend to meet the challenge. They need you to be fine. You can give them that much.

Give me that much.

When the trail ended its forward snaking in the sky and dissolved into fog, Taira began to descend and the other two followed. An expansive lake awaited them below. It boiled furiously, despite the cool night, sending warm air towards the Stars.

“Here we are,” Taira whispered. “Now, either the Hauntings show themselves, or Sol comes out… let’s hope we don’t have to do something drastic.”

Waqi strained their eyes to see the lake past the fog. Why was it boiling? “I swear… why can’t we just—”

“Don’t summon a flame,” Dhanab warned, reading their mind. “Wait for it.”

“Wait?” Waqi shot back, incredulous. “For them to—”

Something shot out of the lake. One projectile gave way to several, piercing the silence with the high whistles of Haunting laughter. The fog stopped the Stars from seeing the attack, but they all heard it, and knew the lack of light would not let them dodge. Taira screamed as a Haunting assailant tackled her into the darkness.

“No!” Dhanab instantly moved to follow Taira’s faint white flame.

Waqi prepared a blast. “Leave it to me!”

Dhanab blocked their path, taking hold of their shoulders. “I’ve got her. You should look for the king.”

Look for the king. Waqi knew what she meant to say, but they resented the wording anyway. It was far too close to acknowledging the danger they’d so carefully chosen to downplay. Still, she stayed, her gaze lingering on them with clear anxiety. She wouldn’t go without their express order.

“Go,” Waqi told her. “Do… whatever it is you were already going to.”

She smiled, relieved. “North Star duty!” she called out encouragingly, flitting away to Taira’s aid.

Dropping every precaution about stealth, Waqi lit themself up in a burst of blue flame. The fog lifted. Finally, finally, they could see their attackers, scattered in midair and on the banks of the lake; without the cloak of darkness, the Hauntings carried forms befitting creatures of earth, except far too big, and closer to humans in terms of gait and clarity of disruptive purpose. This assortment of aquatic bait froze in fear at Waqi’s explosion, even the overgrown shrimp that had Dhanab and Taira locked in battle. Waqi relished the look of shock on the monsters’ faces. Clearly, they hadn’t been expecting the North Star.

Just as quickly, they recovered with shrill battle cries, and the inky fog wafted into the air once more. This time, Waqi was ready.

They shot lightning indiscriminately, warding off the first few human-sized black crustacean Hauntings that leapt up at them. The flame stayed steady all the way, keeping their sight clear throughout every scuffle. The effort of keeping up defenses still remained a liability. They could not take in a single iota of their surroundings if every moment was punctuated by a strike at the relentless Haunting flock.

“Clear me an opening!” Waqi yelled to their friends.

Practically before Waqi finished speaking, it was done. Dhanab seized telekinetic control of the flock’s edges, and Taira sped to take out anyone who dared step into Waqi’s radius.

With newfound freedom, Waqi began a swift descent… and it allowed them a crucial glance at the mysteriously boiling lake.

A golden light flickered beneath, its glow coloring fire into the angry waters.

Sol.

Waqi didn’t think. They dove headfirst, the fall heating up their every inch. Hauntings cried out, attempted a poorly thought out deflection, but Waqi’s fire now radiated fatally. Just try it now, they dared the assassins. Naturally, not a single one met the challenge.

The saline water greeted them all at once.

Any numbing power it might have had over Waqi was warded off by the burning field surrounding them. They had bigger concerns.

“You came,” said an unmistakable voice behind them, with a tone of never having expected anything else. “My one and only North Star.”

Waqi turned sharply to look at Sol, relief and frustration warring within them for the chance to guide their response. Neither got the chance, because an ink-black current hit them instead.

The staggering force threw them back, until they wedged their feet against the lake floor and opened their wings. They summoned a field of energy, protecting them from the onslaught. Waqi stepped forward, fighting the water with all they had, and broke into a run. The Hauntings they rammed into crumpled at the slightest touch of fire.

Waqi had help down here too. Sol’s pillar of flame, emboldened by the new arrival, burned brighter, working with Waqi’s to purify the waters. When the blackness cleared, the piscine Hauntings that cast the torrent at them instantly skittered away from fear. Good.

At long last, the sunny glow was uninhibited. Every malicious assassin who stood between Waqi and Sol had been vanquished. As for Sol himself, his wings had been folded down and forcibly fastened to a rock formation by the Hauntings’ signature viscous ink. His brilliant golden locks, plumes of flame that had been boiling the lake from underneath, finally settled into soft waves. Despite the tired, sunken shadows beneath his eyes, he beamed at his friend like nothing had happened.

“I take it you have questions,” Sol said, calm as ever.

“Oh, you don't know the half of it. Hold still!” Waqi struck Sol’s restraints with lightning, setting his wings free. Sol stumbled forward from the sudden unshackling, and Waqi moved to steady him. “Do you need a moment?”

Any sign of weakness faded as his eyes flashed with clear offense. “Who in the everloving skies do you think I am?”

Waqi laughed. There he was. “I was only making sure. Come on!”

They seized his arm, guiding him to the surface until his wings recovered enough to pull his own weight. Waqi made it to the surface first, taking in the taste of pure wind and then turning to help Sol onto solid ground. A clear night sky shone above them, decorated with stars, free of any fog. The smell of charred flesh and the odd black puddle on the bank were the only signs that Hauntings had even been there.

“Well done,” Sol said, finally allowing Waqi to unclench their muscles. He’d said the word, so the fight was over.

A short distance away, Dhanab stood over Taira, no doubt fussing endlessly over every minor scratch Taira had sustained during her scuffle with the shrimp Haunting. All the while, Taira stared at her, smiling like she’d won something beyond the fight, not making a single move to stop her. Waqi rolled their eyes fondly. Those two could accomplish untold feats exemplifying every Star ideal, and still act afterward more like illicitly close adolescent human girls.

Sol strode toward them. “I see I have you two to thank for this infestation’s defeat.”

Dhanab jumped to attention, rushing to adjust her scarf. “My king! It is… an immeasurable relief to see you again.”

He laughed good naturedly, extending a hand to help Taira to her feet. “Are you alright?”

She took it. “That shrimp was far sturdier than he looked.”

“You must forgive me for the confusion this must have caused,” Sol said, and Waqi made a considerable effort to not bite back in the presence of their friends. “As valiantly as you fought, I never like having to send you all into Haunting territory.”

Taira scoffed. “You didn’t need us, my king. We all saw how you boiled the lake. Waqi told us on the way you were probably destroying them already, and they were right!”

Sol turned to Waqi, an unspoken question in his eyes. Waqi met his eyes meaningfully. Later, they tried to tell him.

Dhanab cleared her throat. “There’s still the matter of… the early sunset,” she said, thankfully changing the subject. “The humans were very shaken up.”

“Ah,” Sol said, glaring at the sky with truly personal resentment. “An unfortunate side effect of my… divergence, after the assassination attempt.” He stood up straighter. “No matter. The irregularities will be smoothed over by next morning. And our North Star here can convey the desired story to the secret keepers.”

“What?” Waqi protested. “Please don’t make me talk to Tusi again! He’s insufferable!”

The other three laughed, because Waqi’s misfortune was the joke that united them all. Some friends, Waqi thought, though they couldn’t stop their smile.

Taira stretched out her arms. They cracked painfully, sending out sparks, but she pretended not to notice. “Well, that’s taken care of. I should check Maragha’s parameter for any runaways.”

“Absolutely not,” Sol scolded. “Dhanab, get her straight home and make sure she doesn’t set a single wingbeat out until next sunrise. This is an order.”

Already at attention, Dhanab grabbed Taira’s hand and spread her wings. “Yes, my king! Let’s go, Waqi.”

“You two go ahead,” they said, mustering all the cheer they could. “I need to speak with the king.”

It was a common enough request that the two didn’t think twice about. Waqi watched as arm in arm, Dhanab and Taira took off into the sky, chattering between themselves about plans for the next day.

Once they were sure the two were out of earshot, Waqi punched Sol in the face.

Sol, naturally, barely flinched. “And here I thought you’d be the bigger Star about this,” he said flatly.

Waqi swung another fist, overflowing with everything they’d been holding back. “The bigger Star? You—” They pointed an accusing, lightning infused finger, giving up all pretense of being the unbothered North Star. “—scared the absolute shit out of me, you know that?”

Sol sighed. “Of course. I realize it was not ideal, but—”

“I had to tell them you were fine.” Breathlessly, they laughed, because the absurdity didn’t let them react any other way. “I mean, even after the sunset, I’d seen the state of your home. And I had to look them in the eyes and tell them you weren’t in trouble. And all this time, the Hauntings actually overpowered you, imprisoned you in a fucking lake? They could’ve hurt you, or worse!”

“They could have done no such thing,” Sol said, so emphatically that it actually gave Waqi pause. “I was in no danger. I knew you’d come.”

“Oh, please…”

Sol took their shoulders and stared them right in the eye. Quietly, with terrifying emphasis, he said, “I let them capture me.”

Waqi froze, at a loss for words.

“I had no time to decide.” He spoke hurriedly, like he needed to make Waqi understand in the shortest time possible. “The assassins came, and all I could think was, are there others nearby, and will they hurt the other Stars if I don’t act? I allowed my home to be ransacked, and I allowed them the false sense of confidence to imprison me. And… the plan had been to do away with them all once they took me to their base, but…”

“The lake,” Waqi finished. “And the darkness, and the combined force of the flock. Just one of those three at a time you could’ve taken. Not all at once.”

“It did not end me, or even hurt much. It did worse, momentarily weakening me enough that I couldn’t fight back. I counted on you to finish it for me.” Finally taking a breath, he smiled. “And you did.”

Any trace of lingering anger Waqi might have harbored evaporated. They pulled Sol into an embrace, taking great pleasure in the fact that he, eternal king of Stars, melted into it instantly. “You know I always will,” they said, and they meant it. Sol was put on such a pedestal by other Stars, and Waqi knew how thin he was spread because of it. They were the one person he had to fall back on; this was the least they could do. “Still, for the love of the skies, never pull something like this again. Your grand kingly plans are going to be the death of me.”

“But you cannot die.”

“I’m also best friends with a king who believes the basic principles of reality are optional,” they joked, letting go of the hug. “It’s safer to not take anything for granted.”

“That sounds fair,” Sol conceded. “All of this aside, I will ask you… keep the reality of this day between us.”

Waqi nodded. As if they needed to be told. “I’m not your trusted North Star for nothing.” They beat their wings twice and rose, itching to take to a clear sky for the first time that day. “Get up here!” they called down to Sol.

“To where?” he said with a laugh. “You know what became of my home.”

“Well, fortunately for you, I’m feeling daring today,” they said. “I think it’s about time I rebuild a cloud home, instead of crushing every one I touch.”

#writing #fantasy writing #short story #original character #oc #stars collapse #en writes #historical fantasy #back with a new miniseries!#if you've read the previous one #yes this is the same vega just some seven hundred years ago #the research. so much has been done. this ate up months of my life #please enjoy #and ask me about islamic astronomy

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