Closed sound of stars

[Chiaja]

fall 40 512 av ❤ sound of stars ❤ chiaja's home Constellations. They made her. She was one of Leth's, one of Zintila's. Fallen from inky black and red into a bassinet made of sea foam and rocky waves. Like a fallen star made human. Chiaja considered herself a star. One that fell from...Pyxis. The mariner's compass. But she would stare at the sky and ponder her past in the silver dream that was her before she fell. It had been somewhat-almost-sorta easy to crawl onto the roof. The window was large enough to fit her, her height made stepping up to the roof child's play. Kass was sleeping, and it was just her and the stars. And the peacock from hell, Tw-tw. But even he was quiet on this Lethless night. Her hair was shimmery, pale blonde, with no sign of the black it was a season before. The milky yellow jade of her horns didn't show the mixture it was in the clove of seasons, and they curled around her head like a crown from her temples. Nothing had changed. Her hair was tied up in her reddish-purple scarf, protected from the nonexistent dust and wind in the cool, calm night. She wore little more than her red pants and vest, not really caring what she looked like at night to anyone high enough to see her. The crowns of Leth perfumed the air, from gardens all across the alabaster city. Maybe she could take flight like the crows that the Chaktawe worshiped. She looked out of place in this city, at least at night. Her pale moon-skin and blonde hair was an oddity, something she peered out of quietly with her eyes of cobalt. She couldn't find Pyxis tonight, but she stared at her past sadly. Wistfully.

[Vaewe]

The sea was cold and blue. Vaewe’s satchel lay on the shore. Below was stretched a string of shells and kelp, items the sea had brought up with the tide and forgotten to take away once again. Past this boundary of discarded items Vaewe inched, his mottled tail carving a shallow trough in the fine sand. The day had been long. It had been hot. His arms were heavy from moving about the shop, where he could not fly. His eyes were tired from the shimmering bodies, glittering gems and the bright sun that now sank slowly toward the horizon. But the sea. The sea was cold and blue. It was lift and life and release and wrapped about his aching arms and tired chest. It pulled him down, down, away from the weight of his body, the heat of the sun. Vaewe breathed once and then sank. The sea here was shallow, and the sand was fine. It felt like cold silk against his belly and tail and Vaewe let himself lie on the bottom of the sea for a moment. He could feel the cool kiss of the water on his skin and the tickle of the current in his wings. They pulled some of the ache from his bones. Dark grey flippers raised a cloud of sand as Vaewe began to swim. The sunset’s light was here filtered into dim and cool rays. It was not the best time to search for treasures, but Vaewe had not had time to rest in many days. It was calm here in the shadows of the waves, skimming so low over the sand that each undulation of Vaewe’s tail lifted a fine haze behind him. He saw a crab sifting its way into the sand, startled by his presence. A school of minnows darted to the east as he approached, looking like a fleeing cloud of silver. At last he found it! A sharp white edge peeking out from the sand. Pulled out and dusted off, two small, folded feathery wings, a piddock’s shell, still bound by a scrap of tendon. This was what he needed. The shell in Vaewe’s hand was comforting, white and ridged, with beads running along well defined lines. The inside was slick and let his thumb slide easily across it. These were the shells he would bring to Caesta as a child. Surface and the cool breeze against his face, salt water on pale lips, this tasted of home and was a comfort to Vaewe. His white wings were the only thing bright on the sea. They lifted him to shore. The air was cool, but dry and his skin shed the water quickly. After collecting his satchel the Akvatari flew for his chambers, lifting above a city that had now fallen to the night. Windows glowed beneath him, warm patches against a sea of cold marble. It was dark, the windows and the stars were the only lights out tonight. A quarter of the city had passed beneath him. A shudder passed through him. It shook his bones, traveling from shoulder blades to spine. Vaewe felt cold and tired. He felt his weight pulling against his wings. In his hand Vaewe felt the shell, smooth on the inside, careful ridges, lovely and refined on the white exterior. These were the shells he would bring to Caesta. Caesta’s shells. Another shudder. Caesta would tell him to land, rest, relax, do not strain. Straining brought the fevers, the aches and pains. Running his thumb through the shell’s soft cradle Vaewe came down on a nearby roof. The wind had dried his hair and now tossed it around his pale face in soft brown waves. Shivering once more Vaewe looked around.

[Chiaja]

The newcomer to Chiaja's communion with the stars was cast nary a glance. She could tell that this creature wasn't very graceful; the clambering and noise it made wasn't a mark of elegance. She didn't speak to the creature, but soon she peered through blonde lashes to the thing that dared interrupt her silent prayer. It was like a grotesque chimera of a seal, a butterfly, and a pale and somewhat sickly-looking boy. She could smell the sea on him; that salty, sandy smell that made her cringe with memories. The icy blue cradle that had held her as she gasped with her first conscious breath into the cruel world of Eyktol. She hated the sea. Volans, the infuriating flying fish, winked at her as if to remind her more of the sea. Of the fish in the water that she was scared to death of. She didn't just hate the sea, it was a fear. A phobia. Thalassophobia. She turned her head to the newcomer, raised her eyebrows in question.

[Vaewe]

Vaewe had not seen such pale skin since his arrival in Ahnatep, except his own. This city was not Abura, filled with fur and wings, nor Mura where the buildings and people were white and shining. Here he was surrounded by bodies with deep, rich color and skin that glittered expensively . Her skin glittered, but not with gold. And though she was pale and blonde and looked almost like a Konti she had no scales to shine in the starlight. Yes, she only looked almost familiar. It was… Disappointing. Vaewe folded his hand about the shell. The cool ridges pressed into his palm and his fingertips slid beneath the smooth lip. He traced the outer edge of his hand with his thumb. Caesta. But Caesta was not here and this creature, who looked rather upset, was not a Konti. Around her head curved two prongs, a crown made of amber and jade. Vaewe had never seen anything like it. Had she made them? Drawn by curiosity, encouraged by loneliness, the young akvatari edged closer to the shining creature. His knuckles ground against the roof as he lifted the front half of his body. With a soft thump his tail followed. He had forgotten the sign the Eypharians used to greet one another, but she was not an Eypharian, clearly. He pointed at her, frowning with confusion, then shaped her horns above his own head. Dropping his arms the frown faded away, leaving his soft lips relaxed, with a question waiting expectantly.

[Chiaja]

Was this boy dumb? Perhaps he couldn't speak any of her languages. He obviously meant her horns. Boy had most likely never seen something of beauty such as an Ethaefal. If it was a boy. She ran her hand along the smooth, opalescent horns that formed her crown, like royalty. She was almost as pale as him, but she was lovely about it. His skin didn't shimmer like moonlight on glass. He was almost pasty-looking in this moonlight, as if he was never in the sun. He crawled towards her like a caterpillar, but one who was never to turn into a butterfly. He already had his wings, but this butterfly-child would never be one or the other. He was forever an abomination. Eyes narrowed, she spoke plainly in Common. If he could even understand. "I am Ethaefal." Ethaefal, Moon-child, Star-child. That's what she was, and that's what he wasn't. She pushed blonde hair that had come loose from its bindings out of her eyes. She could hear Kassret talking in her sleep below her, the window open for Chiaja to get back in. But Leth. She had to bathe in the moon's rays in her silent prayer to her father-god, and praise the constellations of her mother-goddess. Kassret's mumblings ceased and again Chiaja glanced at Leth's face hovering on the bed of Zintila's stars in their places. She drew her knees to her chest in a single, fluid motion, grace and melancholy emanating from her movements.

[Vaewe]

Vaewe had never felt a voice like the one this creature spoke in. Her words smelled like roses, clear, watery and filled with a delicate fragrance. They were sharp and fine, and tingled against his skin like the edges of thin paper rushing past one’s fingers. It was lovely, and slightly exhilarating, though something in her tone hinted at pinpricks, as though she was unhappy at being disturbed and unimpressed with his presence. He had felt similar voices and displeasure before, but the color of her voice was something entirely new. As she spoke Vaewe’s vision was light by the faint silver glow of moonlight. It fell mostly on her, lighting up the woman’s skin, but the sourceless light did not fail to creep into the divets and shadows of the roof. This creature was strange and beautiful, and her voice was equal to her presence. Unfortunately Vaewe did not catch what the woman said. The word was unfamiliar and she spoke quickly. I looked a little like "I am a fail" but from her bearing and slightly scornful eyes he doubted that was how she would introduce herself. Perhaps it was a different language, though it could easily be a word he had never seen, for he had not known that creatures like her existed. So he pressed his lips together and his eyebrows lifted toward the center of his brow. With a shake of his head he meant: I do not understand. He tapped his ear and shook his head again: I cannot hear you. But she looked so sad and lonely, an bright reflection of his own emotions that the akvatari dared to edge a little closer. She was looking up, and he followed her gaze. The night sky was beautiful indeed. He moved his gaze between the woman and the sky several times, a questioning look on his face. Finally he touched his own, imitating her expression and tracing the curve of his cheek from the downturned corner of his eye to the edge of his frown. He opened his palm toward her, his head tilted waiting for a response. Why? A small cough interrupted his expectant gaze, it was shallow and breathless and over quickly. His watery eyes returned to examine her face expectantly.

[Chiaja]

She hissed through her teeth. He was both dumb and deaf. And trying to communicate, as if she understood what his flailing hands meant. He seemed to be asking her a question, but she had no idea what he was trying to say. She instead pointed at her favorite constellation - Pyxis, hovering partially hidden in the sky. The mariner's compass. She shrugged her hair from her shoulders and soon it was all falling down her back, like a sheet of silky wheat. It frustrated her that she couldn't communicate properly with this...this creature. He was steps away from being a dwza. She pointed at his wings and spoke very slowly, carefully, in common. Perhaps he could lip-read. "Fly?" She pointed at his tail. "Swim?" Personally, she hated and feared the ocean. It was her cradle and it was awful, catching her as she fell from paradise and heaven and Leth, her father-god. She fell like a star during a red moon. It was an awful day to have been born.

[Vaewe]

Vaewe knew nothing of the night sky. Night to him was blindness, it hindered his work and even his conversations. Following her hand he saw stars and clouds scattered across non-descript darkness. The cluster of small lights twinkled, they were quite pretty. But… The were the cause of her sorrow. Vaewe did not understand, but the soft scent of roses filled his nose once more and he turned to watch her lips. Fly? Yes, of course. He smiled faintly and nodded as she pointed to his wings, then fluttered them. The Akvatari lifted himself easily on wings as pale as the starlight and circled her once, flying low and landing before her. Swim, certainly. He nodded again, and pushed the shell into her hand. He pointed at it and made a rippling motion with his fingers. He began at his chest, and slowly moved his arms outward, opening them up to their widest expanse. Wide water, the Sea. Vaewe’s hands were now empty and he was worried that this being might be getting tired of his signs. Few people he had met had the patience to spend an entire conversation in mime. He retrieved the slate and chalk he always carried and began to write. I am Akvatari. My name is Vaewe. He underlined Akvatari and gestured to himself, sweeping across his whole body in a single movement. And then the word Vaewe, he pressed a pale hand against his pale chest and tapped once. Then he offered the slate and chalk to the creature in front of him.

[Chiaja]

A shell. Shells came from the sea. He had been to the sea. He swam in it. She could smell it on him, the saltwater and the sand. Her eyes grew wide and she crushed the shell in her hand, pressing hard enough for the shards to draw blood. Chiaja threw them, scattered them like dust in the wind. A shell. She couldn't understand his scribbles of an unfamiliar language. Some letters she could understand, but the words were odd and combined the characters she did know into awkward combinations. She only knew how to write in Arumenic, and even then at a very elementary level. She ignored his gestures and took the slate, erasing the chalk marks with her hand and drawing a picture of her own. It was a crude, child-like drawing, but it effectively showed what she was: a creature fallen from a hole in the 'sky'. She pointed at the bottom, mimicking his gesture of the sea, rippling her fingers and spreading her arms. She pointed at the top of the slate and pointed at the night sky above them, symbolizing the sky. And she pointed at the figure falling from the hole and tapped her own chest.

[Vaewe]

In the faint starlight Chiaja’s blood was dark, nearly black, as it welled up on her fingers and palms. Only where it was spread thinly across the bleached surface of the shell could Vaewe discern the redness of the glossy stain. It was Chiaja’s broken heart that stained Caesta’s shell, though Vaewe felt like it was his own. The shell had been reduced to white wisps of powder and cutting fragments to be plucked up by the wind and tossed to the stars. The dust of the Ethefael’s agony, it glittered a little, like the infants of the stars she adored. Was it one of these inklings that had lodged in Vaewe’s throat? The shards of Caesta stung and choked him, they were so sharp. The scent of the sea filled him, nourished by the salt that was beginning to burn on the edges of his vision. The Starwoman began to blur as Vaewe’s private ocean welled up and overwhelmed her glimmering figure. He gulped once. It was an unsuccessful attempt to remove the pain in his throat, to protest Chiaja’s destruction of his treasure. An inarticulate cry broiled forth from his lips and fell weakly on the shingles. The akvatari did not care where this awful woman had come from. He snatched the board away from her glimmering hands, she need not break anymore of his things, and began to cry. OOCI am soooooo sorry this took so long. I also realize there may not be much for Chiaja to do, but this is really how I think Vae would react. Sorry.