05-25-2018, 11:22 PM
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★ WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD
Time.
Hazel always felt that she had so much of it; prolonging her days into nights because her mind and body didn't seem to recognize the way the earth grew dark when it tilted away from the sun. Before she came to the Ascendants, she would tell herself just another day, just one more day, because time was so uselessly fluid and unnecessary to her. Hazel felt like she could stay up for days without crashing - felt that weightless, that energetic; felt confused when her body would grow weary as the sky turned pink. It was always a surprise: always, always.
But ever since joining the Ascendants? There was always enough time. There was no curfew. There was no discipline. There was nowhere she had to be, because there was always enough time. Deadlines were nonexistent and it was so immensely uplifting to know that there would be no punishment if she didn't finish something in the allotted time. Everybody would be okay. The world would keep turning. People would go about their daily angst and their routines and their agendas.
But not everyone.
The bone-chilling pain that echoed off the walls of the observatory settled in Hazel's veins like ice. Settled down and hung tight like the raw fear that it was. Hazel hardly had the time to shove away the memories of old clanmates from her previous home being dragged into camp a bloody mess before her current project fell from her grip and she was sprinting down the hall and up the stairs, legs working so fast she feared that at any moment she might outrun her own paws. But that fear was distant compared to the utter terror pumping through her body - a feeling she thought might never follow her here. Yet there it was, biting at her heels as she skidded into the main room, hackles raised in fright. But there was no fight here. Just the smell of copper.
There was just a small crowd clustered around a limp body.
And dread dropped like a lead weight in her stomach.
Because it wasn't hard to tell who it was. It wasn't hard to tell that it was Starrynight, founder and beloved leader of the clan. But it wasn't easy to force her paws to carry her over to the scene, legs moving like molasses. It wasn't easy to see the joyous, upbeat glue of the clan bleeding out and broken. It was gut-wrenching and reality-slamming and grounding in the worst possible way.
Hazel didn't know Starry very well. She hadn't been around as long to know what he was truly like - or if that Starry was even any different than the Starry who presented himself as leader. But Hazel knew that he was a wonderful, shining star; the brightly burning tip of a constellation; their very own North star. He was the compass, the cornerstone, the shepherd of the Ascendants - and he was dying. Hazel wanted to say that she only just met him, that she wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to ask why he had antlers and how he created the Ascendants and where he got his happiness from all the time. She wanted to know him personally, not locally.
It was more than simple want, too. Hazel owed Starrynight. She was in his debt because he gave her a place to call home and a friends she might one day call a family. What Starry did gave Hazel a place to start over. And maybe it was fate, or destiny, or some other cosmic force, but she knew. She knew that she would be somewhere - lost - if it weren't for him.
Tears clouded her vision as she tripped, her skin itching with proximity and numb with reality. "Gratias tibi tam, Starry. Omne enim." She murmured, voice quiet. Belatedly, she realized she was speaking in Latin. Swallowing against the heartbreak that made the back of her throat bruise, she sucked in a breath. "Nos -" Fuck. Hazel blinked hard, and tried again. "W-we owe you so much, Starry." Her voice broke at the end, cracking and trailing off as the tears spilled.
She opened her mouth to speak again, but found there was nothing else to say. Nothing else to do about it, except smile shakily at Suite as she pointed out the mosaics she had hung a few days ago thanks to Starry's ideas. Nothing else to say when Bastille sobbed into their dying leader's fur, making Hazel's heart break even further. She had to do something, because Deus, Starry sounded like he was in so much pain.
While Suite and Margy spoke soothing words, Hazel started up a small tune - just a hum off the tip of her tongue that sounded a bit like a lullaby: low and quiet.
Hazel always felt that she had so much of it; prolonging her days into nights because her mind and body didn't seem to recognize the way the earth grew dark when it tilted away from the sun. Before she came to the Ascendants, she would tell herself just another day, just one more day, because time was so uselessly fluid and unnecessary to her. Hazel felt like she could stay up for days without crashing - felt that weightless, that energetic; felt confused when her body would grow weary as the sky turned pink. It was always a surprise: always, always.
But ever since joining the Ascendants? There was always enough time. There was no curfew. There was no discipline. There was nowhere she had to be, because there was always enough time. Deadlines were nonexistent and it was so immensely uplifting to know that there would be no punishment if she didn't finish something in the allotted time. Everybody would be okay. The world would keep turning. People would go about their daily angst and their routines and their agendas.
But not everyone.
The bone-chilling pain that echoed off the walls of the observatory settled in Hazel's veins like ice. Settled down and hung tight like the raw fear that it was. Hazel hardly had the time to shove away the memories of old clanmates from her previous home being dragged into camp a bloody mess before her current project fell from her grip and she was sprinting down the hall and up the stairs, legs working so fast she feared that at any moment she might outrun her own paws. But that fear was distant compared to the utter terror pumping through her body - a feeling she thought might never follow her here. Yet there it was, biting at her heels as she skidded into the main room, hackles raised in fright. But there was no fight here. Just the smell of copper.
There was just a small crowd clustered around a limp body.
And dread dropped like a lead weight in her stomach.
Because it wasn't hard to tell who it was. It wasn't hard to tell that it was Starrynight, founder and beloved leader of the clan. But it wasn't easy to force her paws to carry her over to the scene, legs moving like molasses. It wasn't easy to see the joyous, upbeat glue of the clan bleeding out and broken. It was gut-wrenching and reality-slamming and grounding in the worst possible way.
Hazel didn't know Starry very well. She hadn't been around as long to know what he was truly like - or if that Starry was even any different than the Starry who presented himself as leader. But Hazel knew that he was a wonderful, shining star; the brightly burning tip of a constellation; their very own North star. He was the compass, the cornerstone, the shepherd of the Ascendants - and he was dying. Hazel wanted to say that she only just met him, that she wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to ask why he had antlers and how he created the Ascendants and where he got his happiness from all the time. She wanted to know him personally, not locally.
It was more than simple want, too. Hazel owed Starrynight. She was in his debt because he gave her a place to call home and a friends she might one day call a family. What Starry did gave Hazel a place to start over. And maybe it was fate, or destiny, or some other cosmic force, but she knew. She knew that she would be somewhere - lost - if it weren't for him.
Tears clouded her vision as she tripped, her skin itching with proximity and numb with reality. "Gratias tibi tam, Starry. Omne enim." She murmured, voice quiet. Belatedly, she realized she was speaking in Latin. Swallowing against the heartbreak that made the back of her throat bruise, she sucked in a breath. "Nos -" Fuck. Hazel blinked hard, and tried again. "W-we owe you so much, Starry." Her voice broke at the end, cracking and trailing off as the tears spilled.
She opened her mouth to speak again, but found there was nothing else to say. Nothing else to do about it, except smile shakily at Suite as she pointed out the mosaics she had hung a few days ago thanks to Starry's ideas. Nothing else to say when Bastille sobbed into their dying leader's fur, making Hazel's heart break even further. She had to do something, because Deus, Starry sounded like he was in so much pain.
While Suite and Margy spoke soothing words, Hazel started up a small tune - just a hum off the tip of her tongue that sounded a bit like a lullaby: low and quiet.
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better