They had arranged, once more, to meet, to gaze, to talk, to be together. Though "arrange" was not quite the right word, and Noctura did not take it for granted. Every second with Asterr was more magical than the last, enhanced in recent times by the effervescent glow of the stars under which they met. He sat now beneath that wide open blanket of navy — it was spring and the hour was not too late, so there was no great depth to the sky tonight. But there it was, visible above the canopy, which itself flourished beneath a huge gap in the mountainous ceiling. This was his favourite place. Perhaps the swarthy black statue looked quite distracted as he gazed up at those stars, but he was not distracted. His mind had rarely been so lucid.
To meet with him was something she rather enjoyed, each encounter strengthening the bond between them. She knew there to be something there, but the exact details eluded her. She could come up with no explanation for the way she felt, often misjudging it and labeling it as something that it wasn't. They were friends, this she knew, but they were close. Perhaps even closer than mere friends should ever be, but that was a thought she'd never considered. It was normal for her, the bond they shared, and was what she'd been searching for. Between them there lived something she hoped that everyone might find, the ties of a true partnership, whether it be romantic or not; which theirs was not as of yet, such affectionate feelings being the very same ones Asterr had yet to present a proper label for. She could not pick them out by name, but was subconsciously aware that there was something more to them. Something greater than she'd ever experienced before.
Asterr had kept silent as she'd walked, her mind drifting up to dance with the stars of the sky as she sought the man out. When she'd first spotted him, only his silhouette could be seen, and she'd noted almost immediately how surreal he'd appeared to be. It was as if he, too, belonged within the sky overhead, though no formal comments pertaining to such thoughts were shared. Rather, she'd approached with her usual silence, greeting him by way of a gentle nudge to the shoulder. Thereafter she'd settled down next to him, looking up through the opening in the ceiling briefly, and then directing her gaze towards his own. "Their reign has yet to truly begin, but even still, I find myself curious of which constellation you may be telling me of tonight," the girl had voiced, her usual smile pulling at the corners of her lips. There she sat, with Noctura effortlessly holding her attention.
He was ever allured by the stars and what they offered — it was curious indeed that his feelings for Asterr were similar. He turned to her now in the same way he turned to the stars when they shone their brightest. As ever, she moved like a black swan, small paws agile but also sprightly. She seemed to be this way often, at least when she was around Noctura, or so he observed.
He smiled, of course, regal face calm and glad as he regarded his dear friend and leader. Shining brightest in our clearing this evening is a star in the constellation of Aquila, the eagle. No matter its beauty, it's actually not a constellation I'm fond of
, he confessed quietly. Quite by coincidence, it has always shone brightest in my life when blood or discord is on the horizon.
The main event had begun quickly, with not a single word being missed. She was attentive, as always, paying her respects for the time he'd taken out of his night in order to share with her the stories of the stars. It would seem that tonight's tale involved Aquila—an eagle whose cultural significance was lost on the yearling—but the potential that came with it's leer was of the most undesirable sort. Blood or discord, death or destruction; the chances of such worrisome things being brought down upon them by a grouping of stars was unlikely, but unsettling enough, still, for the bird's story to be brought into question. "Is there a reason for its relation to such dastardly happenings, or do you truly believe it was never anything more than a series of coincidences?" Accompanied by her query was a childlike tilt of her head, her desire to learn never ceasing to grow. For so long, she'd believed herself to possess an infinite amount of knowledge, yet there she sat with a plethora of questions awaiting their turn to be asked.
"Is there a story that you know of that accompanies this... ah, Aquila?" the girl had asked hardly a moment later, finding difficulty in speaking the avian's name. She wondered what the history might be behind the constellation, if there even was one at all. Perhaps, somewhere within the story it may or may not harbour, hid the reason for why it let its light shine brightly upon Noctura prior to awful events. Did the eagle seek for him what Draco sought for her? How interesting that would be.
There was nothing in this lifetime he valued more than sitting beneath the stars with his... with Asterr. The stars glowed, and her eyes did likewise — with interest, with intelligence, and with affection. This scene would have been flawless if it weren't for the star that had decided to shine for them tonight. He hadn't seen it for a while — not since the night before the Battle of Porcupine Ridge. He had been so distracted back then he hadn't even made the connection, but he had in the past and he was tempted to now.
When the young Alpha asked if there were correlations, he did not hesitate to say: I think it's a mixture of both. For instance, Aquila shone bright during a particularly violent time in my life, and while it was coincidence because of its natural visibility in that part of the world, I would also call it the magic of the stars. Sometimes by coincidence and sometimes not, Aquila can herald discord. But whether it shines tonight for Ryūjin I do not know
, he added softly.
My only stories of Aquila are things that have happened in my own life
, he continued. The legend of Aquila may be grander than I know — I was simply told its meaning by a traveller in passing. Have you ever perceived a message from the stars?
he returned.
Insightful were his words, feeding her mind with thoughts. It could be a mere coincidence that they'd spotted the star, as it could be meant for someone else. Still, there stood a chance that it'd decided to shine so brightly for them in particular, so that a warning might be issued prior to whatever chaos may come their way. Asterr knew not how to go about figuring out the meaning behind it's placement there that night, and she suspected her companion could not, either. It was up to time to reveal to them what it had in store for the tribe. Until then, however, she tried to prevent it from weighing on her mind, focusing on Noctura and his words. "I do hope that is shines for another, however selfish that may sound," she'd murmured, daring not speak any louder than necessary. Her hopes could serve as a lure for the constellation to do unto them great misfortune, but even still, the feeling remained within her chest. For whatever might come their way, the dragon could counter.
No story pertaining to the constellation was shared, perhaps because one didn't exist at all, or maybe because the tale had never been exchanged with the man before. Someday, perhaps a tale might be told about the eagle, but it was clear that simply wasn't meant to happen just yet. Instead, she was asked a question, one of which that demanded some thought be put into it. Asterr had needed to sort through her memories, plucking distant images and thoughts from every accessible corner, piecing together a puzzle that would serve, then, as her response. "I do not believe I have ever genuinely perceived a message from the stars," came her answer. "Even with Draco, the stars had never been something my family sought messages in. For always there lived a vessel, and always they could converse with the dragon directly. Never had we needed to seek answers from the night sky, so never had I looked." And, truthfully, she was glad she hadn't. For had her focus been on he stars in her youth, she would have learned of them quickly, and then she wouldn't be sitting where she currently did. The dragoness did not regret her past choices, as had they not been picked, her nights with the man would have been few.
If Noctura dwelled on what could or couldn't be, his life so far would have been very miserable indeed. His suffering had come from the dangers of his own instincts, rather than the wish for another way of life, or the regret that he'd never had it. No innocent childhood, no pack life, no peace of mind — growing up he'd had little, but that hadn't weighed heavily on him. Life was too beautiful for that. And it was too beautiful to dwell on that star now — to sit here and hope that Ryūjin was safe from what Aquila may or may not have in store for it. And he knew in his heart that Asterr felt the same. From what he had seen, she prioritised the present as it stood now, and her plans for the future were optimistic and rational.
He turned his silver eyes from the sky to gaze down upon the small female, who, despite her youth, looked as regal as ever in the growing starlight. Noctura listened to her words with interest. A vessel
, he repeated, finding it a curious word to describe creatures such as Asterr who could speak with dragon deities. I wonder who came before you
. It was a question, but worded in such a way that avoided tying her to obligation. She did not have to answer. They prioritised the present, after all.
A long while had passed since she'd truly delved into the workings of her place of birth, as well as the pact her family had long since formed with Draco. Every now and again, she would perhaps let slip a small portion of information, but to truly divulge so much as she was currently contemplating doing had not happened since she'd left home. She would not be understood, or no one was interested—two excuses she'd often given to herself. In fact, neither were what truly held her back. Rather, it was her lack of trust in those around her to hold dear to such knowledge, as if they could never harbour feelings so strong for her culture unless they'd been born into it. Though, as she sat there alongside Noctura, she could feel the ease of her mind. She was certain that he would understand, perhaps more so than anyone else, and that telling to him of the vessels would not be an awful idea. Maybe it might even be a brilliant one. And so, she'd glanced to him one final time, only to then stare up at the sky above.
"My grandmother," she'd revealed, starting off with the simplest of answers to his question. "Before my birth, it was my grandmother who served as the vessel, the sole connection to our god. Throughout the history of my family, it has always been females that are born with the gift—with the grandest of purposes life could ever offer." Her brothers had never stood a chance, nor, really, had her sisters. It was always meant to be her. Since so long ago, when her birth had been foreseen by the great dragon himself, it was she who was destined to be connected to him. Until the day came in which she was too weak to support his might or far too near to death, it would be she who served as his connection to the physical plane. "Since the beginning of time itself, my family has existed. Some say we walked the earth even when the dragons still claimed this plane as their own, but not all believe such a tale. Ever since the beginning, a pact has existed between my family and Draco, one of which that is forever honoured. Each time a vessel becomes too frail or dies off, another that has been predetermined is born into the world. Since the start of life, it has been this way, and never will things change." They couldn't, is more like it, for no one wished for them to. How things currently stood, the contract that existed, it made positive that both parties remained equally satisfied.
Slowly, her muzzle moved down, looking ahead of her rather than to the stars overhead. Like that she'd remained for a few moments, allowing him an opportunity to process that which had been shared. Soon, she'd directed her gaze back to him, poise as always in the way she moved. "Someday, when I am of age, I will perhaps bear the next vessel. Though, truthfully, it is more likely that I will only grandmother the one that follows me. Even still, there is honour that comes with that. It is a reason for why the branch families are so often envious of my own—the main family." Rare was it for someone not of the main branch to be born the serving vessel, for often they were neither as strong nor wise. They simply did not possess the necessary traits that Draco required of each vessel.
The stargazer listened with a most attentive and curious interest. Asterr's story was inherently fascinating, for while he'd heard a dozen stories of beliefs and cultures, never had he heard one as ancient and revered as her own. He took her word for it, naturally, having never believed for a moment that this was something that dwelled within her own mind only (such would be a terrible revelation), and found himself interested in her homeland. The magic that ran through there must be astonishing, and the disciples who walked that world must be full of serious talk of dragons, legend and duty. So the fact that he'd never experienced all this for himself meant that all Noctura's knowledge of such a world came from Asterr. And thus Asterr herself was that world.
And Noctura was a part of it.
He intended to ask, at some point, how the lineage had been so maintained. A line that went back as far as time itself was a magnificent claim, and it seemed kept in tact despite a life full of wild dangers, natural threats and inevitable discord. The fact that Asterr was the latest in this delicately surviving line made her nothing short of invaluable. He'd dare not touch her...
But instead of asking about this line, Noctura instead observed what she was expressing. I've encountered so many wolves who shirk from their responsibilities, either afraid or reluctant to become what they're fated to be. But you, Asterr,
he gazed down at her with an affectionate respect in his silver eyes, I'm certain now that Aquila — the constellation of discord — doesn't shine for you, because I see that you aren't conflicted about your past. It seems to me that, like so few, you've risen to your title — you've accepted who you are. You yourself are in possession of who you're meant to be.
Seclusion was the factor to give thanks to when admiring the long-standing Draconid line. To themselves the tribe had kept for generations upon generations, many leaving only in order to bring back for themselves a spouse of approved credentials, while others sat back in wait for the elders to arrange for them a lover. To travel far beyond the tribe's claim had been considered taboo in older times, yet presently it was looked upon under neutral lighting. Few favoured the idea, some were appalled by it, but the majority viewed it as a decision each individual possessed the privilege of making on their own. Neither choice was good nor bad, for such labels were far too broad for any one being to assign. Still, if not for the ancient ways their ancestors had established and maintained, not a single one would be there to be able to make such choices in life, and so many would honour the historic beliefs in spirit. To their home they would remain forever loyal, their soul tied to it for all of eternity, even if their body had traveled miles away.
Towards her companion her gaze had lingered, attentive as he spoke. His words were kind and, as had he been since the very beginning, Noctura was generous with his given compliments. They were true, his claims, and within her his voice resonated, warming her on the inside. "You are always so benevolent when we speak," the girl noted, a soft smile pulling at her lips, only for her gaze to then be drawn towards the starry eagle. "I trust your words, Noctura, and will believe that they are pure and true. Though for whom the stars shine for, I pity." Would they even see it coming? If danger was to descend down upon another individual or group, would they be prepared? For the sake of innocent lives, she hoped so, but could not bring herself to ensure so. For at the male's side she wished to remain for the entirety of the night, and beyond her claim she would not stray to assist those unknown to her. As long as her beloved home continued to be for them a safe haven, she was not worried.
Shall we fade this one now that we have another? <3
Benevolence was not a word he'd heard spoken about himself... though he did recollect, dimly, something once said about him in the days of Crunch. Back then, young Noctura had been a deadly beast, but his intents always paled in comparison to those of the dark father. Someone had once said this, deeming Noctura some kind of angel next to the devil that was Crunch. This had been a spat "compliment", of course, for he too had been filled with instinctive bloodlust. He had been the best of a bad bunch. But what Asterr spoke now was a comment that his behaviour was
true benevolence, and at this he could not find a reply. He simply felt it and was grateful.
Benevolent, pure and true...
He spoke so much of her, and she trusted him and took his words as strength, but when she spoke of him he was learning something. Asterr was his guide, and had been from the moment they'd met.
Their silver eyes considered the stars once more, and she concluded with hope or caution. That darkening star was shining for someone, and she pitied them.
As do I
, he agreed softly. It did not shine for them.
Sure! ^^ Last post from me~
Never had Asterr seen him under the rule of his father, nor had she seen of those from the place he'd grown in. Yet, that did not matter, for she knew him now and knew him to be good. He was a kind soul, intrigued by magic and drawn towards the stars. The fears he'd once had, the lack of trust he'd felt in himself, were things she could no longer see, for in her mind he'd long since overcome it all. For beneath the stars they sat in peace, gazing up and considering them, while pitying those with discord in their future. No feral beast driven by instincts alone could ever feel in such a way towards another, and she'd wondered if he might realize that. Yet, the girl said nothing, leaving the discovery as his to make, for it had always been he who was in need of convincing. From the very beginning, she'd seen only good in him, and never would that change.
Next to him was where she would remain, admiring those that shined within the sky and eyeing the star eagle every now and again. There she would remain, too, until the need to sleep grew so strong that she'd be lured away from his side. Only then would the yearling take her leave, wishing to him a night of wonders while she slumbered beneath the stars.