Work Text:
house lights shone dimly below me in the small town i once called my home. yellow pinpricks of light, squares of warmth and shelter, glass windows shielding the glow from escaping to the outside.
but really, what it was being prevented from escaping to was me. to the grassy hill that dug into my thighs and clawed at my palms—and my hands that closed on fistfuls of brush, clawing right back. i inhaled deeply, drawing in whatever i could of the scene before me, houselights or not.
i had my own lights anyway.
if i were to describe them, i might say the stars fell on the city like a blanket, if they did such a thing. however, tonight the stars instead were hung high above in the ceiling of the night, caring for no man and no thing. they didn’t fall on anything at all, they just stood as they always had, strong and brightly, defiant against the fake stars below. they knew they were real, they would always be real.
up here, far above the city, i wondered: was i a real star? logic told me i couldn’t be, i had no light. my only light came from the other stars, from the twinkling ones above and the ever flooding ones below.
next to me, i knew the glowing star i loved might tell me that i was a real one despite that. and despite that, i knew that he was real, and even encased in metal armour he glowed despite everything. i couldn’t see him, sure, but i knew he was somewhere in there.
of course, it didn’t notice my look. it was too entranced by the lovely scene, by the stars both new and old, to pay attention. it seemed that was something we had in common, one thing i could count on to bring us together.
i remember, way back as a little kid, sitting on this same hill, tears dotting my face like tiny stars of their own. wishing to be large enough and glow bright enough that someone would notice, like i did. wishing that maybe someone far away on another planet would gaze up and see me and feel my presence in some way, and maybe the same way i felt a presence right then, looking at the sky. i remember feeling oddly, as if something could see me.
and something could in dim carcosa where the stars truly did blanket its city and the seas were always dark with the absence of their light from above
seas crashing waves crashing crashing crashing onto a beach where i sat and shouted and screamed soundlessly while it wiped any evidence of me away
i shiver, a cold coming over my skin and sending goosebumps travelling up my arms and down my neck. my outfit was the same as it had been the days before, i assumed, even not remembering those days as i was. it was always the same clothes and i never knew why, and now i was cold and these clothes would do nothing to keep me warm.
i try ignoring the feeling. distracting myself. it’s pretty out, i say to my knight, trying to start a conversation. he doesn’t respond. he never does.
it was no use. sighing gently, i watch the city.
i watch as a carriage shudders down the road on the street, a tiny speck, and i watch it as it weaves through traffic, not minding the cars and the cars not minding it. impossibly, i can see the driver from here, i can see the driver’s mottled face concentrated on the road.
and the driver’s eyes turn to me. directly to me, from so far away. i watch and the man is ruined, decayed as if he has spent a century in a grave and has only now decided to reemerge, and i watch and blink my eyes, trying to wash dirt away with my eyelashes for spades, each blink wiping him away until there is no man in the carriage and then there is no carriage at all.
i turn to my knight, still blinking, and then stop as to not dig him away too. did he see that? could he? no, he didn’t, he couldn’t. his gaze is still plastered to the sky, watching the stars, unmoving.
i relax a little bit, enough to feel comfortable enough to look back at the city. if he wasn’t worried, i wouldn’t be. there was no reason for worry without his worry.
a crash sends my heart into a panic. booms sound above me, like bombs whistling through the air, and for a second, i’m scared that at any moment the hill will erupt in flame and i will finally burn up.
another boom sends out its shockwaves, and now i see where it is coming from. golden fireworks, exploding in the sky like they belonged there, smoke snaking into the air, spreading its tendrils and stretching so thin it became invisible, until a new firework sparked and the smoke rose again.
and it rose everywhere, and worst of all, it rose without a care for what it was covering.
the bursts of yellow crash their way into the sky, drowning out the twinkling lights. i reach an arm up, try to swat the smoke out of the sky, but it’s no use, and the bombs all continue to burst.
the explosions are cheery, but in a fake way, like a grin plastered onto someone without a real face to wear it. i turn my head to derek, but he’s gazing up just as if nothing had happened, as if the fire show wasn’t going on at all and the crystalline sky was cool and calm. the bursts of light don’t even seem to penetrate his armour; the yellow flashes leave him a dark blotch in an illuminated field, as if his armour refuses to acknowledge the presence of them at all.
i crawl on my knees to sit right next to him, to raise an arm to his face and draw his gaze to me. it feels like every time we’re like this, sitting so close, close enough to touch, this keeps happening. he will never look at me, he will never acknowledge me, and i can’t continue ignoring it. he needs to look at me.
look at me!
his head whips to mine, and i think i catch a glimpse of eyes behind his mask.
his mask. and on the mask, a sign.
the sign.
have you seen the yellow sign yet? an omen of what is to and come and a warning of what it is hiding and a threat and a curse and a blessing all rolled into one
have you seen the yellow sign yet? that marks and takes and never gives except what it wants and what it wants it takes to give away
have you seen the yellow sign yet? it flashes through space and whispers in corners and crawls out of words like an omen like a breath like death itself
have you seen the yellow sign yet? because surely it has seen you
i let out a shuddering breath and try to back away from it, but its arms lash out and grab hold of me, steel grip refusing to let me go. it doesn’t look away, and now i can see only when the light booms that inside his terrible helmet is a mask of darkness, and inside of that mask are two eyes, piercing into me. i squirm in its grip, gasp as the blade of its gaze cuts into my cheek.
the side of my face stings. it wells up with dark, golden blood, flashing: yellow-black, yellow-black, yellow-black. his fingers release me and i tumble onto the ground, and the fingers of the grass take me up instead, curling spikes sticking to me, taking me prisoner on a hill i once found comfort in.
his body is silhouetted by the fireworks, seemingly drawing closer. the presence i had felt before, as a child, now overwhelms me. i can’t look it in the eyes.
it was the king, it was here, it had come to take me.
i knew now that i stood both before the king and my knight, inside the same shell. how had i not noticed before? but how could i have? half was a being so knowing i could not dream about it.
but half of it was my knight.
the form inside the armour looks at me with anticipation, curiosity. it is waiting to see what i do next.
before the king, i knelt. before my knight, i cried. both creatures watched both things happen through both eyes, and both minds reached simultaneous conclusions, both of a different sort but with the same solution.
and my knight raises his sword, pulling it from its sheath of icy cold smoke and raising it to my neck. i feel the sharp edge press through my skin.
but i am not worried. my blood flows gold with the constant light, and it shines especially brightly in the reflection of the pristine blade.
the firework show is nearly over by now, i am sure it has to be. the sky is more fire than it is atmosphere, the smoke replacing the clouds and the sparks replacing the stars. and still, people in the city below go on through their nights, oblivious and uncaring.
the blade digs in further, and i let it. his arm twists, the blade circles around my neck, and i let it. i let it dig until it’s satisfied, until it pulls away and drops from his grasp. the blade clatters soundlessly onto the hill. it pins a small flower beneath it.
he glances down at the sword at his feet, golden with my blood, and then back up at me. a dripping halo of light fitted around my neck. and then his knees buckle, he falls to my level with a cry, he puts his head down in my lap and i do nothing to console him.
i stare at the flower, pinned beneath the sword. the sweet flower, black-yellow. what colour was it really?
it was blue.
how did i know? i know everything, of course.
with a final, resounding scream, the sky flashes into dark. i stand up, and the knight’s head slides to the grass, his body shaking as if he were freezing to death. i pay him no mind and step away, turn around to view my city through newly christened eyes.
there is a tug on my leg, and i look over disinterestedly at the bumbling knight; the idiot who knew too much for his own good. i shake his hand off my leg and gaze back over my city.
a grin crosses my mask of a face. the stars had been blown from their perches and now they blanketed the world, my world. now i gazed down at carcosa reborn and i could see my people enter the streets of their new homes. now i gazed up at the empty sky and saw my throne.
a man is staring at me from inside of a carriage. he gives me a bow.
now the knight’s sword pierces my ankle, and i look at him again, shake the blade away. give him back to me, take me instead, he is saying, propping himself up on shaking elbows, and i do not even consider the offer. he will have his own place in my world, just as my vessel does.
the crashing of waves play against the wind like a song, against the rocky coast of the city buildings as the world is eroded and comes crashing down. all things must be destroyed in order to be rebuilt, and i would rebuild this city in my image.
please! he grips me by the collar and whips me around, shaking me desperately. avery, i know you’re in there.
he is. but he cannot act. i have made sure of it.
and i can’t reach my knight! no matter how hard i try, no matter how hard i shake and scream, it’s as if am trapped. it’s as if he cannot hear me at all, like he’s in a box and i’m pounding at the outside futility.
maybe i’m the one inside a box. maybe the world was inside a large box, and my knight was the only person free.
i shake him harder.
why can’t you just take me? take me! the knight shouts as he drops me to the ground and picks his sword back up, the blood on its surface dark but not yet dry. i watch him, intrigued, amused.
the knight rips off his helmet with shaking hands and throws it at my feet. he forces the blade into my hands and with all of his force weaves the blade around his own neck. he is painting himself a halo of his own. i smile and let it happen.
when he releases the hilt, i let the sword swing down, holding it loosely in one hand. the mark around his neck is crude, it is jagged and ugly and not at all fit for a king.
his neck drips red, red blood. there are no lights in the sky at all. the lights in the city have long flickered out. there is no trick of the night to help him pretend.
take me. he raises his hands to his neck. raises his palms to the sky. raises his blood to the stars.
but there are no stars left.
i do not dignify his behaviour with a response. it’s amusing and nothing more. i watch as his face contorts in emotions of every type, watch his arms drop, watch his eyes search the void for anything at all.
there are no stars left. there are no hopes. there is only the hill.
i turn away, start to walk down the hill to my city. the transformation is nearly complete, the buildings have been swept away and replaced by mountainous waves, which too have been swept away and leave a smooth canvas beneath.
behind me, the knight is sobbing. he will get over it. they always do.
you knew it was futile, i have my vessel remind him. you knew. yet you still tried.
he chokes on his own words, so emotional it makes my vessel’s gut churn. how could i not? his hands grip a small flower in the grass, dripping his tears and his blood and dry flecks of my own blood. why wouldn’t i? knowing isn’t the same as trying.
the knight is very amusing. perhaps he could be a jester in my soon-to-be court.
finally, my pounding seem to break through the glass, to let the light flood through and see me. my knight lets out a gasp, and i let out a gasp, and i blink and i’m standing on the edge of the hill watching a crumbling city with him behind me on his knees.
i turn back to it one last time, back to my knight. it looks at me, sees behind the mask the king has placed over me, and smiles. i smile back, one last time.
my smile widens, enough that the knight frowns again. this was a clever vessel, strong.
you can give him back, the knight whispers, so quiet my ears can’t register. but i hear. just give him back…
my tongue clicks with pity for the knight. i can’t do that.
he curls further into himself, but he is not smaller. you won’t.
i smile. yes, i won’t.
i stand up and leave the knight in the grass, bleeding and sobbing onto the blue flowers, underneath the starless sky, dark waves crashing all around.
i walk towards our new home.