[identity profile] tekia.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] tamingthemuse
Title: Moon and Stars
Fandom: original/Exalted
Prompt: Transformation
Warnings: mentions of incest
Rating: PG 13
Summary: Kiwi lost someone dear, but so did he.

Kiwi sat under the bright moon sitting high in the sky, liberally sprinkled with stars. She leaned heavily on her hands as she leaned back to stare up at the unending night, letting her mind clear of all problems and worries of the day, of her life.
She was tired, but she couldn’t stop her quest. Her heart lurched at the mere thought of quitting, of going home and retiring to half a life. A life without the love of her life. A life without happiness. Her hands clenched into fists, digging into the dirt. What happened to her dear brother, her lover?
One day they were happy, the next, she was a freak of nature- Chosen- and he was missing, never heard of nor seen again. Tears gathered in her eyes as she fought against the pain building up behind her eyes as memories tried to resurface. She couldn’t face what she feared to be true, so she took a deep breath and shoved those thoughts away. Her eyes closed and she focused on breathing, only breathing. Just like her new mentor and her old teachers had taught her.
Before jumping off the stand, reaching for the swinging bar of the trapeze, breath. Before walking out on a thin rope above hundreds of visitors, breath. Before shouting into the loud speaker, breath. Before using the magic welled deep within her body, breath. Breath. Breath before the memories overtake her and leave her without the will to go on.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and discovered that he had joined her. He was standing under the shade of a tree, dark shadows fighting to hold him like a lover. Her lips quirked at that thought. The man was born of starlight, it shown in his eyes, but darkness and shadows clung to him as if he were one of their own, like a jealous lover.
He didn’t seem to ever notice, as he walked closer to her, the soft breeze lifting his hair from his shoulders and the fabric of his changshan from his legs. He always wore such bright colors that she wanted to take him home to her family and put him on stage. He was a born dancer, she guessed. He moved like water, graceful and flowing.
He smiled at her when he realized that he was intruding on her solitude, but she knew he knew she had been here from the moment he set out from their camp. He sought her out but acted as if hadn’t.
She knew nothing about him, but she could read him like a book. He couldn’t tell a lie if his life depended on it. How had he survived through all that she’d heard he had?
“Jade,” he greeted.
“Kiwi, please,” she insisted. Jade was the name they had given her after her transformation from normal human into … this. Missionary? Hunter? He should call her Kiwi, because he wasn’t them, and because he was something else entirely than anything- anybody- she had ever known.
His skin was so dark, like milk laced coffee and appeared even darker next to her pearl white skin that had never learned to like the sun. His hair was pure black, sprinkled with purple stripes that he didn’t seem to realize made him into something exotic to his own race. Her hair was longer than his, longer than anybody else’s, but his was wore longer than most as well, swinging down to his waist freely, rigidly kept away from his neck where his high cloth collar hid another collar of another sort. She’d seen it once when he was debating with the others and things had gotten out of hand. She’d asked about it, not from him, but from those that would know.
Her questions had been ignored and she let drop. It was his secret, that much was clear. He always wore it, but hid it away, like he was ashamed of the beautiful artwork she had glimpsed.
He smoothly lowered himself to the ground beside her and she smirked as she bet that people were often surprised that such a beautiful man would easily sit in the dirt without a care to his person nor clothing, as expensive as it was.
He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky, not to the moon as she did, but to the stars. His connection to heaven, not hers. A smile flickered over his lips before he turned his bright yellow eyes, cat eyes, to her.
“I’ve looked at the stars and read what they had to say.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest, fighting to burst free. She had to blink wetness out of her eyes and lick her lips before she could reply.
“What did you learn?”
He leaned close to her, close enough that she could smell him. A musk that reminded her that he was indeed a man despite his lithe body and graceful movements. His hand covered her own and he whispered to her.
“I learned that the moon is forever brighter than the stars.”
She choked on a sob, her free hand coming up to fist against her lips, a physical movement that couldn’t stop the sound from escaping despite her efforts. She bowed her head and suddenly his arms were around her, holding her like a mother holding a child. She clung to him, her whole body shivering as she gulped down the cries of despair.
“W-what does that even mean?”
His hand rubbed her back, his fingers warm despite the chill of the night. “Jade- Kiwi,” he corrected himself for the first time with her name, “you have a destiny that nobody can interfere with. It is written.”
She shoved him away and threw herself to her feet, eyes blazing with tears and anger. He looked up at her, his hair suddenly tasseled and stands flowing over his brow into his face. His lips were parted and she realized that he wasn’t wearing his mask. He always wore that mask of paint so bright that nobody could see his face clearly. What he was wearing was a thick band of dark paint over his cheeks, touching from ear to ear, and a blush of color over his eyes. A warrior’s mask.
Her hand returned to her mouth, stifling her voice as she looked down at him looking up at her. Her anger left her and she lowered herself to the ground once again, facing him properly. Gingerly, she reached out and brushed his hair from his face. His eyes followed her hand as she tucked the hair behind one ear and she smiled to see gold earrings lining the lobe.
“I love him,” she said, her voice catching so that she had to swallow before she could go on. “I don’t want to live a life without him.”
His eyes widened and his lips thinned as he cast a look back at the camp. Had he experienced the same type of love? He lowered his eyes to his hands, now folded in his lap. She couldn’t read his face suddenly. The book was closed. Did he know of a love so intense? His fingers were rubbing a band of gold around his finger, one of many.
“They’re human,” he said softly. “They die.”
She slapped him before she realized she wanted to. His head turned to the side, but still he didn’t look at her. Licked his lips, then: “She was human.” She watched him swallow, hard as guilt flooded her. Before she could say aught, he went on. “She died. It was my fault.” His eyes met hers. “I killed her with my ignorance. I didn’t know, but I should have.”
He reached out and rested a hand on her head, fingers threading through her hair as he petted her, tracing her head, then face, cupping her chin and a thumb rubbed away a tear on her cheek. “You should know.”
She shook her head. Slowly, stubbornly. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She can’t. She sniffed back emotion and held his gaze.
“I need to be blind.”
He smiled and nodded. “So did I.” His eyes closed and he smiled a smile that wasn’t meant for her. His hand dropped from her face and back to his lap. He was staring at his hands again when he said, “But I couldn’t hide forever. I couldn’t be like that, even though I wanted to.” His voice was thin and it sent a shiver down her spine.
They were the same, him and her. They reacted the same way to their problems. He overcame it, was forced to by his very nature. She wasn’t so strong. She willfully let her mind fight against her. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close, just as he had done for her moments ago.
He wasn’t stiff in her arms, but neither did he encourage their embrace. His was for soothing a crying child, hers wasn’t. Could he read her as well as she thought she could read him?
Did it matter?
Her mind made up, she touched her nose to his, her brow to his and forced him to look at her. He didn’t want to, wanted her to leave him be, but she wouldn’t.
She smiled at him and let him see her at her most selfish. She was. Selfish.
“Mine,” she told him, and he shook his head, eyes condemning her for her flaw. She didn’t care. Her mind was made up and this is what it had decided. She nodded and pulled away.
“Yes.” She stood and looked down at him. He came with baggage and a stubbornness that rivaled her own. It didn’t matter. She had decided.
He sighed and stood, bending down to slap dirt from his clothes. Shook his head. Walked away from her.
She let him go, knowing that she had decided that he was now her clan, her tribe. Her kindred spirit.

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