Prompt# 294 - Ares - Under Starlight - Tekia - Original

[tekia.livejournal.com]

Title: Under Starlight
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Ares
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: Nazca was cursed by the stars. He hid himself away from the world, thinking that nobody would ever find him in the middle of nowhere.

Nazca used to have long hair.
It had been tradition, hadn’t it? His hair had been down to his waist once, black as night. He used to wear a headband around his brow to keep it out of his eyes and a bit of leather half way down to keep it from tangling.
His father had black hair too, and so did his mother, but his brother had brown hair. Their whole family had worn their hair long. Heck, their whole race did.
Nazca bit his lip and shoved away the small round mirror.
It was stupid, but the thing he missed the most about his past was his hair. He ran a hand through the short locks and left his small bedroom. Sunlight poured into the main room of the small cabin from the open front door and he ducked his head out to peer into the morning.
The landscape was the same as always, a vast stretch of yellow sand and black rocks as far as the eye could see, bisected only by the thin stone road that had been built by a race of people that had long ago abandoned this land. He nodded to himself, content that he would not be bothered this day, and went back inside, out of the blazing sunlight and into the shadow of the cabin.
He had a small well blessed by magic that promised him fresh water for as long as he took care of the etched spells. He pulled up a bucket up and splashed the mostly warm water over his face. A second bucket of water was brought into the kitchen and put on the fire to warm. He left the water and propped open the windows, letting in the hard light. He smiled at the soft brush of air against his skin.
Dawn was his favorite. The sun turned the desert into a furnace just yet, and the sky was still soft with night. Now, that time had passed and the heat of the desert was pressing down, but Nazca didn’t mind it so much. He had long ago grown used to the heat, to the never ending dryness.
He sat back in his sole chair and gazed out at the bleached sands and pale sky. How long had he been exiled here? More time had passed than he could count, most of it he spent sleeping. When he had first come to this land, it had been much wetter, cooler, and greener. As the time went by unnoticed, the land had changed around him. There was nothing left of that time, only the faint traces of the people that had once lived here.
And him.
He was still here. Always here, locked away from his world and forbidden from entering the human world.
The water began boiling, jarring Nazca from his thoughts. He went about preparing a meal of herbs and the weak vegetables that he was able to grow from his small lot of soil. Once, he would have had meat to add to the pot, but that time had long passed.
He left the soup to simmer and went outside. In the far distance, a grey smudge marked the end of the desert and the beginning of the mountains that separated the desert and the human world. Once there had been a road well-travelled , but no human had followed that road in such a long time.
Nazca hadn’t seen a human in so very long, that when he does see one, it’s always a surprise. He narrowed his eyes, placing one hand over his brow to offer a bit of shade.
It was only one human, walking. Stumbling. Nazca watched as the human painfully made its way ever closer. The human was headed directly for Nazca’s cabin. He frowned.
His cabin was so very far out. So very far off the beaten path, how had this human found him?
He ducked into the cabin, the cool shadows instantly offering relief from the midday heat. He filled a bottle of water for the stranger and then found a hat to cover his ears. Humans got odd around non-humans. Once his ears were out of sight, he stepped back outside and found the human even closer, still stubbornly waking closer.
Nazca waited.
When the human caught sight of him, he stalled, his body wavering a moment before he caught his balance.
“You are the Nazca?”
Nazca tilted his head to one side. The language hadn’t changed, but the cadence had. “The Nazca?”
The man nodded and pulled his hat from his head. “The Nazca that these lands are named after.”
“They named the land after me? Foolish humans. Why would you do that?”
The human shook his head and nearly tipped over with the effort. Nazca stepped forward and offered him the bottle. For a moment, the human blinked down at the bottle as if he didn’t know what it was, then he took it and drank deeply, water spilling down his chin. Gasping for breath, he wiped his mouth and stared at Nazca.
“These lands have been called Nazca Desert for centuries. Everybody told me you were a myth, but here you are.”
Nazca waved to the bottle. “Keep it, and leave. There is nothing here.”
“You are.” The man stepped closer, hand reaching out for him. “You’re real.”
Nazca glared at him over his shoulder. “Forget about me. Let me be a myth. Go back the way you came.”
Nazca ducked back into his cabin. He could hear the human following him and he sighed heavily. He turned to face the man standing in his doorway. “I don’t want you here.”
“I came to ask a boon from the god of the desert.”
“God? Are you insane?” He ripped his hat off his head and glared. “I am no god. Leave here.”
The man’s eyes widened and, too late, Nazca remembered his ears. “You’re not human.”
Nazca sighed and dropped down to a chair. “What do you want?”
The man became a burst of energy as he quickly stepped into the cabin, pulled out a chair across from Nazca, and sat. “Legend says that you know magic.”
Nazca snorted. Humans and their lust for magic. “Not really. What do you want?”
The man began twisting his hands before him. “My daughter is ill. She’s dying and I’ve come to you to beg of you: Save her, please.”
Nazca sighed and dropped down into his chair. He ran a hand though his hair, once more noticing the absence of the length. The one thing humans craved over magic would be companionship. Love conquers all, and all that.
He hid his face in his hands a moment before he shook his head. “No, listen. I cannot magic her better, nor can I save her from her fate. You’ve wasted your time here. Leave.”
The man dropped to his knees and reached out. “Please. I know you can! You have lived for so long, surely you know something that can help.”
“Surely you should know that the myths are always more than the man.” Nazca stood. “Leave her. Spend time with your child before it’s lost.”
The man stood as well. “What can I do to convince you?”
“Nothing.” He reached out and pulled the pot off the fire and waved a hand over it to dispel the steam. He scooped up a bowlful and shoved it into the man’s hand. “I cannot help you.”
The man blinked down at the thin soup, his mouth opening and closing without a sound passing his lips. Watching him, Nazca felt something like pity welling up in his chest. He placed one hand on the man’s shoulder.
“I’m only a man, myself. Myth be damned. I know no magic, nor am I a god.”
“You’re immortal.”
Nazca shook his head. “I have lived a long life, but I am not immortal.” He directed the man to the chair and motioned to the soup again. “Eat. Then you should leave.”
The man nodded and Nazca turned away. The human was tired, but Nazca wasn’t going to let him stay. Humans caused trouble. He didn’t want trouble.
He sent the human on his way before the sun was fully set, watching him go until he was a small speck on the horizon. Then he shoved him from his mind. And he tried to ignore the sorrow he felt for the child that was going to die because he was exiled from the human world.
Then he did shove it all from his mind. He focused on going through the motions of living. Cleaning up the sand that entered the cabin, tending the small plot of soil and fighting to bring about some sort of edible vegetables. As usual, he lost himself in this life that he had eked out.
Then, not long after the human left, Nazca spotted another. He held his breath as he watched the spot slowly grow, something settling in his belly as he realized that it was the same human. He had returned.
The stupid human had returned.
Hissing with irritation, Nazca retreated into the cabin and closed the massive front door and windows, turning the inside into an oven. He sat in the soft glow of the small fire he kept, waiting.
The knock nearly startled him. He stood and opened the door, narrowing his eyes against the bright glow of the late afternoon sun. “I told you not to come back.”
“No, you told me to leave.” The man smiled and shifted until he could reach something tied to his back. Nazca gaped as a young girl woke up and blinked bright blue eyes at him. The human set his daughter on her feet and she leaned heavily against his leg. “This is my daughter, Starla.”
“Why did you bring her here?” Nazca couldn’t tear his eyes from the girl. “I cannot help her.” He could see what was wrong with her. Maybe once, long ago, he could have healed her, but not now. Not so far away from his people. So far out of time.
The man shrugged. “There was nothing left for us back there. So we came here. If you can’t help us, then perhaps we can help you.” He rested a hand on the little girl’s shoulder and smiled down at her. “Right, Starla?”
The girl nodded, her bright eyes on Nazca.
“What do you mean?”
“Our people have nothing that can help us. I’ve searched far and wide for help, but I’ve found nothing. Only you. We’ll stay with you.”
Nazca shook his head. “No, you can’t. There’s no room.” He retreated into the dark cabin and toward the dying fire. He heard the humans follow.
Stay here? With him?
Humans?
He shook his head again. “No, no. You must leave.”
The little girl climbed into the chair and took her time looking around the kitchen. “Why do you live so far away from the world?”
Nazca turned and stared at the girl. She had folded her hands on the table and had a smile on her parted lips that showed a gap between her front two teeth.
“I’m cursed.”
“By who?” the man asked. He had dropped his bag on the floor near the door and leaned against the frame.
“By my people, by the stars.”
Starla’s head tilted to one side that Nazca had realized she must have learned from her father; he had seen the man do it before. “How did the stars curse you? They’re so far away.”
“They weren’t always. There was a time not long ago that they lived among us. We worked with them and they were as we are. Living.”
“People?”
“Yes, people.”
“What is your curse?” Nazca turned his eyes to the man. He was tall for a human, and wore his hair short, much shorter than Nazca’s. He had the same bright blue eyes as his daughter, but where her hair was light brown, his was black. He had a dark shadow marking where he hadn’t shaved for days on his lower face.
“Why are you really here?” Nazca put the table between the humans and himself. “Do not lie to me, human.”
“Majid. My name is Majid.”
Nazca shook his head. “Why?”
He shrugged. “What star is your curse under?”
“Ares, the brightest star in the night sky.”
“Isn’t that a planet?” Starla asked, her head turned to her father. “Called Mars now?”
“That’s right.”
“Mars?” Nazca asked.
Majid smiled. “You have been out of the world for quite a while. We call the planets by their roman names now.”
Nazca stared, nonplused. “That’s not an answer to my question.”
“Like I said,” Majid said, finally pushing away from the wall. “There’s nothing else out there for us. There is no other help to be had save for what you can offer us.”
“Which is none.”
Majid smiled softly. “It may be more if we can break this curse of yours.”