Work Text:
Pierro looked up at the night sky before him, bent as if kneeling, dark as if reeling from sights unsightly to the eyes of the stars.
He reached out a hand, as if to sweep all the stars into the cradle of his palm.
"How beautiful."
Pierro could snuff out galaxies, but even then, the stars would mourn the harbingers’ light, shining like a funeral.
Useless theatrics. Who pitied each other more, the harbingers below zero or the stars above grace?
Pierro closed his fist harshly, snuffing out all the stars.
But the real pity?
It was all a lie.