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There was something before, but it does not matter now. That something before was good at hunting, and cave painting, and slept beneath the stars with others that were like it, and unlike it. Some of the animals that were here before don't exist now. He misses them.
The God-handed Emperor Witness All had eyes that betrayed his age. Few had known him before taking the throne, but the prior king had discerned his virtue and wisdom, passing on the royal mantle without hostility. Though susceptible to alternating moods of both kindness and cruelty, he was a good king, and kept the land from falling to disaster or strife. Those who served beneath him would observe that he always looked at things with an odd glint of familiarity, that he would speak of events he had not been present with such vivid recollection. Such was often the case with the ruling line, a sign of God's favour, so it was said, and if any thought otherwise, they stayed silent. In the end, it would be written that he was a beloved king, for despite his fickleness, such that he would silently refuse a meal or dress that had been prepared for him one night and accept it the next, he held a great fondness for his people and their history. He would ask kindly for the past of those he met, and he would smile to see them again many years later, and he would invite his court to join him beneath the open sky at night, where his love for the stars shone clear across his face.
After the nine-tailed came to his land, he was judged, defaced, and thrown to Blue Hell to rot at the age of five hundred. A fairly young death for the mirage. So would his scribes record his passing, and the end of Warring Faiths era.
The beggar Gruesome Sight had eyes that betrayed his age, such that it was hard to read his true emotions as he panhandled for food and money, strolling the same streets as all. His permanent smile, and the hand that made his tail showed his true lineage. The scars and the filth that had sunken into his skin were the only indicators of his age. The children feared him, for he had no shame in eating whatever was put close to his hands, be it living or not. Thus was he nicknamed "Insect eater" or "Rot eater", and after too long in one place they would throw rocks and spoiled food at him, warning of the violence that would follow should he not leave them be. He always looked back, of course, to see the faces of those who dared to punish him. Most believed his glare was out of contempt, or fear, but some of the tailed, those beneath the mirage who grew up, and grew old, those same tailed that saw their fellow friends and siblings dying while only they remained, now see Gruesome Sight begging for food from their porch. They know, now, that Gruesome Sight looked back to remember those children out of duty, and they too, shall be remembered by Gruesome Sight once they go. Some tailed watch him for a while, as he sits beneath the star-filled sky, and speaks little. At home, they leave a plate of food for him to collect. That's the village's tradition, now.
A metaparxi sits by the bed, looking down at the floor.
"Pumpkin," he says. Sometimes he does this. Sometimes he stops everything and just looks down, as if he was pouting. People think my little mooncake is as smart as it gets but… He doesn't like thinking. He doesn't like thinking at all. He never told me any of his regrets, but sometimes it feels like every time he tries to remember something, the whole world weighs on him.
"Yes, babe?"
"I'm tired. I'm… Very tired."
I hold mooncake's hand. His fur is beautiful, but if you look closely, there's scars. I never asked about them, but I know they're there. I know they exist.
"Let's go for a trip. I'll drive, babe."
We stop by a gas station. I get a few snacks and smokes. He's never been a fan of anything too artificial, but I like to think he doesn't mind it too much as long it's with me. I drive for a couple more hours. I don't turn on the radio until we stop. Keys are still in the ignition. We're in the middle of a grassfield. We sit on the roof of the car as I open a bag of chips and light a smoke. We're far from civilization. There's no artificial lights around. Just you, I, the stars and whatever the radio puts on.
Part of me knows I won't be there for you forever, my mooncake, but
I love you.