Work Text:
The world was full of wayward paths, a thousand, hundred thousand, of them to follow to a destination.
It was them who needed to shine a path forwards to the, their Sinners, show them what they long for and let them reach for it as far as they possibly could, bringing them back again and again so death itself could not drag them away from their paths.
And yet in some respects they needed guidance too, from those red mournful eyes that stood immovable and were yet so warm. From those they considered even closer yet each passing month, telling them of the things they did not know and filling their empty mind with memories and fondness. From those with unknown motives that seemed to never mean them home, leaving them for an odd ache for the skies above.
As one with nothing but a gift for others, as one with a duty to help as best they could, as one with a future laid out in the unknowns of the shadows, it was more than they could ever reasonably ask for. And yet it was given without resentment, to them, to Dante.
So maybe if they could make a wish, any selfish wish for when it would be their turn, for when their clock ticks down to their final hour and they must face their self and the one they were before. If their star could yet give them one other thing, grant this self serving want to them like the fruit borne from a tree of gilded gold.
It would be that if they must one day travel somewhere immeasurably far, or change so completely as to no longer be themselves or otherwise become lost in the crossings of so many streams or simply reach the end of the path others have carved for them.
That the constellation of their 14 stars would guide them back to the only place they've known as home, to the only people they've known as family. To embrace them again and let them indulge in their warmth at the end of the day. To guide Dante to their happiness and indulge them enough to match the pain of each death rewound.
It was an ideal impossible in the City, yes, but to fail to reach the moon is to reach the stars, and that was not to harsh a proposition.
Dante was never quite sure what others were seeing when they talked of their expressions. But right then they felt a smile spread upon their face of their own volition. Perhaps an unconscious completion of her request, perhaps imitation of their Sinners.
They weren’t quite sure, but they liked it.
And if anyone saw their radiant happiness, nobody commented on it. They glowed like a star to lead them out of the dark.