Chapter Text
ACT I: The Poet, The Pawn, The Lover
Turquoise hair and three gunshots.
Sunday’s eyes flickered open, weary with sleep, and heavy with unease. The same dream he’d been having for months. A tantalizing, captivating, illustrious and elusive dream. He knew he was not going to be able to drift off again, his mind was through whirring. He arose, careful to be silent as he carefully slunk through the door of his room, and out into the main hall of the Astral express.
Outside the windows, the stars are alive, dancing around him like small birds.
The common room is empty, to no surprise, to the fact it’s early in the morning, and the Trailblazer and her companions were away.< br /> He holds himself composed in front of the window, looking out at the multicolored planet they were orbiting. It’d been nearly twelve moon cycles of the same dream every night, waking in cold sweat.
Sunday, considered himself favored by the gods. He had believed it a coincidence the first handful of times, but now he was sure something, or someone waited for him on the spiraling blue planet below.
His fingers brushed the glass, carefully tracing the circle of the planet. Amphoreus, the words tasted sweet on his tongue, like a riddle. Like a needle weaving its way into his system.
He stayed looking out of the window until he lost track of time. The sun rose.
Today, he departed for the planet. He’d find what he was destined for, and discover purpose.
Sunday stepped off the pod onto luscious green grass.
It’d been long since nature’s gracious fingers had weaved into his, and he deeply breathed in, filling his lungs with clean, fresh air. A city lies in the distance. Its pillars stand tall, white, and pristine. He can see many buildings. He begins to walk, though daybreak has just started, he worries he may be too late. He had waited until he couldn’t anymore, and he feared he may have waited too long. The city grows closer. He can see the small silhouettes of people in the distance.
Sunday makes haste. He doesn’t know who he is looking for, the only clue he has is blue hair. He figures he can ask around. He will do this. He will not fail another as he failed his sister.
The outskirts of the city are beautiful. People wander wearing more casual clothes, and suddenly, he feels overdressed. Out of place. He doesn’t dwell on that for long though, he is a stranger in a foreign land.
He enters the city, and to his disbelief, you can just walk in. No guards, no dreamscape. Sunday is baffled by the sheer openness and freedom. Eyes trace his graceful figure as he walks the streets, making for the heart of the giant city. He folded his wings in, covering them with hair, perhaps nervous someone might attempt something. Giant creatures dwell in stables, unlike anything Sunday had seen before. He cannot recall the last time he’d seen any animals other than birds and monsters. He shudders at the thought, suddenly feeling very exposed. He looks around for anything to help him find the turquoise haired person, any clues, or a sign from the gods. Something catches his eye, a blonde haired man, wearing red clothes. He speeds up his pace, catching up to the man. He reaches out before the man spins around and grabs his wrist. “Outsider.” Is the first thing he says. “Why are you here?” Sunday reflexively grabs the book hitched on his waist, but instead he relaxes. “My name is Sunday. I am acquainted to the Trailblazer, and I am searching for someone.” The man’s face slips into shock, for a brief moment, before returning to normal. Sunday notices. He noticed all small things these days. The man drops his wrist and looks around. “Mydei.” He says, “I can take you to my companions. We will help you.”
Mydei leads Sunday to a garden. It is round and beautiful, reminding him almost of a fever dream. In the garden, stands a man with silvery blue hair, and Sunday briefly thinks that he may be the one he’s been searching for. The man’s face lights up at the sight of Mydei, but then scrunches as his gaze falls upon the angelic Sunday. “Mydei. Who is this?” His voice is cold. Unwavering, confident. Sunday tenses.
Mydei steps forward, and whispers into the taller man’s ear. His face softens slightly, and he straightens as Mydei steps away, “Do you have any other information on this person?” Sunday shakes his head, and in the process, his hair gets slightly rustled, revealing his wings. The silver haired man goes slack jawed, and the latter quickly turns around to readjust his hair. He turns back professionally, before carrying on. “I’m looking for someone with green, almost turquoise hair. I believe they are in danger.”
Mydei and the other man exchange glances. “Phainon, go get the others.” He tells the other man.
Sunday steps to the side as Phainon runs off. Mydei takes a step towards him and his eyes narrow with deception.
“What else do you know?”
Sunday freezes. He doesn’t know more than the color of hair and apparent danger, but they suspect he does. He looks Mydei dead in the eye and says “Nothing.” He doesn’t mention the gods. No trouble is the best he can do to attain peace. Bring the Trailblazer, he tells Mydei. She can confirm I am not here for trouble. He does not reply. “You can uncover your wings. People will not look at you if you are with us.” Sunday notices how Phainon had looked at Mydei. He noticed how Mydei had said ‘us’ so carefully as if it could break. Sunday noticed these things.
He had felt love in places it never was, and he could see it in people’s eyes. It made him happy, and reminded him of his sister, his beautiful fallen dove.
Sadness and grief ripped through his veins, mourning swirling in his mind. It just made him more determined to not be the cause of another’s downfall.
This mission would not bring her back. But it would save another.
Sunday faced Mydei, his posture straight and his eyes focused.
“Thank you.”
Mydei nods, and Sunday can see him watching him through his peripherals, skeptic, but calm.
Within a brief moment, all calm is gone and a flicker of light dances through his vision.
Sunday’s amber eyes trace the outlines of the city. He smells smoke, but he cannot tell from where. He hears yelling, and Mydei sees unfazed.
Sunday falls to his knees as flames close around him, a falling feather absorbed by the void.