The Stars' Bride

[Lightsnowe]

‘Never say never,’ Papa always told me. ‘Never becomes again. And you’ll soon be stuck saying, I hope that doesn’t happen again!’

 

That was Papa for you. Unfathomable. Dropping one last kernel of wisdom before disappearing forever. It was his last, greatest mystery. Left behind for me to unravel and puzzle over and even now I can’t make sense of it. Something to do with accepting anything as possible, no matter how outlandish. The notion had some sense about it, touched by the warm wisdom I remember him by.

 

Still. There were some things I swore I’d never see, or do, or feel. But after that first terrible week at the Akademy, after all my nevers had been gathered up and tossed in the bin, I understood. The possibilities in life are as infinite as the stars, laughing at us from far overhead. And amongst all the great things I aspired to, one of my nevers sprung up from nowhere. Something had happened that I hoped would never happen again.

 

~~

 

We had arranged to meet at the train station, early.

 

The station itself was as small and unassuming as our little town, well-made and functional in its own rustic way but unornamented and plain. It was a wood-clad platform raised beside the gently winding tracks running north to south. Tidy rows of benches laid out beneath an overhead shelter, which in turn stretched over the small, single-seating office. An unimpressed attender flipped through the morning’s paper, immune to our enthusiasm. 

 

I had packed what seemed sensible, an imperially large bundle compared to Trestle Tres’ own little baggy. She had tut-tutted me back at the station, ‘Less is more,’ the Lalafell chided while flipping her smart little shadeglasses up onto the smoky blonde crop of her hair. She was immaculate in her dark plume overcoat, the stark white of her painted nails flashing with her little, abrupt gesture. ‘Less is more, Guppy’. 

 

Why did everyone in my life have some wise idiom loaded and ready to fire at a moment’s notice?

 

‘Good morning. And you’re one to talk anyway, probably magicked up that small purse of yours to be wider within than without.’ She made a big deal about fuming over the accusation, without actually denying it. I got her pretty good with that one. Mages of the Black were known for such tricks, little sorceries by which to cheat through the day. Purposed undoubtedly for the leaving of sufficient time for the tutting of us simple folk and our mundane labors.

 

And if it was a tut for me, then Tres had one big emphatic TUT prepped for Eclipse, who called from down the steps and threw both arms in a wave. Evidently she had been running behind. Literally, as it turned out.

 

She came trotting over, coated in a thin layer of glossy sweat despite the lingering chill of the early morning. Careful Eclipse had been our third conspirator for as long as any of us could remember. Teal skinned and ivory haired, as tall and powerfully made as any Roegadyn. A prodigious crate, the sort you’d expect to find guarded on the highest floor of any dragon’s castle, had been strapped to her broad shoulders. Each of her graceful, powerful motions cast a ripple of metal clanks and clonks from its contents.

 

Her smile was as white as her unruly hair, and she padded over to us, winded. Shrugged off her load with a thud that rattled the flagstones beneath our feet.

 

‘This is it,’ she stated, gazing around in her reserved, intelligent manner.

 

‘Yeah,’ Trestle agreed. A bundle of nervous energy, she had paced a fine stripe beside an unoccupied bench. ‘I just hope we get there before nightfall. They say the setting sun isn’t something to be missed.’

 

‘Silly bean,’ I smiled. ‘There are plenty of sunsets ahead. I wouldn’t worry about missing one.’

 

‘You wouldn’t, not with your nose in that eye-tube of yours.’ Eclipse mimed a very frail old maid, clutching at a phantom prop with gnarled ancient talon-fingers and licking her lips noisily. We laughed at the foolish but rather well-rehearsed display, I reached out and pinched her hip in retribution.

 

‘Telescope. It is called a telescope. And it a valuable addition to any aspiring Astrologian’s kit. Some would argue the humble scope remains a more effective tool for divining meaning from the heavens than the tarots themselves. In fact the great Starseer Featheroux-’

 

Tres paced harder, gesticulating grandly. ‘Here she Feather-goes…’

 

‘And when she will stop, who Feather-knows?’ Eclipse shrugged, towering over us.

 

‘Well pardon -me- for having an interest in-’ I started.

 

‘...sometime soon, I Feather-hope.’

 

Absolute monsters, the pair of them. I coiled, glancing between the two. Waiting to see which of the masterminds would volunteer the next, final pun. My admiration for, and in fact love of the great Bethamy Featheroux was a long-storied fact amidst my friends. It was no secret I studied the great Starseer’s works since I could gaze up at the night-time sky, often forsaking my patient companions to do so. It was this love for her works which inspired me upon this very path, to seeking a formal Astrologian education at the lauded Akademy Majestica. 

 

It was their most favored pressure point, mainly for its reliability. I was wound up in an instant, ready to declare war. Careful Eclipse, of course, read me like one of her trashy pic-novels and sneered. Her powerful fists pressed against her balanced hips.

 

‘That’s gonna be one big Featherno for me, yall.’

 

She barely finished before I lunged at her, foaming. I tried all my best moves. I went for the ribs, I flailed at her sharp ears, I thrashed with all the savagery my Hyur frame would contain. I threatened disorder and mayhem in the first degree. She laughed, and laughed. Contained me with a single hand. I felt the floor pull away from beneath me, and after a few moments realized she had me up by the scruff of my sweater. I pawed harmlessly at the air for a while, before yielding with a whimper, my fury spent.

 

‘....hate puns,’ I gasped.

 

‘We know,’ my two dearest friends said. They each patted me on the head, and I swatted away their pity, smiling despite myself.

 

‘I’m so excited,’ I decided after we settled back down. ‘I am -so- excited.’

 

My heart was humming. I hummed along with it. Because after the youthful years of study, after perilous exams and strenuous research projects, we were finally on our way. Eighteen years of hard work, plus or minus one or two to account for infancy, had unravelled for us the path to our dreams.

 

Akademy Majestica.

 

Regarded by all nations as a hub for knowledge and learning. Where the brightest and the best (that’s us!) could gather in study and camaraderie, and plot a course to a prosperous future for all. Trestle Tres, I knew for a fact, would go on to perfect her thaumaturgy and witchcraft, her power guided and encouraged by the old Masters. And Careful Eclipse, with all the athletic prowess of some ancient warrior-queen, I could see her adorned in the spines and plates of a full Dragoon, leaping high into the heavens and raining down spears upon the unjust.

 

As for me, well. The girl I had glimpsed in my morning mirror was mousey and small, but I knew the determination in her eyes. I had seen where she had come from, where she would go. I had seen her gaze into the heavens, marvelling over their chaotic order and infinite beauty. That very girl, with her dark curls and lopsided dimple, was going to meet Bethamy Featheroux, the best Astrologian in Eorzea, and study beneath her directly.

 

I hopped excitedly. Triple-checked my luggage. Patted myself down, nearly panicked when I couldn’t feel my house-key. Then remembered I had left it tucked in the Porter’s mailbox. A throb of guilt and longing plucked at my heart. The tiny single-room home wasn’t much, but it was mine. It’d seen me through my schooling, and as many winters as it took to get here today. I wondered if its next resident would be someone as doe-eyed and wistful. I wondered if she would stow away her secrets in the loose floorboard by the bed, or if she would know to let the sink run a minute before showering. I wondered if she too missed her papa, how she whittled away her sorrow on those bleak nights when the candle was her only company.

 

I would miss my quiet town, I decided as the thoughts ran their natural course. I would have liked to think it would miss me, too. I helped where I could. The cards would not tell me much, but they showed me the portents of the seasons. And folk are always eager to know when the rain is coming, or when the thaw will break. And we had our little hill, where my conspirators and I would loiter and lay and peer into the eternal cosmos. Tres dreamed of boys and Eclipse of barbells, but I dreamed of the above. Of harnessing the ancient wisdom of the unknowable stars.

 

And finally, finally that wisdom was coming. Speeding along to me as quickly as the conductor would allow, carried along by a great engine.

 

Before long, the tell-tale steam whistle shrieked from down the tracks, and the train trundled into station. I glimpsed my girls. Little Tres was all smiles and cheer, stoic Eclipse nodded devotedly.

 

‘I am so excited,’ I murmured. If I had any real idea as to what lay ahead, I would’ve picked up my two friends, marched back to my little cottage and tucked the three of us under my neatly made bed, to cower and quail the years away until a peaceful passing at the hands of old age.