#Constellation is /also/ a god known as the Soulrunner

[phantomdecibel]

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“Is there a god of the End?” “Sort of. There’s me.”

“You want us to /kill/ a /god/?” “Not necessarily… just remove her from the equation, by whatever means necessary.”

“Welcome to the End of All Things.

My solace.

…my prison.”

It’s peaceful, isn’t it?

And maddeningly dull.

“People so rarely want to believe the truth.” “And what /is/ the truth?” “That Life needs Death as Death needs Life.”

The back of her cloak was spun from starlight, and waters dark like the void cottoned the inside*.

“They created a way to kill gods – an easier way. It was Integra’s idea, but Constellation chose to take the fall.”

“And in between the *** and *** and tea parties he had forgotten. Forgotten that before she was his friend she was a /god/ - and the gods had condemned his baby (girl) to death.”

“I’m just a man - you can’t seriously expect me to do this!”

“***” Constellation spoke, eyes dead and expression even, as she regailed him with the atrocities his child was destined to commit. The knife she had placed on the table earlier, enchanted strongly so that there was no flesh that would not yield before it, sat heavy in its place.

Angie reached out to push the gift back towards the god he once called his friend. “No,” he pleaded, knowing that with his refusal he would surely die with his child.

Constellation stared back, face finally drooping with emotion. Sadness, maybe even a distant hurt, disappointment, surely, warred in her eyes.

Straightening resolutely from where she had been leaning against the doorframe she strode forward, *** and *** tensing at his back. But Constellation did not reach for the knife, not yet at least, and instead dropped to one knee.

With one hand she caught his retreating wrist, and pressed the knifes handle into his waiting palm. “No!” He exclaimed, trying to pull away, to no avail. Constellation just held him tighter. How could she be so cruel? The knife /burned/. “I told you- I /won’t/, I /can’t/-“

Constellations grip tightened once more, cutting him off, before finally releasing his wrist only to move to force his stiff fingers to curl around the knife handle. Angie could have burst into tears right then and there, when she forced his eyes to meet hers.

“I am not here,” she spoke, slowly and quietly, eyes honest. “To harm your child, or to force you to harm your child.”

“But-“ he gaped, looking down at the knife still in his white knuckled grip. Confident he wouldn’t drop it Constellation let go and backed away to her previous spot by the door. Constellation scoffed, not unkindly, as he struggled to find the words.

“What- you think you need a super fancy enchanted knife to kill a baby?”

“But then- /why/?” (totally wasn’t inspired by just a man–)

Salix had never felt any desire to leave the ground until she met Arceli, who leaned into each gust of wind like it might lift her away and gazed so wistfully up at the stars, and Constellation, who danced so gracefully among them. Suddenly, Salix wanted nothing more than to touch the sky, to help Stella drag ‘Celi up up up into the air, and learn what it was truly like defying gravity.

*The next day*, Salix carved wings of bark and bones and moss, broad things that ***. She grafted them to the skin between her shoulder blades, and they fit like *they were destined to be there/a missing puzzle piece*, snug under her boarskin cloak.

Constellation, who really didn’t want any more work, thanked her anyways.

“My goal is to get kicked out of every inn we stay at,” Kip chirped, feet swinging as the child perched atop Constellation’s shoulders.

“Don’t bother following them- no one makes it out of /there/ alive.” “Ya know, it sounds like a /lot/ of people do, actually. We’re going.”

And Salix fell.

Someone might have screamed her name… but that didn’t matter to her, not in that moment.

Because for a split second, /they/ fell with her.

For a split second, the sky was bright and blue and laughter echoed like bells as wings dragged gracelessly through the clouds in the free fall, and Constellation was only an arm’s length away.

But she is not heartless, and cannot bear to leave a child alone when their only family is dead, and takes the child with her. But no mortal, especially one born of wild magic and ***, is meant to live so long among the throngs of divinity and especially not the work of the Soulrunner, and Kip grows up taunting ghost and jumping head first into spools of wild magic.

Ghosts are spirits or people who’ve wandered through a magic threshold into a place they don’t belong, like a living person into Death or vice versa, into different dimensions, where time is thin, etc.

Idea of crowns-as-a-symbol-of-power origins

“So what have you been up to?” “Oh, you know. ***. ***. Bullying the maneating spirit forest *** for a bit. ***. Normal stuff.”

“… what was that part in the middagain?”

“***?”

“… you know what? Never mind. I don’t wanna know.”

Ever since Kai has known her, which is a while, seeing as she’s his little sisters best friend and maybe more, she has at best looked half asleep. ***. Despite it all, she has also always been /sharp/, from the lines of her fangs in her smile, the analytical way she looked at everyone and everything to the rigid lines of her shoulders. Even the wings of her eyeliner is ***. (Kai had mentioned that last thing to Willow, once. She had said that “Violet wants them long enough to be able to fly away from her problems,” despite having wings and being very capable of flight.) But now, Violet looks more awake than she ever has. It’s odd.

Even Nuoli, who never had to fight through the Sleep, was more awake than ever. (Gods- she really was one of them, wasn’t she?)

And as Arceli stared into her friends blank eyes -

She watched them shatter.

“I can’t remember what colour her eyes were,” Constellation said, bloodless hands numbly griping at her arms as she started to shake. “I can’t remember what colour her eyes were.”

“They’re going to hate you.” “You say that like they don’t already.” “They’ll look at you like you’re a monster if you do this!” “I don’t need to be the hero in anybody’s story - as long as you’ll still love me as the villain.”

“C’mon, Sally!” Arceli laughed, slinging her arms over both of their shoulders and dragging them along. Sam relaxed into the hold as much as she ever did, but Salix remained tense.

“Sally?” She asked, questioning the butchered attempt at her name.

“Yup, s’your nickname!”

“You gave me a nickname?”

“Course I did, dumbass. What you never have a nickname before?”

“O-of course I have!” Salix exclaimed with the tone and intonation of someone who had, in fact, never had a nickname, and barely knew what they were, but didn’t want to admit it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Arceli chuckled fondly, softer than before, as Constellation reached around to pat her on the shoulder. “I’ve got plenty of ideas for ‘ya.”

“Wait- where’s Constellation?” “I - I’m sorry. I could only save one of you… and she didn’t give me the chance to try.” “..?” “To try and save you both.”

mmmmMMMMMM SO MANY GOOD DRAWING OPPORTUNITIES

SO MANY WRITING OPPORTUNITIES

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Here have this sketch of a character not mentioned in this–

having the oc brainrot and intense desire to write and draw but currently unable to do either of those things for another like. two hours aaaaaaa–