#himetio tag tbt

[everlastiingiimmortals]

"Strange... Even in my statues of you, you only look up towards the stars." | @chasersglow <3

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[everlastiingiimmortals]

"Andreas, how far do you think that sea is?"

A girl, barely more than a few years stands before him as she so often did. Voice light, with an abundance of wonder that most her age perhaps should have grown out of and yet the dream like quality never fails to be childlike. There are so many things she could pursue, the love she has to oceans and tides of there homeworld is undeniable and the need to know more is always there. Many take the path beneath the shore as their chosen field of science, one would have believed this girl would have sought it too.

That is, if she had never looked upwards while her feet remained planted firmly in shore, the waters lapping against her knees and the skirt of her dress. Like she did now this night, like the many nights before him. "I've calculated, measured each in every unit we have to offer and yet I stand no closer fo the true answer I'm looking for."

So many questions lie on her tongue yet when she turns there exists no anger nor frustration in her eyes. Haloed by the light of the lunar celestial, Himeko Murata shines like a dream in her endless wonder and the joy it brings her within this murky vision reproduced by the sleeping mind.

Perhaps the knowledge of who had accepted the invitation is a source of his nostalgia for a girl that he saw fade in her own selfishborne madness?

Unprompted. Always accepting! | @chasersglow

You of all people needn't have me tell you the answer to your question.

The comment remains unspoken, left to leave Andreas' lungs in nothing but a silent and wordless exhale as he stands and watches her, knee-deep in the sea kissing the shore, from where he stands on drier sands.

The ocean is calm. Andreas' eyes turn up to where he can see -- not much farther above the horizon, past Himeko's head -- the moon, casting a silver path on the remarkably still sea. It turns her red hair silver, too. It turns her into something else.

He knows the sea she's standing in is not the sea she is asking about.

When she turns to him, he sighs, not quite fondness, not quite exasperation.

"Himeko, you are asking the wrong question."

The words come as easily as his approach, sand shifting beneath his feet and slipping into his sandals with every step until his toes touch water, then his ankles, shins, until he is standing beside her, the sea soaking into his pants.

"You will never find the answer you seek here. Surely someone of our capacity would know that by now."

He studies her, maroon and yellow boring into golden irises. His own face stares back at him, a reflection in her eyes. He huffs.

"Turn around."

Grabbing her shoulders, he spins her back around, angling her chin up -- not at the moon, but above it, so that she is looking once more towards the stars.

"Your question, Himeko, is not how far the astral sea is. I know it. You know it." It is 'how do I get there? How do I get to the ends of the universe from where we are?' "If you don't start asking the real question within your mind, you will only find the same non-answer over and over again. Try again, and maybe I can offer my assistance."

---

There is silence in his studio. The passing of years do not show in the impeccable cleanliness of his workspace, aside from the debris of his latest work, half finished. Rather, it shows in the growth of the countless statues that fill his space, more elaborate, more refined, more alive. He spins the chisel in his hand, staring at the face emerging from the stone.

"...Strange..." he murmurs absently. A hand rises up to brush the cool marble cheek he'd refined to lifelike smoothness, coming away with fine dust. "Even in my sculptures of you, you only look up towards the stars."

---

When they meet again, it is loud. Loud, bright, too many different sounds and colors and flashing lights and smells mingling around. He is taller now, shoulders broader, eyes sharper. The deep blue suit of his is pressed to perfection, gilded embroidery winding down his shoulders and back. It is only out of courtesy that he is here without his alabaster headpiece, enduring the laughter of drunken and wayward fools chasing dreams and delusions.

His eyes only fall upon her by chance. A lesser man might have found her unrecognizable from the girl he once knew, but to him, there was no mistaking her, dressed in a pure white gown that shone. It doesn't take him long to approach her, despite the deliberate slowness of his every step. He realizes, then, how much time has passed since their eyes last met. How much they've both changed. He stares into her eyes, the piercing inner rings of his irises unchanging even with the darkness and flashing lights of the ballroom. His reflection does not stare back, replaced after all these years by stars.

Millions and millions of stars, as if those golden eyes were a window into the very universe itself.

"Have you found what you've been looking for," he murmurs,

"...Himeko?"