milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It is rather fortunate that Tristran and Yvaine have not been turned into animals - who knows what sort of strange ruckus the two of them might have caused as animals with very little inhibitions.

Besides, Tristran already knows exactly how it feels to be an animal, and he can't say he enjoys it very much. He's rather glad that chapter in his life is gone and done.

There are two glasses of water on their table, and Tristran has an arm draped around the star. The couple have been out of the bar, doing what they do best (which, basically, is nothing productive) and are back tonight for even more nothingness and are very much botherable if you are so inclined to meet their acquaintance.

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She sat very simply, a few tables away. To be more specific, on top of the booth table, and to be most specific, about an inch above the booth's table, in the mid air.

Because moons might rise and set, as they waxed and waned, across the worlds, but stars did not touch the ground without a great impetus.

The stillness around her was off setting to certain people, but she watched quietly, with her chin resting on one hand. Also propped against the air, not resting, but as though it held her.

She blinks for a moment, shakes her head mildly.

"Fine, just -" her brow furrows, glancing back over her shoulder. "I think that I saw -"

She doesn't think. She's pretty sure that she knows.

"I will be right back."

She leans up, lips brushed against his brow, fingers quickly carded through his hair. She feels strange, not wounded or lost or frightened, just strange.

"Alright then?" a smile, nodding almost to herself. "Do follow if I stay too long, yes?"

He blinks confusedly.

"Where are you - " He tries to look and find the source of Yvaine's sudden need to go off and do whatever it is she needs to do, but he doesn't have the same sense she does.

He pauses, then nods.

"All right," he concedes, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I'll keep an eye out for you, then."

Star slid off the table in a movement that could never be mistaken for human.

It lacked all the hard edges that knees and elbows and hands and backs made. Shifting through space, cradled and fluid, so that she was realigned standing now before the table.

Her gaze was partly down, but her lips had tugged in the center to a small smile now.

The star doesn't walk gracefully - in fact, it would be generous to describe it as really walking. It's more hobbling - limping, perhaps. A slightly broken, slightly crooked sort of thing.

She doesn't walk, perhaps, but she knows where she's going anyway.

She knows when she gets there.

Her voice is quiet and the curtsy is proper.

"Good evening then, milady."

There were precious few in Milliways who knew her, and even fewer, who were not cards, not siblings of meaning, who saw and felt and were another part of her.

Her eyes lifted and lighted on the figure before her, the deep blue of always and almost black, timeless. Her smile seemed for the briefest flicker solemn, then beyond her shoulder to the other, before it warmed with a great joy on her again.

"Your journey brought you a treasure unaccounted for before?"

It's not family in the strictest sense - she is not something that Yvaine has seen or heard before, but more of something that she is.

Something that she belongs to.

It's odd and unexpected and strangely, wonderfully fine.

"If you mean that oaf back there," she cants her head, indicating the rather fidgety abandoned boy behind her, and smiles - edges softening, brightening unconsciously. "Well, then I would say I count him as my most treasured."

Yvaine's last words caused the widest smile, and a sweet laugh. A thing which was more the sparkle of feeling effusing the air than a single sound from her finite form.

It stops as simply as it started, but the feeling of amusement stayed dissipating much slower.

"It was a very hard road?"

This seems as much a question as isn't at once.

The laughter coaxes another smile of her own, quick and fleeting before she considers her words. Carefully, fingers folding into the front of her dress.

"Most are, I am thinking," she murmurs thoughtfully. "It is the nature of roads."

She nods to herself, as if checking over the words as they're being spoken.

"Things are much farther apart than I had really imagined."

Her teeth catch at her lower lip, "Though I cannot say that I am disappointed with where they led to."

"That is for the best; and they are," Star amends, about roads and distances, with a solemn nod. Or at least as solemn as she might ever truly near being the embodiment of hope.

There was a paused moment, then Star blinked and looked back at her. Her eyes darkened partly before she smiled again. This one was sweet, as the others, but there was a weight to it.

"I would make you an invitation."

She blinks curiously, taking a moment to think before she replies once more, and her fingers rub at her wrist, shifting lightly over a mark that isn't there - a remembered chain, an invisible sort of connection.

"Of what sort?"

Star looked off thoughtfully. And then she nodded, as to some unseen specter that understood and spoke her thoughts, yet no one was there but the air.

But wasn't that ever the truth of those who saw?

"It could be heavy and it might hurt, but then you have so recently learned love is of those things, too."

She looked beyond once more, to the simple, sweet boy, who evoked a genuine look of pleased joy, and then added, belatedly. "I would make it to the two of you, if it might be easier, too."

"I cannot exactly leave him behind," she says, simply and honestly. "Not that I have any particular desire to."

The star watches and though she may not see nearly as well, she can very nearly catch it. Something at the corners of things - just beyond her.

"Though the parts that hurt I may well keep for myself, if I am permitted - my heartbeat is his now, I am strong enough to hold the heavy things for him, he has done so for me."

She'll only call him if she knows he will be safe. She makes no grand declarations - she doesn't speak of things with the same ease that he does. But she loves him all the same.

If she had tears to form the way a person would they might glitter on her eyes, but instead there is only an intensity of color. Something that spoke so very well of many emotions, among them pride highest.

And perhaps even the smallest whimsy of soft longing.

"I think that you would think him to be there. I am not always right," Star admitted, with a smile that made her form revert to looking slightly younger again. "But it does happen, on the occasion."

Star moved about the air slightly, as she turned her face to look up toward the ceiling of Milliways.

"I would like to invite you to partake of a walk with me."

But then, perhaps, it was not at all the ceiling she looked to.

It makes her heartbeat quicken, off somewhere behind her with a boy with too-long limbs and a smile that makes her weak. The very idea of it.

Of what she says, of what she means.

She wants it, she knows she does. Selfishly a little - she is still young for such an old thing - but mostly to show him.

"Can I keep him safe?"

They are fragile things sometimes - mortals, part-mortals - and hers is important. To her, at least. It matters if she can make sure he is taken care of, if she can do it herself.

It matters more than what she wants.

Star is a Tarot Card and while it means she can be evasive, it is also true that she is ever herself. She is the voice that promises the light is coming, the dawn after the darkness and the drink before starvation.

But she does not lie and she does not shield.

She is not those people.

So her voice and her meaning is clear, without meaning to wound when she let her gaze cool softly. "I can."

"Would you?"

It's quiet, strangely so for her.

"I do not doubt you," she adds abruptly, quickly. "I just - he is important. He is the most important thing that I -"

She swallows, frowns mildly at herself, fingers pressing at her wrist again. She isn't good at this.

"I am his. Would you, please?"

Star smiled very simply and reached out to lay her hand over Yvaine's wrapped at her wrist, a cold and warm touch all at once. And this expression, this one of patient understanding, knew.

But it was as deep as the others.

As honest and as true.

"I can not do it for you." She said simply, but it was not a rebuke. She simply nodded beyond her to the table.

"It is to him to make that choice, or that request. It is his life and his path."

He's hers. She just got him, she's not precisely certain if she wants to risk breaking him quite yet.

But she does know that he's rather capable of taking care of himself.

Of taking care of her as well, if she were to be entirely honest.

"Very well," she allows, carefully, still subdued. "Shall I get him or -?"

"You may; if you'd like or you may take your time, to discuss it together."

She looked very reasonable about the whole thing. Time after all was a very fuzzy, unparticular thing to a star.

"There is no clause to your invitation."

"Next time then?"

She nods, breathes a bit easier.

She can tell herself how not to be so vastly overprotective in the meantime.

"To take him walking - granted it would be a more worrying thing altogether if my sisters were involved - but, just to do so," she smiles - grateful, easy - edges brightening. "Something close to home is something I had not expected."

"It is a world out of time and out of place." For this there was an impish grin, as she held a hand palm up, gesturing to the place around them.

"Where the rules may be reformed and purposely forgotten dreams sometimes can be shared."

"Then you have my utmost gratitude, milady," she replies. "For whatever it is worth."

It's not something she usually gives unless she means it. She very rarely gives much of anything unless she is certain that she wants to.

Another smile, "And I will return to my boy before he starts thinking that I have run off on him again."

She curtsies once more - that same crooked, slightly off motion - and turns, steps a bit brighter, back toward the booth and the simple thing that waits for her there.

Star watched quietly for a moment.

Before her face broke into a final smile--

watching them come together beautiful and reformed as they were, in the moment of meeting at the booth same as how they'd change so intrinsically from what they'd been before to now

--and she dissolved in a million tiny darts of light that seeped into the air and escaped back to the sky.

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