αστερόσκονη

“Well, I’m sure that not many agree with you.” He retorted with a smirk as his hand slapped Orion’s away. He wasn’t short, and he wasn’t a kid either. “But… if you want to live believing in the contrary, I can’t stop you. Happiness isn’t something that abound in this world..”

His tone of voice revealed a lack of sincerity in half of his words, all part of the game he had missed so much. In all seriousness, Elefseus couldn’t wait to know what would be Orion’s reply, drunk with nostalgy as he was. They met in the most adverse circunstances, but it only made the bond between them stronger. It was a good in the middle of so much bad.

But there was no joking answer and, for a moment, Elefseus stood there trying to check the facts that he learnt about in his many trips.

“This world is truly cruel.” A sigh. And both of them knew it by first hand.  “But we can’t be sad or angry all the time neither. Some good things happen too.” He nods, their friendship and meeting are the best examples of this. 

After the teasing and the serious moment, Orion listes carefully to the information his friend has heard about him, his face shows no reaction, at least not until the other is done with the explanation and that is after some seconds.

And yet his good mood was soon soured by his old friend’s snarky comments. Some things, unfortunately, never change, huh?

“Have you looked around? You are the giant here!” He snarked back as he pointed at the random passengers. Elefseus was tall for the era, but Orion was just as tall as a tree… And he was just as ready to brag as he was as a kid. “I’m amazed you have survived up until now when you are such an easy target. As for the guards, I’m a nobody. Do you really think that anyone would allow me to get close to the famous olympics winner and prince abandoned at birth?”

He wasn’t angry at him, and limited himself to state the truth. Elefseus himself had his share of secrets and mysteries… The shadows of death were always there, reminding him that he was even more abnormal than his successful friend. But a creepy ability to detect the supernatural wasn’t really useful to make a name of himself.

“I could be, but it isn’t my fault you’re all tiny and didn’t grow up taller, I’m truly an unique beauty! Of course, unlike you, ugly. I can’t blame you for being envious about my attractive!”. While he spoke those words, his hand pats Elefseus’ head, and jut a proud smile covers his lips.

As for his explanation about the guards, nothing could not be said... At least not that much. The teasing ceased.

Rumors about his athleticism had spread even this far but some part of her had always wondered if the great Olympian was the same as her Orion. Now that she’s no reason to worry, Misia crosses the hall in order to stand right in front of him and really try to get a better look. He’s much taller than her - probably taller than Elef, too. And what she can make of his build, well, perhaps it isn’t impossible that he’s won the Games. His features, though handsome, are still lost to her hazy vision.

“Yeah! That is me.” He giggled for some seconds after confirming her question. How nice it was to finally getting a positive response.

Her apologies are not necessary in his opinion, in that case there was no need to worry about such formalities with him, given the circumstances and all the years without seeing each other, it was an impossible duty to recognize each other in an instant, it is understandable how everything happened. So he only offers her a smile and a relaxed reply.

”No problem! To be honest I only recognized you because of the hair, you have changed a lot too.” And the trick was finally revealed, maybe it could be considered as cheating, only noticing that over everything, but it could not be helped. Now she was has grown up into a beautiful and delicate young woman, one that left behind that tomboy girl... Her presence brought a tender and protective feeling on him, their height differences were so clear, so small and cute, which was not strange sensation, because in the end, he covered their backs during that escape, so it is only a remaining of that moment.

Moved by the pure joy of meeting with another person dear to him in such a short period of time, he also walked towards the archer’s direction until they were at few steps of distance.

“Orion…! What are you doing here, you supreme idiot?!” His tone was clearly cheerful in spite of the namecalling, an attempt to recover good old customs. “And I thought that I would need to get past a lot of guards and security just to say hi to an old friend!”

He gave it for impossible after some pondering: the chances to see his old friend were slim after his rise to fame and he was pretty sure Misia wasn’t on the area either, as it was the first place he checked after recovering with Milos’ aid…

Quick and large steps get him closer to his friend, and this also allows them to notice their height differences, how funny! They used to be around the same height, and now... Many centimeters separate them, how tiny!.

With the sunlight streaming in at his back and the dull candle-light illuminating only the far inner section of the room, it doesn’t matter how much Misia squints. All she can see a tall, slim physic and hair that is haloed by too much light to distinguish a color. The fact they stand in Astra’s holy home provides a sensation of safety, aided thankfully by the lack of tension set into the air by the man’s presence.

It’s then that Misia scolds herself; it isn’t the first time that someone has come to this place asking for her by name. It doesn’t happen often, but nor is it impossible. And she, as a servant to the Pantheon, is obligated to assist all who enter the temple. Once the matter of identity is squared away, she can see to her responsibilities and go about her day as if nothing strange has happened. 

And so an apologetic smile sweeps onto her gentle face. “I’m sorry, my vision is poor in this lighting. Have we met…?” She has no reason to think that after all these years, that spunky young boy would come barreling back into her life as abruptly as he had the first time.

Her smile only confuses him more, and her eyes trying to... focus? Was it really hard to believe? 

But then her words cleared the doubts away -just slightly-. So Misia truly had no idea of who he is, it does not matter, the reason behind it seems a really valid one and consistent with her previous movements. 

Poor vision? Now he wondered what happened to her, that condition did not seem to be part of her when they met years ago; speaking about that, even if she could see him perfectly, it would be understandable that an instant recognition did not happen, mostly because he has indeed changed a lot from that slave boy. 

A sigh came before offering her an explanation.

asteroskonii

Time passed so slowly when you were waiting.

Meeting his sister again made him happy, and he went often to chat with her and simply enjoy her company. He had missed her so much, so so much… It was a blast to be able to chat and at times even play like if they were the same exact children that got tragically separated.

Recovering the time lost, learning about the person the other had become… it made him happy. That was the reason he kept stubbornly in his search: to recover what was left of the precious family that gave him so much comfort. His twin.

Yet there was one only problem. Aside of family members, he had other kind of loved one: a certain princess who made him consider the idea of marrying like never before. And it was his desire to make that real, his impatience, what made him visit the port that day, searching for Rose’s familiar face between all the visitors.

However, what he noticed that day wasn’t a princess… it was a tall man with features and blond hair he could never forget.

At any rate, what a boring and long trip! But all of that was bearable in order to greet Astra for the blessings and also paying a small visit for his old friend. Due to this, he brought with himself some presents that would serve as a thank you detail with both.

Once he got down of the ship and raised his gaze, certain hair color gained his attention, was Misia waiting for him? Ah, no, that is impossible, there was no way she could do that with all her duties as priestess, though he indeed let her know about his return to this place. Now that he focused better on the figure, it was too big for it being a female, and the waves on that hair did not belong to her, so that only leaves another option.

asteroskonii​

Lesbos is a small island and aside from business at the port, it would be awfully truthful to say that anything exciting happens on but rare occasions. With virtually nothing to disrupt one’s daily life, the locals tend to live on a set schedule. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are served at roughly the same time and eaten with the same people. The work day begins and ends consistently from day to day. Personal time and leisure time, though dictated individually, usually fall within the same frames. Even the priestesses have turned into creatures of habit.

Which is why, when the sound of footsteps disrupt the quiet silence of the Goddess’s home, Misia knows it is not one of their regular visitors. The timing isn’t right. “Welcome, dear traveler,” she greets, though her back is turned at the moment and her hands are focused on organizing the offerings made that morning. “May Astra bring you the guidance you seek.”

Once inside the temple, he truly had no idea about where or to who talk to for help, luckily for him there was a lady that immediately greeted him -she looked so small compared to him-. That hair color, silver mixed with violet streaks, was really familiar, truth is no other similar feature like that one was seen after separating from that ugly and his sister, could it be--? Huh, maybe it is only his imagination, an ilusion caused by the feeling of missing his old friend.  

Then she finally turned around and there was that braid... Orion blinked a couple of times, so there was no doubt it, Moira surely has funny ways of placing meetings together. Well, if she has not seen him yet, then it is time to surprise her.

It’s quite amazing, really. 

The young man is apparently without shame, without remorse as regards what he had said – indeed, there are far worse things he could have said to anyone, in any situation. As far as irreverently de-constructing somebody’s appearance unknowingly in the presence of that somebody themselves is concerned, however… Well, at least some humility is expected upon the recognition of so much, surely? Perhaps not any apology per se (and he certainly isn’t about to push for one, considering the good humour he’s found in all this), but a sheepishness born from that realisation. 

Although the musician’s expression never once falters to betray in full any of that bemusement, his silence between his company’s comment and his own nevertheless speaks for him.

Huh, so in the end he was slightly annoyed, despite of joking together for a moment and showing a different expression. Whatever! At his observation about his reviewing skills, a loud laughter was his reaction.

Mär had rather been hoping, if not expecting that the stranger ceased his criticism once he realised he had company – or that he would have at least turned to first check that he was in suitable company before continuing his frank evaluation. Apparently he had been given too much credit in this regard, because there wasn’t so much as a glance backwards: he would have surely seen fit to excuse his misbehaviour as ‘only a joke’ sooner were that the case, after all. 

Still, the musician cannot find it in himself to be indignant even after the further deconstruction of his costume. If anything, the other’s continued ignorance of his company’s identity is nothing less than some beautiful crescendo, a joke of his own building up before the inevitable delivery of its punchline– Really, he’s quite amazed at how keen this one is to critically rip into a poster advertising something as innocuous as a piano recital. He does find himself wondering, idly, whether this - and other associated attitudes - is some sort of backlash against his so-called ‘popularity’ among the younger, more mainstream audience, but the idea is dismissed little later than it arrives. 

Well, at least the lad appreciates that that which he beholds now is a costume. He might later tease him about judging books by their covers, if not for the fact that this particular books cover is designed to be judged.

But the poor boy has suffered long enough in his ignorance, and his realisation - though gradual - is inevitable. Where his smile is appropriately sheepish, the gentleman’s own is in some way triumphant (if modestly so), even though it was the stranger himself who had dug his own grave – so to speak. Truly, there is no offence taken: but although he is not one to frequently indulge in Schadenfreude, the look on the young man’s face as he turns to face him is quite the delight. 

But that is not what surprised him, rather, those comments that encourage him to keep on with the joke. Worth to mention, he did not feel guilty for saying such things about his appearance, since such actions were part of his personality and he was not ashamed of that -such treats being emphasized by his age-.

It takes a while for getting any kind of reponse. A sigh and a couple of blinks, hand scratching his hair slightly, eyes staring at him in doubt.

So in the end he was not angry at him, even if he was having fun at his own cost? Despite of those heartless, according to some of his friends, words that made fun of him without any sign of mercy? It was an odd yet good situation, people that do not know him usually get offended by his comments, but... 

That does not matter. 

Everything went better than imagined. 

If truth be told, then, he hadn’t ever meant it to draw as much attention as it seems to be doing now. He hadn’t ever even wanted it to, either. 

The pianist hasn’t yet reached the mainstream popularity those trained in the pop or rock disciplines of music often are, thank the stars, although he certainly hasn’t failed to notice the rather different, discernibly younger sort of audience he has begun attracting recently. Needless to say that he isn’t ungrateful for this new-found audience of his; it doesn’t keep all this from being quite foreign to him, however, and though he hasn’t shied away from all this new attention per se, he frankly finds himself at some unease nonetheless. 

The posters, for one, he finds himself rather ambivalent about. He’s far more accustomed to simpler, minimalist fliers advertising his concerts – this is the first time, if he recalls correctly, his image has ever actually appeared on the posters.

”Zombie, vampire, whatever, he looks awful with that cheap makeup” Chuckes. “Lighting? Yeah, I have no idea about that, but photoshop could not make its magic on him... Or perhaps it did and he looks worse in person!” Now he finally laughs, and after he is done with his own joke, the realization of a strange voice plus a peculiar speech hits his mind. 

His memory resumed all the people he knows, and soon it was discovered it is none of them. Then he will have to discover it... Maybe it was just another curious person that happened to share his opinion.

Slowly, his body turns around to face the source of the other comments and when that face is seen... His skin turns white, he just... Is that really him? Oh, shit. That man just heard his negative opinion about his appearance and what a horrible coincidence... Why does this happen to him?!

“Because this supposedly small thing is going to punch you at this rate!”

☆.。.:*・° And just as expected, a tiny squeak left his lips as reaction to that pinch, he couldn’t let that ugly win!! And so, it was better to change the attack by regaining a calm posture.

“Yo, idiot! Time without seeing your ugly face, huh?”

☆.。.:*・° “Are you staring at your own reflection? Because the only ugly I see here is you.”