#vikesh

 He almost began to feel giddy as his arms moved. The feather-like touch getting a little tighter and a little rougher as a result.

 He winces as he notices it.

 his pencil tip leaving an odd uneven rough graphite on the paper. Too dark. Too stressed. Not in the right place, and unable to be erased.

 He rolls his shoulders in agitation, sitting in the chair he'd imagine would be softer.

 A God in name and abilities only he supposed. 

 he needs to lighten his touch.

 Slow and careful wins the race, that was the expression if he remembered well enough.

 But Vikesh knew he would love it when he was done.

 His star.

 The man had always admired Vikesh's creations before. Complimenting them. And sometimes just staring at them.

 He'd said he found them grounding in all of the chaos. 

 One stable thing, unable to be changed.

 And after everything, they thought he'd enjoy it.

 So Vikesh worked, twiddling his thumbs as he worked. The windows only some could see him through- if anyone was around, that was. Providing a steady stream of light despite the natural darkness of the end.

 The light just found him, Vikesh supposed.

 He chuckled at that; a light sound carrying gently around the room. Though he supposed it wouldn't be very funny to others. Maybe it wasn't even truly funny to him.

 But he chuckled all the same, before continuing in his work. Voting to keep it light as he practiced.

 He knew he should keep it simple, focus on one thing at a time so it fit perfectly.

 So for this constellation, he'd decided on a crown.

 A sweet message laid in there for Vikesh’s favorite disciple. If he could truly be categorized as that.

 Regardless.

 He thought, maybe. He'd like it.

 And maybe it would fill him with just as much, if not more, comfort than the others.

 Maybe it could be a kind message. Even as the war raged on ruthlessly.

 Vikesh thought that was a nice thought. 

 He started again.

  It needed to be perfect.

 And, later when it was done. When he'd thought and conceptualized just where every single thing would go, when he'd worn down the shaft of the quill a significant portion.

 When he could finally get to the point in the process where he could feel it with his hands as he took the light and morphed it.

 It was warm to the touch. As he pushed and tugged and pulled. The purples and blues forming beautiful swirls as it was twisted.

 Every star made with such care.

 Until they were done.

 And he gently placed the stars ever so carefully in the sky. Them shooting away and expanding far, far away. But purposefully still visible to the naked eye.

 He stood next to the large crystalline tree, releasing them all one by one. Until slowly but surely

 They were all in place, just how she'd imagined.

 When it was all done, it was perfect.

 As he just stared at his creation.

  corona borealis .

 The crown.

 He formed the light carefully in his view, using his hand to 'draw' how it was meant to be seen. For just a moment.

 Before using his hand again to shake it away, releasing the tension in the light in an instant.

 And he was sure slow and steady was a much better motto than he gave it proper credit for.

 Because it was, it really was perfect. 

 And he would love it.

 And he did, smiling that warm smile.

 And Vikesh was more sure than ever that he cared for him so dearly.

 --

 To dedicate a single constellation to any specific person is a mighty task, one that is often filled with much emotion. Whether it be love, adoration, anger, betrayal or sorrow.

 And Vikesh dedicates many to Wolf.

 Or that is what he can only safely refer to him as now.

 It makes heartbreak boil in his stomach. To not even be able to think his true name for the fear the truth will get out.

 Because he did something that was not supposed to be done.

 He saved him.

 He could not be blamed, he was not the first god to make a significant change just to protect his favorite mortal.

 But Vikesh saved him.

 Wolf had been a mighty soldier, whether he believed in what he was fighting for or not was a topic unshared with Vikesh.

 But he'd been a mighty soldier all the same.

 And, something likely to do something with Vikesh himself, made him turn.

 Maybe not turn, necessarily . That seemed harsh.

 But war was harsh. And Wolf was attached. And not entirely loyal.

 And he did turn, he did.

 Because you could not be entirely loyal to your command when you were attached.

 And they saw it.

 He had been caught.

 He had been caught being a traitor, especially in his commands eyes.

 He was going to have been executed.

 And Vikesh had done something he was not meant to do. 

 He saved him, with a spell that broke his heart, but kept him safe. Or- kept him alive until it was safe.

 He had turned him into a Wolf, with a spell and a mask he'd wear for so, incredibly long in his human years.

 And he took him from the end and instead set him carefully down in the overworld.

 His home world.

 And Wolf seemed just as heartbroken. And it made the God of light want to weep that cloudy day.

 But Wolf would not remember soon enough.

 He'd pick up where he left off when it was safe enough, if it ever was.

 But for the current time. This was how he remained alive, unfound, and unkilled.

 That was of the most importance.

 But what a god does in sorrow nonetheless is many things.

 For many, it is composee ballads of tragedy and loss. 

 Others, it is write it down. Keep the loved mortal’s memory remembered.

 For some it is to quietly set up a shrine and just mourn. Deep in hiding where others can not reach, cannot see.

 Some from the same same batch seeth and decide that the mortals do not deserve to see a God mourning.

 What Vikesh does, the god of Light. The maker of stars.

 The God that cannot make ballads, or poems, or write it down for anyone but Wolf.

 The one who can do nothing loud.

 He makes another constellation.

 This one, mourning.

 He does not hold out on being rough on the paper, though still being careful as to not rip it.

 He doesn't care to flip the page when he runs out of space, just making the marks small and in sections as he figured out where every particular star would go.

 He dots it, and dots it.

 It's a map, of sorts.

 And then it's a Wolf.

 A Wolf that with a silent room, the light seeming to avoid; is weaved.

 He pushes and pulls, molds it, the colors moving around in swirls as he pinches and tugs.

 This one Wolf may not notice, may not draw comfort from.

 But Vikesh silently puts it into the sky nonetheless.

 Hoping maybe it will be a story.

 A story that will have an ending, unsatisfying maybe. But a definitive end all the same.

 Because as he stares at the two pairs of constellations.

 He doesn't want it to be such a dull end.

 Vikesh’s star, turned into a Wolf for his protection after being caught being a traitor.

 What an unpleasant story that was.

 Vikesh knew not to hope for different.

 It was not in a God's nature to be hopeful. 

 And yet he did, Even if it was a small part of him.

 He hoped someday, there would be an end to the story, one that posited Wolf into safety once again, let him live and laugh and be human.

 He hoped someday Wolf would notice the constellations, though he likely wouldn't remember who either one was for. And still, just be in awe like he used to.

 Maybe one day, they would keep him grounded again.

 Someday in the future.