ZAIRE - STARGENDER (THEY/THEM PRONOUNS) - DEMIROMANTIC - SINGLE
MAYBE OPEN FOR (OOC) BREEDINGS
MAYBE OPEN FOR (OOC) BREEDINGS
zaire, a fallen star
Zaire [WIP]
- originally named Zachariah
- chose the name Zaire after they fell (it means "star")
- former guiding angel
- fallen star
- fell from their heaven and landed in a lake
- protect that lake and the lands surrounding it
- can grant wishes
- originally named Zachariah
- chose the name Zaire after they fell (it means "star")
- former guiding angel
- fallen star
- fell from their heaven and landed in a lake
- protect that lake and the lands surrounding it
- can grant wishes
Story
"There's a storm coming." The creature whispered while gazing at the horizon, the one next to them was only shaking their head.
"You're mad, Zachariah. There are no storms in heaven."
"What a pity, then, that this is the last place, I would call heaven."
"You should watch your tongue, Zachariah. Or at one point, your wings might burn."
"This summer storm will not only burn mine, dear Michael, but all of our wings."
"Let's hope you're just mad, then."
"There is no hope."
Shaking his head again, Michael turned his back on Zaire and walked away without another word.
Zaire themselves sighed out loud. Of course. They did not expect anyone to believe him, but they had hoped that at least Michael, who was known as the voice of reason in he heavens, would lend them an ear. It looked as though they were wrong.
They stared at the slight hint of fiery red, like a splatter of blood, that had started to show.
For the unknowing eye, this might as well look like the sun setting, but there was no sun in heaven. Zaire wished, it would turn out to be something harmless, but they knew, it wasn't.
A storm was coming. Fire and blood. It would be bad.
They closed their eyes and spoke a quick prayer, as if the mumbled words, addressing no one specific, could make the faint red disappear. But when they opened their eyes again, it was still there.
They sighed again. This it is then, they thought, the end.
Not that existing here had been bad, they surely could have had worse. And they wished there was a different way for it all to end. They had always prefered water and ice, or even air and the wind, but this storm was not a mere wind and no matter how many prayers they spoke - flames would be flames.
Turning away from the closing threat on the sky, their eyes wandered over the place that they called their home.
They have always been unable to put into words what they saw, at least to mortal ears their descriptions would always sound like nothing but utter gibberish. Words in the mortal tongue such as beautiful or mesmerizing were not enough.
Soon, all of this will be gone. Faded. Erased by a storm, that only they could see coming.
They wondered why. Perhaps it was, because they were not as blind to darkness as the other angels. Who knew? Sometimes they wished they were as blind as the others. Oblivious even, to the darkness that surrounded them. Oblivious to the flames drawing closer.
Zachariah wondered what would actually happen, when the storm would hit heaven. Would they all... die? What would the death of an immortal being look like? When their heaven was gone - where would they go?
"Impossible." They thought out loud. And for the blink of an eye, for just a moment, they believed too, that they were just mad, as Michael had said. But then they noticed the red storm, in the corner of their eye, and reality hit them.
The storm had drawn closer, the red shine had gotten bigger. They had to admit, that they actually had no idea, where it came from and what it was, exactly. A gift of the devil? Perhaps.
They had enough thinking about the cloosing doom, so they tried to turn their back to it and walk away.
"The storm does not scare me." They mumbled and it appeared, that they were trying to convince themselves of the words they said. They could claim to be not afraid all they wanted, but the truth was: They were. They have never before been afraid in their existance, of course, heaven gave no reasons for fear, but now they were.
They fled to the center of the heavenly place, tried to warn the others, again and again. But nobody listened.
And when they finally did, when they finally saw the storm coming too, it was too late.
"He will save us." One of them said.
"He will not abandon us." Another one agreed.
Who, he? Zachariah wondered. God? But which deity was actually looking out for them? Did anyone know?
They, for sure, didn't. And when the storm hit heaven, they were sure, that there was no God.
And that they were about to die.
They found themselves caught in the eye of the storm and they could feel the heat burning their wings. Suddenly, everything went black. And they fell.
And fell.
And fell.
After falling what felt like hours, trying to grab hold of something, anything, to save themselves, they landed.
They took a deep breath and breathed water. Their eyes opened and they saw the sparkling water, the moon eluminating the soft waves and the stars glitter on the lake's surface. In the background they heard a waterfall.
Then everything went black again and Zachariah allowed themselves to be soothed by the cool touch of the water.
At leas the storm had passed.
"You're mad, Zachariah. There are no storms in heaven."
"What a pity, then, that this is the last place, I would call heaven."
"You should watch your tongue, Zachariah. Or at one point, your wings might burn."
"This summer storm will not only burn mine, dear Michael, but all of our wings."
"Let's hope you're just mad, then."
"There is no hope."
Shaking his head again, Michael turned his back on Zaire and walked away without another word.
Zaire themselves sighed out loud. Of course. They did not expect anyone to believe him, but they had hoped that at least Michael, who was known as the voice of reason in he heavens, would lend them an ear. It looked as though they were wrong.
They stared at the slight hint of fiery red, like a splatter of blood, that had started to show.
For the unknowing eye, this might as well look like the sun setting, but there was no sun in heaven. Zaire wished, it would turn out to be something harmless, but they knew, it wasn't.
A storm was coming. Fire and blood. It would be bad.
They closed their eyes and spoke a quick prayer, as if the mumbled words, addressing no one specific, could make the faint red disappear. But when they opened their eyes again, it was still there.
They sighed again. This it is then, they thought, the end.
Not that existing here had been bad, they surely could have had worse. And they wished there was a different way for it all to end. They had always prefered water and ice, or even air and the wind, but this storm was not a mere wind and no matter how many prayers they spoke - flames would be flames.
Turning away from the closing threat on the sky, their eyes wandered over the place that they called their home.
They have always been unable to put into words what they saw, at least to mortal ears their descriptions would always sound like nothing but utter gibberish. Words in the mortal tongue such as beautiful or mesmerizing were not enough.
Soon, all of this will be gone. Faded. Erased by a storm, that only they could see coming.
They wondered why. Perhaps it was, because they were not as blind to darkness as the other angels. Who knew? Sometimes they wished they were as blind as the others. Oblivious even, to the darkness that surrounded them. Oblivious to the flames drawing closer.
Zachariah wondered what would actually happen, when the storm would hit heaven. Would they all... die? What would the death of an immortal being look like? When their heaven was gone - where would they go?
"Impossible." They thought out loud. And for the blink of an eye, for just a moment, they believed too, that they were just mad, as Michael had said. But then they noticed the red storm, in the corner of their eye, and reality hit them.
The storm had drawn closer, the red shine had gotten bigger. They had to admit, that they actually had no idea, where it came from and what it was, exactly. A gift of the devil? Perhaps.
They had enough thinking about the cloosing doom, so they tried to turn their back to it and walk away.
"The storm does not scare me." They mumbled and it appeared, that they were trying to convince themselves of the words they said. They could claim to be not afraid all they wanted, but the truth was: They were. They have never before been afraid in their existance, of course, heaven gave no reasons for fear, but now they were.
They fled to the center of the heavenly place, tried to warn the others, again and again. But nobody listened.
And when they finally did, when they finally saw the storm coming too, it was too late.
"He will save us." One of them said.
"He will not abandon us." Another one agreed.
Who, he? Zachariah wondered. God? But which deity was actually looking out for them? Did anyone know?
They, for sure, didn't. And when the storm hit heaven, they were sure, that there was no God.
And that they were about to die.
They found themselves caught in the eye of the storm and they could feel the heat burning their wings. Suddenly, everything went black. And they fell.
And fell.
And fell.
After falling what felt like hours, trying to grab hold of something, anything, to save themselves, they landed.
They took a deep breath and breathed water. Their eyes opened and they saw the sparkling water, the moon eluminating the soft waves and the stars glitter on the lake's surface. In the background they heard a waterfall.
Then everything went black again and Zachariah allowed themselves to be soothed by the cool touch of the water.
At leas the storm had passed.