Nighttime. [ dks & hk ]
“Uwahg.” Kyungsoo groaned as he woke from his nap beneath a tree in the park. Wiping his face down with his hands, the fae sat up and surveyed the area. He still had all his items, his book lay by his side, his wallet was still snuggle in his back pocket and his watch was firmly on his wrist, so no one had tried to rob him while he was asleep. “Good sign.”
He didn’t make a habit of falling asleep outside, but he had been exhausted as of late. Apparently his body felt that he needed sleep, sleep surrounded by what made him come into being. Kyungsoo had to admit, he felt a lot better now that he was awake, but glancing at his watch and looking up at the sky, “Hm, it was daylight when I nodded off and now the moon is high in sky. Wow, 5 hours and no one even bothered to see if I was alive?”
“Hmmph.” He looked around, noticing a young man sitting on a bench. “Sir!” He called to the other, standing and making his way over. Really, Kyungsoo was quite irritated that he’d been asleep for so long and no one had even mustered up the courage to poke him and see if he were a corpse. It wasn’t right to take it out on the stranger, but he needed to vent and he approached the boy with furrowed brows and a determination to let out some steam “Have you been here long? What if I were laying ill ov-” That was when Kyungsoo noticed the young man gazing at the stars and a small notebook beside him, figures and words scribbled on the pages, “Oh! I’m so sorry. You’re actually doing something aren’t you?” - @mxkanata
he begins with this, a preconceived knowledge adopted to essentialize further studies. the age of the world is written in the skies, evident of which decides to become a single star centered in a cityー or, perhaps, a gentle overview of jupiter's shadows in the empyrean of a lonely valley. he sat in the dying twilight, where the grass stains itself misty on the surface of his palms. today's tuition was more of a romanticized recognition than a gradual grasp at sky studies.
he hurried from home as the sun began to lower on the horizon, bleeding yellow-orange silhouettes to his walls as the day clung. upon his arrival did he seek a lack of tolerance for polite-constructed conversation. a scent of which became eager to him as burning grass subdued, slowly, when moon wanted 12-hour presence in exchange from the sun. time is a mundane concept he has lost track of. he has achieved an unfathomable nature of knowing.
he looks to the messily-strewn details on his notebook. failing to adjust to the lack of light, he realizes his words were climbing out of the margins, spaced in abnormal chunks, and scrawn on areas nowhere near the lines. for a moment on shortness, he extracts his attention from his nightly observations. a voice calls near his way, all his thoughts becoming a sudden, short-lived and fleeting experience (be that as it may have amused him). his eyes grow weak against the diminishing light when he finds a man had continued. "you slept peacefully," he responds. his index finger digs into his thumb when he tries to build sense over what he says. then, he remembers, honesty is probably wisest. "i arrived probably no later than you did." he feels the latter's eyes skim over his loose notebooks and he rests his palms, flat, on its cover. his smile is fraught-finding.
"astral discoveries."
