Characters- Henry, the moon man. Endless eyes forever watching?
Plot- Henry plays in the stars.
A/n- Henry i love you, and thank you for kicking off this blog. I can't wait to do more with you Henry!
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He swayed and sung with stars that seemed to hang. With galaxies and Valkyries he stays. Wings made of the inky black, freckled with the colors of the night.
He drifted peacefully some days. Willing to let nature take him away. Other days he swam, glided through empty space with friends he made along the way.
From small little fae to gentle giant whales. He left a mark of life on a colorful void. Drifting gently from planet to planet.
He was a void, the shape of what ever he chose. Made of stardust and solar systems. He seemed to decorate the land.
He paints the sky at night, with precise and powerful movements. He was quiet in his ways, silent and kind. He knows what comes in the dark, the beauty and the terror.
Those who use it to hide, and those who use it to see. The moon seems brighter some days. Someday its dimmer. He sees what happens at night, in moonless skies and bright nights.
Hes flattered, to find so many people love the moon, the dark skies and starry seas. So many bathe in the light of the moon. Earth really is one of his favorite planets. He stays for a while, before he has to go.
He travels from place to place, as much as he would like to stay. He falls in love with the stars we paint in place of him. He memorizes every fleck and dot. Learning the names and singing them softly.
He has wings made of a neon glow. Around a void with feathers set to flow. e sits on moons, watching the planets turn. He burns the sun and watches it grow.
He is everlasting in a world we are so easily replaced. We retrace our steps, through life and life again. He watches us stumble through our short years. Laughing with the jokers and mourning with the somber. Enlightens the stoic and guides the lost.
He can never stay too long though. He would rather separate with his last thoughts of them smiling widely. Than breathing into the stars for one last dance. No, he would rather burn the sun and moon, set the world out of place. But this was not his place, to decide who lives or dies.
He was just a moon man walking among the stars. But the stars never let him wander alone for long.
He made friend, human, alien, and non descriptive blobs alike. Henry never had many close friends. Nor did he feel like many would understand. He did though. He was friends with the universe them self.
He circles the nebula like a brush mixing paint. Flecks of stars mix like glitter, chemicals paint the empty void to be full of life. A wash of black to highlight the importance of it all.
Every speck of darkness, every speck of color. Every nebula, every galaxy, every single person here. Henry knew the name of, he new their favorite food, their favorite color. He mourns all of them, but he keeps how beautiful they are closer than the pain.
Every little grass blade is important to Henry. Every little star dust, the sand between his finger tips. Every single bit, whether or not they saw themselves like he saw them.
He sees them art works, like an opportunity to be taught. He sees us like the most beautiful art in the world, and he asks for little in return.
The only thing he does ask for though, if just for you to stay in the sky a little longer. Just so he isnt as lonely as he would be without you.
tag list!
@honestlywhatthefxck @godoflittlenightmares @ the goblins who won’t answer me
My lips are chafed; my tongue is rough as it brushes against the roof of my mouth. I feel as if I’ve just woken up from a long sleep, sight blurry and limbs trembling. Numbness overwhelms me, a tingly feeling, akin to electricity travelling through my veins.
The Creator crouches down in front of me. She turns my head from side to side, flashes a light in my eyes and watches my pupils dilate. I growl scratchily at her. My throat doesn’t seem capable of making any clear sounds right now. I’m parched.
Creator presses something into the groove of my neck. It’s metallic, and I smell the iron tang of blood. It smells familiar and seems to awaken something inside of me. I try to move my hands, only to find them shackled and chained to the wall.
Her lips move but I can’t make out what she’s saying. It sounds like gibberish to me. She makes an irritated noise, and taps out something on the floating screen. Everything suddenly comes into focus, my senses sharpening in an instant.
“Talk to me,” she whispers as she lifts my head, checking my neck. “-intelligent?”
I only catch the end of her statement and I try to rasp out a response. Creator clicks her tongue.
She stands, and I only notice the soothing music playing from the walls when it stops. “Come find me when your mind decides to work better.”
Creator presses a button on the screen and the shackles break apart. My limbs are still too numb for me to do anything.
She leaves. The moment she does so, the room is thrown into darkness.
-=-
Day 1: Creator works in a pet shop.
It’s a cute little shop, with floating fairy lights glowing a gentle azure and the top hits of the week playing from the walls. The pets are all kept in cages, lined up neatly against the wall, the animals within all tame.
The chimera on the counter coughs, spitting flames, and I throw water at it. It growls at me, its tail whipping around rapidly. I barely pull my lips over my teeth before it cowers. Despite it being capable of burning down a house by accident, this animal is surprisingly lackluster. It is one of Creator’s first successes.
It has been on the shelf for almost a year, according to Creator. Something unheard of in her shop. Petropica is the first pet store to sell new and exotic crossbreeds, and customers visit Creator’s shop everyday.
A young girl in a pink dress with ruffles materializes with her mother at the front of the shop, and I bow. They’re regulars. Creator made me memorize all the regulars and how they like to be treated. Customer service is always important.
The woman jerks at the sight of me. The scent of fear seeps into the air.
“I-I’d like to speak to the owner of this establishment,” she forces out. Her lips are trembling. My mind is confused about her emotion. Creator has ensured that I look as approachable as possible. She should not be feeling fear.
Creator enters through a door. My mind’s data processor is connected to the screens in her laboratory. Creator knows that she is needed.
While Creator talks with the lady, the young girl picks out three animals. All three are chimeras. Animals with a lion’s head, a goat’s head, and a snake’s head for a tail. Calling forth previous security videos, I realize that she has only bought chimeras thus far.
“I promise to take better care of you this time,” she whispers to them. “I won’t accidentally kill you again.”
When they leave with their purchase, I smile and bow. Creator has long since returned to her room.
-=-
Day 5: Creator’s shop is illegal.
It is not a shock. Looking through the government policies in my mind, it is evident that they consider animal experimentation of this level “inhumane” and “dangerous”. Creator has spoken of this at length with me. The address of the shop is a secret, spread only amongst the rich and the underground market.
I am in charge of keeping track of those who enter and leave. Creator wants me to memorize their faces and smell. Their two most distinctive features, Creator says. That’s fine. The data collector in my mind stores everything and I can pull anything to the front of my mind with ease.
Creator intends for me to be the last line of defense if anyone ever discovers this place. Her inventions and her mind are top priority. I will have to stall for time to assist her escape. This is why she created me, after all.
Creator is the one who gave me life, the same way she gave all the other animals in this shop life. Illegal or not, it is not our position to question her decisions. Creator may be breaking the law with this shop, but it is the customers who keep this shop thriving, and they are the ones at fault.
For an illegal shop, business is booming.
-=-
Day 26: Creator’s body doesn’t really belong to her.
Day by day, Creator seems to tell me a bit more about herself. She didn’t use to have a right arm, and her left leg was shattered to bits in a hover accident. The scientist that found her gave her an arm and a leg, artificially attaching another’s limbs to her.
Creator wanted to learn the art of attaching different parts of the human anatomy to someone, in memory of that scientist. Human experimentation was punishable by death, so she went for animal experimentation instead. Organs were rearranged, nerves were detached, cells were split and tampered with.
It was a resounding success. This shop is proof of that, Creator says.
Creator never talks about her failures.
-=-
Day 32: Creator discovers something.
“This could change the world as it is,” she mumbles excitedly as she bustles around her workspace. The animal in question is unconscious on the operation table, laid parallel to the ground.
The animal greatly resembles Creator. It looks almost human. Or, at least the top half does. The bottom half is scaly and reeks of fish.
Merman, the word flies through my mind. The one thing that Creator has tried to create for the longest time. A merger of human and animal. Land and water. Predator and prey.
Creator scribbles down the animal’s vitals, making occasional murmurs as she pours over her notes. She has been planning for this for a long time. It will be her entrance into the scientific field. She will prove that human experimentation is necessary in furthering the evolution of the human species. Genetic engineering is her next step. To take the DNA of one species and successfully transfer it to another. If transference of physical body is successful, why shouldn’t genetic transference be the same?
The smell of blood is faint in the air. I trace it back to Creator. She is bleeding from her fingers. Overworking herself? It is not my position to question.
I stay silent.
-=-
Day 56: Creator is crying.
The shop is still open. Customers still arrive in trickles and drizzles. They pop in and out, their watches flaring neon green as they calculate the wearer’s vitals. Animals are sold. Customers make requests.
“You know, my darling dear has always wanted something a little more… fanciful than these things,” a pot-bellied man says, waving his hand around the shop. “Maybe something with a little more… poison?”
“My wife insists on having a baby penguin capable of spitting flames and flight. I hope you won’t disappoint.” A dashing young businessman comments, before stepping back into the TePo to teleport elsewhere.
A young boy furtively looks around before saying in what he must think is a whisper, “can you make a kitty with a snake tail fly?” He smiles hopefully before running back to his mother’s side.
I take them all down. Behind the door, I still hear sobs.
Creator has been rejected by the cruel people who don’t properly appreciate her intellect and work.
-=-
Day 100: Creator is found out.
Someone has sold Creator out. There are people forcing their way in through the ceiling, people popping in through the TePo without a pause, people with their RAYs out and ready to shoot.
I can hear Creator struggling to gather her notes. My role is to stall for time.
Most of the attack team is shocked at seeing me. Horrified. The stench of fear and disgust fills the air. I bare my teeth. The stench increases.
It takes them quite a while to get me down. Their RAY lasers bounce off my skin; the electricity they wield feels like pinpricks on my nerves; their fists are no match for mine. But where quality is lacking, they make up in quantity. Soon enough, I’m flat on my back, limbs bound with cuffs that bend to wrap around my joints with a strength large enough to suffocate me, had it been around my neck.
They drag me out of the shop and I let my body sag, giving them a hard time. But when we pass by a reflective screen, I tense up.
From the day I was created, I have never looked at myself. I have always assumed that I was like Creator, just with more chips inserted to promote function.
I dig my claws into the ground and take a good, long look.
I am a lion. With the legs of a goat and horns of an antelope. The stripes of a tiger. The arms of a gorilla.
I’m nothing like Creator.
… My fingers slowly uncurl, and I let them drag me away.
