A little piece i wrote for self-care day for FE Artscuffle! i thought it would be fun to experiment with the initial idea i had for my selekumi chang'e/houyi mythology AU, in kiragi's pov. Under the read more:
Nighttime was a dangerous time to be out wandering alone in the wilderness, Kiragi’s caretakers would often say to him whenever he would go out hunting in the early evening. You need your rest, milord, was their reasoning, but Kiragi never missed the way their eyes betrayed them, surreptitious gazes trailing warily up to the sky, landing on the ghostly form of the moon, where even during the daytime, glowed in a faint circle of red. Beware of staying out too late, they would simply finish, but Kiragi knew what they really wanted to say. Lest the crimson moon drain you of your blood as well, went the rest of the saying. It had been an absurd story concocted out of fear and conspiracy during the aftermath of the calamity, that later came to be a common warning muttered out on the streets. But no one would dare utter it within the confines of the palace where the royal family resided, and especially not to Kiragi himself. Not when he was partly the reason the moon turned red in the first place. But it was also because of that that Kiragi reveled in being out here in the forest, with just himself and his bow and the sound of wilderness, sitting by the river soaking up the moonlight. To him, the moon had always been the color of crimson, the very same shade as his hair, the very same hair he had inherited from his mother. And since no one would come out here, save for his father sometimes, no one could tell him what to do, or what to think. For at least a few hours, he could be away from the stares of onlookers that lingered far too uncomfortably on him as he or his father passed by, nor would Kiragi have to hear the secretive whispers behind his back about his family, their words both pitying and disparaging. A guilty part of him was also glad to be away from his father, if only for a brief amount of time, so Kiragi would not have to witness the grief flicker over his father's face whenever his father took notice of him. But most importantly, the moon always seemed to glow a smidge more brightly when Kiragi was out here, like it was watching over him—like his mother was watching over him. And perhaps it was delusional, but the idea gave Kiragi some semblance of comfort. Even if he had never met her, even if nearly no one wanted to speak of her, then at least Kiragi had some form of her presence in his life. Kiragi wanted to believe his mother was just like him, that she was just like his father, that she was just like any other person. Someone who did what she had to out of necessity, and not because she was a monster, not that she was indeed the spiteful goddess who had stolen his father’s legacy and escaped to the moon, like many others would like Kiragi to believe.
