Summary: Lingji cannot sleep because of some old pictures of the stars making some bittersweet feelings resurfaces, but thankfully she doesn’t have to be all alone with them.
Notes: Trying to make a new tradition of writing a F/F Ciconia ship for every FemFeb lol. This is for Day 8: Constellations, from those prompts! Though as it is often the case with my FemFeb stuff I don’t like it much orz. But I’m still glad to have been able to write anything at all given how little energy and motivation I have lately! So yay
Anyway, it’s going to be almost 2 years since I last played the VN now (cry) and I don’t remember if they ever mention anything about the state of the stars or of the sky in Cico-verse so sorry if there’s inconsistencies, but given how bad the climate and the pollution is after WW3, I’m guessing it… must not be great. I wanted to make more references to Chinese astrology/constellations initially, but then I don’t know THAT much about it and it can be a bit complicated so I didn’t want to make mistakes.
This takes place somewhere within Phase 1 after Miyao & co creates the chivalry order (but before everything goes to hell, obviously), sooo brief spoilers if you haven't finished it I guess? And there's no particular content warnings except for vague mentions of war/child soldiers, which is kind of obligatory par with this story anyway.
It was way too late, and Lingji had been staring at those old photographs for much longer than she’d planned. She really should just go to bed now — but her mind refused to let it go. Her fingers gently traced the speckles of lights and white on the decrepit glossy paper, frozen sparkles of a time forgotten, and as she did so a strange feeling blossomed in her heart.
She looked behind her, towards the large windows that harbored the hall she’d been resting in. Outside the military base, it was completely dark — and while the lights of the faraway city illuminated the surrounding well enough, there was no sign of stars in the sky above. Well, it wasn’t like she had expected it to be otherwise. It was how it had always been, since even before she was born — since even before her parents, her grandparents were born.
Being able to see the stars at night had become a rarity in this world. It was possible only in a very few specific, key isolated places, completely cut from all civilization, that had managed to be slightly spared from the pollution and the environment damage of World War III. But Lingji had never visited such a place, so she couldn’t attest of its veracity.
The only stars she’d ever seen were on pictures, sparse remnants of the past from before the war, such as the ones she was holding in her hands. It made her feel odd and melancholic, like she was in possession of something incredibly precious and common at the same time.
“Princess?”
A voice she knew intimately well got her out of her thoughts, and when she raised her head she saw Aysha walking down the corridor towards her. She was wearing casual clothes, a pretty elegant nightgown long enough to brush her feet, as if she was about to go to sleep… or maybe had been sleeping and had just woken up. Lingji had been the same a few hours prior; ready to go to bed, brown braids undone and golden nightgown put on, but in the end she hadn’t been able to close her eyes, not since her grandfather had given her this box full of ancient photographs. She didn’t know how late it was now exactly, but she knew it must’ve been quite bad if Aysha were staring at her with this much surprise.
“My, that’s really you,” her teammate continued, as if she had thought her sight had been tricking her. “What on earth are you doing so late outside your room?”
“I was… well, I got busy with something and couldn’t concentrate in my room.”
Aysha’s eyes narrowed in a malicious or teasing way; Lingji was never really able to tell with her. “Is that so? If a supervisor were to see you out there like this, you’d be badly scolded. Is our princess starting to become a delinquent?”
Lingji chuckled softly, but she didn’t really feel in a mood where she could humor Aysha’s teasing, her eyes still clinging to the photos between her hands.
The other girl stopped in front of her, and stayed silent for a moment. Then her gaze fell on the pictures Lingji was holding, and she tilted her head.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, not particularly…”
“Then what are these?”
“Ah, they’re… pictures my grandfather lend to me. Pictures of constellations, that dates from before the war.”
Aysha’s turquoise eyes widened, in a way that was very unusual to see on her face. “Wait, you mean these things are at least one hundred years old?”
“Apparently, yes. Grandfather told me they have been carefully conserved by our family for decades. He recently found them back and thought I’d appreciate to look at them.”
“Huh. Well, if they’re from the Liu family, no wonder they were able to get preserved for such a long time.”
There were thorns hidden in Aysha’s words. There almost always were thorns hidden in every single one of her words; Lingji was well-aware of that. A needle soaked in poison — not to kill or even hurt, but bitter enough to make you wince as if you’d just drink vinegar.
Lingji knew that most of the time, Aysha didn’t like her very much. From time to time, when she looked at her, when their gaze crossed, she could see a myriad of conflicted feelings shine in her eyes; jealousy, annoyance, resentment, grudge.
Lingji wasn’t the best at reading others, but even she had been able to realize this after a while.
But she didn’t know how to deal with that, so she just kept coming back to her ignoring the issue.
“Are you knowledgeable about stars and constellations, Aysha?”
“Hah. Not for the life of me, Princess. The only thing I could tell you is if they look pretty or not.”
Lingji’s expression softened, and she smiled. “So? Are they pretty?”
She turned the pictures towards her friend, and Aysha arched one eyebrow. For once, she seemed to hesitate a little; a rare sight to behold. “I… suppose so. But it is hard to tell with only this old picture.”
“It is, isn’t it…”
Lingji sighed, then let her gaze fell once more on the old, dead immortalized sparkles that had shined a century ago. She heard a faint sigh, then suddenly the cushion on the bank next to her flattened before she realized Aysha had just sat to her left. She was so close that Lingji could feel their shoulders brush each other.
“Grandfather Tiankai once told me… that in ancient China, my people held constellations in very high regard. They considered that someone who could read the stars could read the future. That they could rule China.”
“Hmm… then what about you?”
“Huh?”
“Can you? Read the stars.”
Lingji lifted her head, golden eyes crossing turquoise ones. Aysha was staring straight at her with a strange mischievous expression, and she felt as if she was being tested.
As if she was asking her if she was worthy to lead them, to lead Baibao, to be a Gauntlet Knights, a master of the chivalry order Miyao had just created.
Lingji had been raised to be a leader; that had been decided, drilled into her from even before she was born. She never doubted it, and was confident in her abilities. That was how others had always saw her too, be it her parents and grandparents, Momotake, the other Gauntlet Knights, the other soldiers — she was at the very top, and all respected her as such.
All but Aysha. She would never voice it out loud, would never show it openly, but she’d learned, through little hints and gestures, that the other girl refused and challenged her birth-bestowed authority at every turn.
And somehow, while under every other circumstances, in front of any other person, Lingji never wavered in who she was and what she was capable of, she did in front of Aysha.
“I…” She swallowed. “I cannot. I can… maybe recognize two or three of them, but…”
“Hm. Well, yes, that makes sense. It’s not like we can practice a lot over there, huh.”
As she spoke, Aysha turned around and looked at the complete darkness of the sky through the window, like Lingji had just done a little while ago. For a moment, a heavy silence installed itself between the two of them, and finally Lingji hesitantly moved her lips.
“Do you wish we could still see the stars?”
Aysha didn’t look away from the sky as she answered: “No.”
“No…?”
“I mean… I guess it’d be nice, cause it’d mean our world wouldn’t be as polluted as it is currently. But… I don’t really care for the stars myself. No offense, Princess, but I think your people of ancient China were a little silly. Someone reading the stars can in no way rule over anything.”
Lingji stared at her for a while, then smiled, even if Aysha still couldn’t see it.
“I… wish we could. I wish we could still see the stars and the constellations.”
Aysha snorted. “Of course you do. That’s just like you. Always dreaming.”
“Is that a bad thing? I just wish… You know, I just wish we could’ve gotten to admire the stars in the sky, just like our ancestors did. I wish we’d be able to fly as high as those stars, too. Our gauntlets can only go so far.”
“And what would you do then, all up there? It’d be boring as hell, if you ask me.”
Lingji laughed out loud at this, and Aysha looked up at her curiously.
“Well, that is just a dream, after all.”
She reached out her hand, and took Aysha’s in hers. That seemed to take her teammate off guard, as she widened her eyes with a start. She was usually always putting on this meticulous, cunning joker facet contrasting Momotake’s earnest and open personality, so that wasn’t often Lingji was able to surprise Aysha and get a reaction like this out of her. However, in this instant, just for a second, she looked very vulnerable; and she couldn’t really tell because of the dim light, but she could’ve sworn she even saw her blush.
More importantly, she didn’t try to disentangle her hand away.
“I’m… not saying I don’t completely understand that,” Aysha suddenly said, frowning slightly and looking back at the window. “It would nice, to fly to the stars and… maybe be able to start again in another, completely new planet. A completely new world.”
But that’s just not realistic. She didn’t say that part out loud, but Lingji could hear it all the same. Because, unlike her, Aysha wasn’t a dreamer.
“Heheh. Does that mean you’d come with me, then? Across the Milky Way?”
“If you find a way to do it, who knows. Maybe. Maybe not.”
Lingji wasn’t as much of a dreamer to think that something like that was actually possible. But, sometimes, impossible dreams were the only thing that was able to keep you alive.
Without saying a word, she let her head fall on Aysha’s shoulder. She could feel her body tense at her contact; feel her breath on her forehead; feel her fingers intertwined with her own.
There was still no sound and no other people in the corridor, just the two of them, in the middle of the night with pictures of dead constellations in their hands, in front of a black, starless sky.
Even so, the Milky Way must still be somewhere out there, hidden deeper and farer, concealed from their eyes. It must still exist, even if it was inaccessible to their broken world.
Lingji felt at peace thinking like this. No matter how much Aysha might dislikes her, she loved her and felt safe by her side, more than with anybody, and that was enough for now. Aysha helped the dreamer she was to stay grounded, helped her be the leader she wasn’t in her eyes. She wondered if she was aware of how much she was irreplaceable to her.
Still, she said nothing about it. A part of her felt Aysha wouldn’t take it well if she were to say this to her right now.
Reaching Aysha’s feelings felt as difficult as crossing the Milky Way and be able to see those hidden stars, but at least Lingji could keep dreaming about it.
