Solo Gratias ad Astra

[Atticus Leslie]

41st of Spring, Solar Winds Apartments

Atticus sat on the edge of the singular window in his apartment, his feet hanging off the ledge and over Zintia peak. Most of Lhavit was asleep now, but Atticus was... Restless. Sleep evaded him on nights like this, where the air was still and the lights were dim and the night shone in glorious brilliance that seemed to project their light past the young boy's ever-observing eyes and directly to his memory. It was on nights like this Atticus remembered why he did what he did.

The late Spring air was refreshing, and smelled lightly of distant flowers and pollen. It felt inviting, but the boy didn't dare leave and wander on that night. Not when he could miss such a beautiful sight. He kicked his legs happily above the streets, tightening his grip on the window's edge from inside the apartment, as he smiled to himself, happily reminiscing about nothing in particular. He loved it all, without a single doubt. It was such a beautiful night. Such a beautiful night. He raised a finger to the unending cosmos, tracing out distant constellations and wondering about distant worlds, distant stars. He wondered what things there would look like. If things there wondered about him. What their constellations would look like. It was all entrancing. Remarkable, without a single doubt.

Sometimes he wondered if his love was peculiar. Atticus - unlike the others of Leslie blood - wasn't keen on travelling the world he lived in. He hadn't visited Zeltiva or Riverfall or Kenash, Syliras or Sahova. He hadn't wandered the wilderness or hunted for bestial blood, nor had he any desire to. He hadn't seen any wonders that were beyond Lhavit, and he didn't at all consider himself at the lesser for it. Occasionally, he had wondered if others may. Everyone seemed so... Cultured. Davor Aveloz from Kalinor, Aimee Fabron from Zeltiva, Boo Beckett from a smathering of distant cities and cultures Atticus could hardly remember upon concentration, much less recite off the top of his head. No, Atticus wasn't a traveler, he figured. Why would he traverse this world when there were so many more? Sometimes he peered at the cosmos in all their infinite glory and thought it a shame that, out of the countless thousands, he had only been to one of the stars. Only walked one of the worlds. Only breathed one world's air.

A shame, in all honesty.

But it wasn't a bad view.

Actually... It was probably his favorite view.

Absently, questions began to race, as they always had when Atticus hadn't slept much recently. Most were more non sequitur, wondering how many people before him had sat on this windowsill and why, how many people had sat in the plaza below him, how many people had leaned against the wall he was above. He wondered how many people had fallen in love here. How many people had done exactly what he was doing now. What gods they held reverence to.

Which had gotten Atticus thinking...

Boxcode by Verena

[Atticus Leslie]

Where did his own divine loyalties lie? Did he require divine loyalties? Did anyone?

Atticus knew of the existence of gods - hell, one lived right down the street from him. He never doubted it. He never doubted a god's importance. Or Zintila's. Did his loyalty lie in his bloodline? Were gods a birthright or was it something that the individual decided? Was it something anybody decided or do you just... Feel it's right?

Atticus climbed inside his apartment and began pacing on the dusty wooden floor with bare feet, listening to the echoes they made in the nearly barren apartment as he considered deitous reverence. He wondered absently what his parents would have worshipped. His mother... Maybe a god of... Art? He didn't know. Probably Syna. She'd probably say something like "She illuminates the world I find myself in for me. That's something to be grateful for."

Atticus smiled to himself as he remembered her. Syna would be a leader she'd follow. Kind and delicate in nature, strong and resilient in will. Syna would illuminate the flower, my mother would paint its likeness. It's a perfect combination. Of course he had no way of knowing what god or goddess they actually followed. It's not like they were around to tell him, either. So the best he could do is presume based on the limited amount of information he knew.

Atticus approached the window once more and gazed into the open sky, locking eyes with Leth. That's a god, he thought to himself. It was almost unreal that they existed. That they were present constantly. That, in some small part of their being, they cared for Atticus. It was honestly flattering. Beautiful. They never faltered to shine on Lhavit. They never faltered to make the city glow with their presence. He wondered if that was their intention, to shine on the city. He wondered if Leth could see him right then. He wondered if Leth was looking back, there from his heavenly pedestal. If they were looking at each other.

Atticus rested himself on the windowsill, staring ever more intently at the distant god. He raised his hand and waved at Leth. "Hello," He whispered. He doubted Leth could hear him. Maybe he could. If he did, then it was sure that he wouldn't reply. But he was there. And he was sure he cared for the city, much like Syna. Perhaps, in that sense, he was like Atticus' father. Ever present. Ever loving. Never there.

Maybe his father revered Leth. He worked under his reflection often enough. Perhaps he stared at the god and felt more connected to his family.

Atticus smiled at the thought, but was soon somewhat distraught.

He knew, now, what he felt his parents would have valued in gods. Syna's brightness. Leth's distance. But the question remained...

What about Atticus?

Boxcode by Verena

[Atticus Leslie]

He shrunk down beneath the window, feeling smaller than he had ever felt before. Lovely, then, that he knew that the gods most present in his town cared for Lhavit. Or, at least, that he believed that they did. And lovely that he believed his parents reflected that love back onto the deities respectfully. But that answered no questions personally.

Then again, insight on his roots may help him have a better understanding of things on a whole. Perhaps it was a matter of preference? Interest? Perhaps he should list the gods he knew of.

He held out his hand, counting on his fingers as he recited.

"Syna... Leth... Zintila... And then there-"

He stopped. Did he actually know any more than those three? It didn't much seem like it. Were more gods necessary? Probably not... Those were the only three he actually considered relevant. Either through ignorance or through necessity, he hadn't learned more of the heavenly pantheon. Were they the only gods? Probably not. Seeing as the ones he knew ruled over a very specific domain, and there were far more than three domains that could be represented. Far more. But perhaps he didn't want to revere anyone that didn't preside over a celestial domain. Perhaps it wasn't relevant to try. It was what he did. His living, his passion... Weren't religious beliefs supposed to reflect that?

Or did they dictate them?

It was clear that night. Amazingly clear. Atticus sat at the foot of his windowsill, staring up at the stars, as he had so many times before and would so many times after. They meant more to him than... Anything else. Everlasting. Forever burning. Great giants looming in the distance, seemingly only to gaze down upon him. And he was allowed to gaze back and bask in their beauty. Their infinite cosmic beauty.

He pushed himself up off of the floor and stared out upon his beloved city, the place that kept him safe and happy. So many times had he heard it was the City of the Stars. The Diamond of Kalea. So great, so infinitely gorgeous, put simply a a miracle he found himself in, making him a miracle as well. He had long heard from his fellow denizens that this place was blessed by the gods of the sky and the earth with unmatched beauty and grace. How did they know? What made them so sure Lhavit was so beautiful compared to the rest of the world? Had they seen the rest of the world?

Did they have to?

He stared off into the horizons of his city. If he squinted, he thought he could make out the Twuele. Even from two peaks away, he could see it. Or perhaps he thought he could. Regardless, it was a monument. A monument to Lhavit, stretching and reaching for the stars above. Not at all close, of course, but it just... Seemed that way. It seemed as if Lhavit was trying to become the star it thought it was.

Or maybe deliver one home.

Boxcode by Verena

[Atticus Leslie]

Suddenly, Atticus was struck by pains of melancholy.

How naive.

How idiotic.

How inconsiderate.

The Twuele wasn't reaching for the heavens to reclaim any former glory or to achieve any new horizons. It wasn't attempting to see better the stars above. It was built by the people of Lhavit over countless years by countless men and women for someone else. Someone who was greatly considered to be a fallen star herself. Someone whom Lhavit will owe an eternal debt. Someone who lived at the very top, pushed towards her she had forsaken by the people who loved her.

Great stars above, how could he have overlooked!? The goddess that made this place blessed, the goddess that fell from the realm of the divine itself, the goddess who became the beautiful, immortal queen of Lhavit! By the gods how stupid of him to forget!

Her domain was everything he loved. The immortal skies were what she ruled. The queen of all the heavens resided in the place he loved. Out of all the stars, out of all the untold number of worlds that existed, she fell here. Where Atticus was born. How had he not seen his own luck? Out of all the years that there had ever been, out of all the places, out of all the planets of all time, Atticus was born here. Out of all the planets of all the stars in all there ever was, Out of all the cities and places, out of all her domain, Zintila fell here. Now. She was here. It was almost... Unbelievable. A beautiful, fortunate coincidence. That she was here. Now. With him.

He was quickly snapped out of his reverie by a presence in the streets below. A Shinya. Doing his rounds. Maybe he had answers! Maybe he knew about Zintila!

"Hey!" Atticus yelled down to him. The Shinya stopped and looked up at the boy inquisitively.

"Stay there! I have questions!" He yelled once more.

The officer gave Atticus a thumbs up and the boy beamed at him. He bounded into his room and out the door, carefully keeping quiet in the halls and down the stairs as not to wake anyone. He mentally prepared a list of questions for the guard. He hoped he knew the answers, there was a good chance Atticus would have to settle for ignorance, which was something of an unfortunate thought. He was just getting interested.

He shook with excitement as he exited the front doors and entered the cool, new air, intent on learning more about his new goddess.

Boxcode by Verena

[Atticus Leslie]

Atticus didn't have time to think about the atmosphere or beauty of the moment, how temperate it was or how pretty the skies were. There was no time at all to stop to smell roses. He needed to know.

He rounded the corner, the sound of his bare feet slapping against the streets echoing quietly in the nearly empty plaza. He ran up to the Shinya and apologized quickly.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

"No, no... I was just curious about some things." Atticus offered in response.

The Shinya motioned for Atticus to follow as he did his rounds. Atticus nodded eagerly.

"What are your concerns about?" He asked.

"I want to know more about Zintila. Do you know much about her?"

The Shinya nodded slowly. "I've done some work with the Constellations in my free time. I know a fair amount."

"Good! Good. Um... To begin... Why did Zintila fall?"

"It was a choice, son." The Shinya replied, sure of himself. "During the Valterrian, Zintila's mother Semele was dying. Zintila gave Semele her power so that she may live, but Zintila didn't have enough left to remain among the pantheon. So she fell from her throne in the sky to us, here." The Shinya looked over at the young stargazer and smiled. "Or, at least, that's what I've been told."

Atticus made a mental note. He heard bits and pieces about the Valterrian over his life. He knew it was some kind of... Event that brought about the near destruction of Mizahar. But that was about all. Semele, on the other hand, he knew little about.

"Semele?"

The Shinya nodded. "The goddess of the earth below. She's the mother of Zintila."

"Oh... I see." Atticus responded. "What about her father?"

The man thought for a moment. "I can't say I'm sure."

Atticus made another mental note. "Does she want to go back?"

"Back where?"

"Back... To the stars." Atticus added, motioning at the heavens above.

"I don't know about that. I think so. I would if I were her, you know? It's kind of just what everyone assumes."

"But you don't know?"

The Shinya paused. "No. I suppose I don't."

"Does anyone?"

"Zintila does."

Boxcode by Verena

[Atticus Leslie]

Atticus nodded in response to the guard. He waved goodbye, yelling a polite "thank you" on his way back to the Solar Winds. People were beginning to wake up, now. The city grew more and more active by the tick, as people groggily began to wake up and traverse the roads once more. Atticus, now was not quite as frightened of making something of a racket as before. He ran up the stairs and into his apartment quickly, not stopping to think about how he might appear. He closed the door behind him and stared, once again, out the window.

The city was moving. Alive and pulsating, like a gentle but sure heartbeat, as if it were breathing it moved. The ebb and flow of movement was something natural, now, to the Leslie boy, but not something that went unappreciated. It was, by all accounts everything beautiful he loved under the stars. The movement of people, running their individual lives, all with their individual and unique personalities and passions. They found a home here. Sometimes he liked to imagine that the stars looked upon Lhavit with the same enamored gaze that Atticus stared at them with. And now...

Now he knew who to thank for his home.

Atticus poked his head out of the open window and stared quietly at the tower in the distance. She's in there, he thought to himself. She's staring out at the city, staring out at the stars, just like me. Right now. It seemed... Nearly unbelievable. Incredible. He couldn't believe it at all.

If he looked out his window towards the tower, he could see Zintila. He could see her home. Where she stayed. If he looked over the horizon of Zintia Peak, he could make out the glow of Poten Temple, easily distinguishable among the backlights. Her place of business. The home of her chosen. He wasn't surrounded by the Star of Kalea, he was surrounded by the fallen stars themselves.

He looked up at the inky black night, the sky somewhat dull now from the lights that had been ignited but still visible. He stared at Leth. He stared at the sky. The sky he had fallen in love with nearly at the point of his birth. The sky he had forever been in love with. The thing that brought him untold comfort when he needed it most. And it was hers. She made that possible for him.

By the sweet gods above, how lucky was he?

Slowly, as if guided by either instinct or hand, he knelt before the window, so that the stars were all he could see. He pressed his palms together and intertwined his fingers, placing them on the wall before him. He gazed for just a moment more, tracing in his head the constellations he had memorized over the years for a final time, before resting his forehead gently against the wall as well, and closing his eyes.

He cleared his throat.

"Um... Hello! I don't know if you can hear me... Or if people even pray to you, but... I want to thank you. Your work has not only provided me and everyone I care about a home, as well as given me and my own life purpose when, otherwise, there was none. I've fallen in love with everything you've created without knowing it was you I had to thank. This is, um... This is my first time praying. I don't even know if I'm doing it right," He forced a laugh through his prayer. "I hope you can hear me. I want you to know that I'm forever indebted to you, Zintila. Thank you for everything I am." He whispered.

"I only want to be the way I am. And you provided me with the opportunity."

"Thank you."

Boxcode by Verena