Stargazing

[sanguophilia]

[[Autor, for once, looks strangely content. He's been feeding regularly, taking relatively good care of himself, and not spending half the day disconsolately awake, and as a result looks a little less grumpy and unapproachable. At the moment, he's sitting in the the field of grass beside his "house," alternately gazing up at the stars and making

Comments

[bloodiestnight]

[[And there's Fakir, reading over Autor's shoulder and not understanding a lick of what's being written down. His breath smells suspiciously of anise.]]

...You're a terrible artist, you know.

[sanguophilia]

[[Autor swats at him, irritated. Apparently that "not biting your head off" thing doesn't apply to everyone.]]

I'm charting the stars in this world. They're not at all the same as the ones back home.

[bloodiestnight]

[[Fakir merely rolls his eyes, and takes a seat next to Autor, squinting upwards.]]

Of course not, we're in some magical pocket alternate universe or summat. Do they spell anything out?

[sanguophilia]

Not that I can see. I'm trying to arrange them into constellations, if only so they make more sense when one looks at them.

[[He gestures toward a series of stars connected by dotted lines in his notebook.]] This group forms an almost perfectly round spiral...

[la_vie_en_crow]

[coming up and sitting next to him, seemingly unconcerned about whether or not she is bothering him]

Hey there.

[sanguophilia]

[[Autor blinks at her, unsure how to react to this scantily-clad version of the girl he loves from afar. She's attractive, to be certain, but... she clearly isn't his Rue.]]

Hello.

[la_vie_en_crow]

Enjoying the stars?

[sanguophilia]

I'm charting them. They're not at all the same as the ones I know.

...What is your name?