azir

The one called Aziraphale could have sat there for years counting all the stars in the dazzing Faerie sky. Every night brought new constellations, and the only thing that kept them stable was drawing those lines over and over, tracing shapes on that massive black canvas. It was the only stability he had left in a place devoid of consistency or logic.

It never helped that he could rarely go through this ritual without interruption. He knew his Keeper drew near when a patch of stars would turn around, revealing that clear, horrible face, etched the bright blue of a blinding-hot star. It would shake and spin the sky, and Aziraphale would watch his patterns dissapear. The Other was fascinated by the way he would shake and cry, moving closer to observe, leaving him no room for respite from the searing light of its face.

Indeed, his Keeper never seemed to expect him to do anything, but was content to follow him, watch him at all times. His self-regulation only made his Keeper more curious, so he constantly had to decide between stability and privacy. There were others, and it would flit between them, closely observing them and being thrilled when their glows grow ever brighter from the influence of the place. Azir often wondered if it was prodding them to increase their pressure, harder and harder until they collapsed and burst like supernovas. The own weight in his chest made it seem like such a terrifying plausibility, but no matter how many times the crushing input became too much, no matter how many times he gave in and melted down, he never seemed to crack.

It might have been a mercy if he did, he sometimes thought.

It wasn't long before something inside him snapped. It became clear that he couldn't handle much more of this. If he didn't make some attempt to leave, he may very well die. As much as sometimes he tried to convince himself that was something he could accept, he couldn't. It was so easy. So easy, and yet the mere action seemed to blank out his mind as it twisted itself into knots, trying to make sense of this change from the expected.

He simply waited for his Keeper to move on to someone else, and he walked away.

Soon he found himself standing on the edge of a skybridge, staring downwards into the endless abyss. It never seemed to end, stars and nebulae all the way down. His eyes drifted backwards, towards his Keeper's domain, and then back down. An idea flashed through his head. What was to stop him from jumping?

He didn't give himself any time to second-guess himself, and he stepped off the bridge, down into the void. Despite the space around him, he plummeted, into the inky blackness, the pinpoints of light streaking past until he felt himself hit what felt like air. Into some phantom atmosphere he fell. He felt his skin burn, set ablaze like a meteor, and the stars gave way to blue, to sunlight, to what looked like green grass underneath.

His fall slowed, his skin cooled from a painful red to a solid white, and he landed on his feet neatly between a row of what looked like hedges. His eyes traced the vines, seeing the dangerous-looking thorns that jutted out from them. It sent a shudder through him, but he could also see a clear path between them, leading to an opening.

Through the opening... Solid ground. It sparked a memory of a life only half-remembered, but one that was better than what he'd escaped.
He'd find his way, eventually. But the stability would need to come first. It didn't matter where he came out, really. What mattered was that it was safety. Home.