Sagan had once read a wild theory of the orkhus originally having green skin instead of the dull gray that now enveloped their musculature. There was a time he might have once entertained that theory, bouncing it around his mind like a rubber ball to test its possibility. Now, however, he was more inclined to think that the original theorist had merely caught sight of an airsick orkhus.

For the third time in that minute alone, Sagan felt a violent stirring of his bowels. Clutching his stomach with one hand, his other one flew out to latch onto a wooden railing. The entire airship gave a shudder as it hit a nasty patch of turbulence, causing the sludge inside Sagan's innards to rise alarmingly. He forcefully gulped it back down, leaving a sickening aftertaste to linger around his mouth and throat.

Airships. Why'd it have to be airships?

If his father had been the petty type, Sagan could have sworn this was his punishment for the useless son who failed to meet his sky-high expectations. Sky-high, he thought, his lips quivering into a small smirk of irony despite himself. Yes, it was all a satirical comedy alright- his father putting him in the place that was out of his reach using a big metal contraption attached to a giant balloon.

Of course, all of that were just ramblings from the highly sardonic mind of Nicolaus Sagan. His father was neither petty nor ironically humorous. Only cold, rational efficiency ran through the insides of that big skull of his. Father had made him take the airship because it was the fastest and most efficient method of travel. There was no other reason to it, no personal feelings of bitter disappointment underlying his decision. It was pure, unsentimental logic.

Sagan would be hoping too much if he'd thought the unpleasant mode of transport had been influenced by emotions from his father, even if they were negative.

Another violent jolt rocked the airship, and Sagan found himself draped listlessly against the railings like a depressing sack of potatoes. He felt like one, too, as a storm broke out within his innards, threatening to spill from his mouth into the dark, endless skies below. A part of his airsick mind wondered what would actually happen if he happened to hurl his tasteless dinner outside the open window. Would the frigid temperature be cold enough to freeze his vomit into solid? At this altitude, how much impact would be created from the force of his undigested food slamming into some poor bystander on the ground?

"You look green, Nick," a deep voice behind him suddenly piped up, dissuading Sagan from attempting to test his theory.

Clapping a large hand in front of his mouth, he struggled for a moment to swallow back his nausea. The orkhus turned around to find another of his kind standing there, a scarf wrapped around his tree trunk of a neck. His left tusk was raised slightly above the other in an amused smirk. Sagan could barely make out a small spark of sympathy within his molten eyes... though he could very much be imagining it. The nausea was starting to impair his cognitive functions, or so he thought.

"I... ugh... I don't feel so good," Sagan managed to groan, suppressing the urge to create a huge icky mess in the middle of the shaking corridor. He doubled over and slid to the floor, clutching his stomach.

"You, uh, look like you're absolutely falling apart," the other orkhus said, the concern becoming notable in his tone. He walked towards Sagan and extended a gray hand of his own. "C'mon, Nick, let's get you to the restroom. The mess would be easier to clean over there."

"How... many times I have to tell you, Kevin?" Sagan mumbled through gritted teeth. "Make... make an effort to, ugh, at least make it to the end of my name."

"Well, 'Nicolaus' is kinda a mouthful," Kevin pointed out. He linked his hand into Sagan's and hoisted him up to his feet. Sagan stumbled slightly at the sudden elevation of his head, feeling a sharp pain crash into it like a hammer being driven into the skull. His left hand flew up to his scalp as he jammed his eyes shut. Little spots of light dotted the back of his eyelids.

"Nick?" Kevin asked again, this time giving a tug on his arm. Sagan quickly jerked his hand away from the other orkhus. His eyelids fluttered open, letting the colors flood into his vision. Kevin's figure swam in and out of focus, blurring at the edges like a phantasmic illusion.

"It's alright. I don't feel much inclined to expel my dinner, thank you very much."

"Don't be embarrassed," the orkhus with the tousled chocolate hair said, kindly. "Sometimes, unpleasant stuff are better to let go of. Besides, we can't have you being sick in front of the yildean king, can we? That's not gonna reflect well for our kind."

The very idea of it made Sagan cringe a little. A vivid image of that event transpiring flashed through his mind, somehow dispelling his airsickness with the sheer embarrassment of it. If he decided to throw up in the halls of the yildean court, Father would most definitely kill him. Or disown him.

Most likely both.

"Yeah, no, that's... That's a cursed idea," Sagan said, shaking his head as if would make the horrifying imagination fly out of his brain and out the open window next to him.

Kevin nodded, gravely. "Exactly."

The sight of his face, so earnest and solemn, caused a smile to tug at Sagan's thick lips despite everything. One of the worst prospects about this trip, the one that had made his legs turn to jelly the moment he stepped onto the deck of the airship for the first time, was the idea of having to socialize with the people on the craft. He had to admit- openly- that he was not the most sociable man around. In fact, he had very few acquaintances despite being the son of the two most important orkhus of the nation, having holed himself up in his private observatory most of the time. The very prospect of having to interact with a group of strangers whom he knew nothing of caused metaphorical butterflies to spawn within his guts.

His fears were unfounded. The people of the airship were an amiable, jolly bunch, albeit quite colloquial. There wasn't any of the social barrier that he had feared. Among them, Sagan found somewhat of a kindred spirit in Kevin, even if they seemed different as night and day at first glance. However, Sagan knew that Kevin shared the same thirst of knowledge as he did.

"The stars are lovely tonight," Kevin remarked, looking out the window. A cold draft wafted through the window, blowing his tousled hair and his scarf back. Sagan clutched his long sleeves, shivering slightly in the cold. In spite of that, he had to give a nod.

"Indeed. They are beautiful."

The stars that dotted the vast expanse were like diamonds sewn into a black veil. They twinkled radiantly in the distance. Somewhere in his wild imagination, he felt as if they might be signaling to them in a language mortals did not understand. Perhaps the stars carried a message from the primordial star goddess Yildeza herself- a message yet to be decoded by mortals.

Kevin pointed at a particularly bright star that sparkled in the distance. "See that, Nick? That's the Radiant Lady," he said.

Sagan knew what the Radiant Lady was. It was named such by the yildeans, who believed that the star was the avatar of Yildeza herself, always keeping an eye on their little bastion floating aimlessly among the deadly pea-soup of the Mist. They believed that she was there to guide them, and indeed, the Radiant Lady served as something of a navigational device for travelers.

So, perhaps there is some truth to that, the copper-haired orkhus thought.

Kevin ran his fingers through his hair, between the space where both of his horns stood. "Do you believe in wishes upon the stars, Nick?" he suddenly asked.

Sagan shrugged. "I think that is a method of prayer employed by the yildeans to the star goddess Yildeza. Supposedly, the stars are her eyes and ears. Honestly, I don't really know if there's any truth to it... seeing as we don't have a patron god of our own. Some rodents seem to pick up on this belief as well."

"Well, let's just assume for a moment that it's true. What would you wish for?"

To get this whole damn business over with, maybe not make a fool of myself. And knowing that the second end of the world isn't coming would be nice, Sagan silently answered, though he did not voice those thoughts. He arched his brow.

"I suppose you would be wishing Marie returns your feelings?" Sagan teased, a small uncharacteristic mischief suddenly slipping into his head. Kevin's face went red.

"W-what on Jordarys made you get that idea?" he demanded. Sagan shrugged nonchalantly.

"Maybe the fact that your pupils dilate whenever she's around, and you turn into a nervous, boneless wreck?" he suggested, still with that uncharacteristic mischief. Sagan wasn't the type for jests (though he was the type to be as salty as the sea god Stygenum's domain was rumored to be), but something about the way Kevin acted around said woman just tickled him. There was something... satisfying about poking fun at him regarding Marie.

"I do not!" Kevin protested, flustered.

At that very moment, light footsteps pattered across the floor from around the corner. Speak of the devil, Sagan thought as he turned to see who was approaching. A woman was making her way towards them at a brisk pace, her mane of braided black ropes swishing in tandem with her steps. The mass of dreadlocks were kept away from her salmon eyes by a bright blue piece of cloth tied around her broad forehead.

Marie stopped when she saw the two men standing by the window, her hands on her hips. A smile crept onto her face. "Hello, boys," she greeted with an air of nonchalance. "What are you talking about?"

How Kevin here has a painfully pellucid attraction towards you, Sagan was tempted to say, but chose to resist it out of consideration for his comrade. Societal norms were often something that flew right past his head, through that empty space between his stunted horns, but even he thought that revealing this would be a little too cruel.

"Um, the stars," Kevin answered, shifting his weight to his other foot restlessly. His orange gaze was hurriedly diverted away from Marie. Sagan resisted the urge to chuckle at his nervous disposition. He'd always found himself to be extremely awkward in social situations, so to see another act the same way was a bit of a relief for him.

Marie smiled and walked past the two. She craned her head outside the window, letting the howling winds whip her hair back. The woman suddenly let out an audible gasp and pointed outside the window.

"Look!" she cried out. "It's a falling star!"

Kevin and Sagan exchanged startled glances, before moving towards the window to take a peek themselves. Marie was right. A trail of incandescent light dashed through the night sky, blazing a burning trail behind it. Squinting, Sagan could make out a peculiar purple tint surrounding it. Strangely enough, the conflagrant ball of flames seemed to grow bigger and bigger by the second... almost as if it was approaching the ship.

At a very rapid rate.

Marie's eyes widened in horror, the smile quickly fading from her face. "Get down!" she suddenly cried out, forcefully pushing the two heavily-muscled orkhus men into the ground. Sagan opened his mouth to protest, but the chance never came.

At that very moment, the world around him exploded into splinters of wood, metal, and fiery heat. Sagan found himself violently expelled backwards, his back hitting a hard surface with so much force that dark spots blotched his vision. Everything was spinning, spiraling out of control like a tree caught in a tornado. The air around him turned unbearably hot, making the orkhus feel as if he was combusting alive.

He was propelled through the smog in a storm of debris. The world was tilted at a very steep angle; slanted in a way that put his head in a very uncomfortable position to view his surroundings. Nothing made anymore sense in this jumbled, twisted world- so much so that Sagan was forced to clench his eyes shut. The darkness proved to be a small escape from the blaring chaos that raged around him, though the world seemed to continuously explode in a discordant cacophony of splintering wood and grinding metal. The orkhus's fingers flailed around in the empty air, trying to latch onto any form of support as he fell. For a fleeting moment, he thought he found the warmth of skin press against his fingertips- perhaps Marie or Kevin- but it just as quickly disconnected from him.

Afterwards, came the crash.

The impact against the solid ground, only broken by what seemed like canopies of the trees judging by the feeling of leaves and branches scraping against Sagan's limbs, was massive. For a split second, his body seemed to implode with pain as a loud, sickening crack rattled Sagan's eardrums. Air broke out of his throat, expelling itself out of his agape mouth before everything went dull.

The ensuing darkness was a reprieve- Sagan saw nothing, heard nothing, and felt nothing. It was a silent place of peaceful serenity... for the first time, he was free. Even if this was death, Sagan didn't mind. He could stay there for an eternity, liberated from all his cares and his worries.

Alas, eternity ended too soon.

"Wake up."

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Chapter Writer: VeryBigMess

AN: Wake the **** up, samurai. We have a city to burn.