User blog:Kat2wind2archer/What if I can't pronounce your name

A fragment of a conversation from who knows where;

“Hey”

“Hi”

“What star are you? I mean there’s lots of stars, I wanna know which star you are”

''“I’m not a star, I’m a gathering of stars. A spirit of stars”''

“Is a ‘spirit of stars’ a group of stars or a literal spirit? …a spirit made out of stars?”

“…why would you want to know?”

“I have no idea- but I really want to know what star you are”

“…What ‘spirit of stars’ I am”

“Yeah, that”

''“Well, I’m a five. My name and purpose had been altered and decided by a five-star constellation”''

“Huh, that’s interesting. What constellation is that?”

“My name is Home”

“…so, you’re named after the constellation?”

“Basically, yes”

“Huh”

“…”

“Well, ‘Home’, do you by chance… know who I am?”

“…”

“…Eh, Home?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know who I am?”

“…”

“…Home?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have a last name?”

''“Had I been a six or a four, I would have. But, as it is, I am a five. A spirit of five stars. Such spirits of a five-star status don’t remember their origins. We outlive our generations. We outlive our last names. Attaching something to my star-name is just a waste of time, since it’ll fade away with the years. It’ll fade until I won’t be able to pull it out of the deepest depths of my mind”''

“…That sounds awfully lonely”

“It is”

“…Home?”

“Yes?”

“Who am I?”

“…”

“Home, am I dying?”

''“I think so. Your heart stopped beating about two minutes ago”''

“…Home, why am I not dead?”

''“That’s a stupid question. You’re not dead because you’re alive”''

“Yes, Home- yes, I know but- shouldn’t I have died? My hearts not beating, my pulse has completely stopped, my blood isn’t circling through my system and- how am I even speaking? How am I doing this?”

''“I don’t know. But it’s pointless to question it. Earthlings don’t question why leaves fall towards the ground. If leaves fell upwards, nobody would question it either because that would be normal”''

“Yes, but, Home- My heart isn’t beating. I’m… pretty damn sure that’s not normal”

''“Mind your tongue when you speak with me. I’ve lived through bloody wars and deaths caused by single, careless words being thrown around”''

“…I’m sorry”

“Good”

“…Home, who am I?”

“…”

“Home, why don’t you answer me?”

“What do you mean?”

“…Who am I, home?”

“…”

“Home, who do you think I am?”

“A stupid idiot not worth wasting time on”

“…why are you wasting time on me, then?”

''“I have enough time. I’ve had plenty of time. I have plenty of time. I will have plenty of time. I waste my time on anything that peaks my interest; bloodied claws, cracked souls, shattered hearts, wars that last millennia, deaths that spill the blood and tears of millions. You just happen to be a few of those in one”''

“…Oh”

“Indeed”

“…Home?”

“Yes?”

“Who am I”

“Was that a question or a statement?”

“I’m pretty sure you know the difference, Home”

“I do”

“Who am I, Home?”

“…”

“Home, why do you refuse to answer me?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“This! This silence you give me every time I ask you who I am! Why don’t you answer me?”

“…It hasn’t been decided yet”

“…What?”

''“Is hasn’t been decided who you are yet. Look at your body- try checking your skin for marks. For stars. You need to be given a ‘spirit of stars’ in order to be someone in this life”''

“…’in this life’?”

“Yes, ‘in this life’”

“Home, where do I come from?”

''“…to be completely honest? I haven’t the slightest idea. I’ve never been to your homeland”''

“…Do you know where it is?”

“No”

“…why isn’t my heart beating?”

“You’ve died”

“You literally just said I couldn’t be dead, because I’m alive! Make up your mind damn it!”

'''“Your body is dead. It’s just a lump of cold meat now. But for some reason, your consciousness is still there. Even though your brain shouldn’t be able to keep your consciousness trapped inside of it, you’re there. So; your body is dead, yet you, yourself, are alive.'''

“…Home?”

“Yes?”

“Will you kill me?”

“…I wasn’t planning on it”

“…I don’t want to live in a dead body, Home”

''“Wait until you get a spirit of stars. Wait until the stars give you a name. Wait until it happens, and you’ll beg them to never die. To never turn into nothingness. Because, once you taste a spirit of stars, you can’t let go. Once you feel a spirit of stars, the thorns surrounding you just dig deeper into your skin, deep enough to make your organs ache and spine prickle. They’ll burn you inside out, poke through your veins and ropes and all the other disposable insides you have. They’ll burn and sting until you can’t take it, but it’ll feel good. It’ll feel good, because you’ll compare it to the heartless, breathless feeling you feel now. Once a spirit of stars makes your heart beat once more, it’ll move at speeds beyond mortal comprehension. Your blood will boil and burn but you’ll treasure the feeling, treasure the abnormalities because they make you forget the numbness, the loneliness and sheer depression that will one day approach. They’re a great a distraction, my friend. You’ll love it”''

“…is that what your feeling right now?”

''“I am a five. Fives live until they die at the hand of another five. That could be minutes after a five’s birth. It could be thousands and millions of years later, in galaxies far, far away. Fives feel like fives. I’ve never been mortal; never been a being that isn’t a five. But I’ve been told stories of people who’ve touched spirits of stars. They burn and hunger and burn some more. They boil and scream and cry until their consciousness can’t take it anymore and they X themselves. They wipe themselves out of reality to escape the torturous cage their once-trusted body had made for them”''

“…you mean that’s going to happen to ME!?? I’m going to… X myself? …kill myself just to escape the pain? … a minute ago, you said I’d be begging the stars to live! You said I’d love the feeling!”

''“…Yes, I did say that. Because you aren’t alive anymore. At least, your body isn’t. If you would have encountered a spirit of stars when you were still inhaling ‘oxygen’, the air would have just burned your lungs to a crisp and your bones would’ve cracked under the pressure of your muscles and skin. If your body would have been alive, I wouldn’t have speared you a second glance. But… since you’re in such a state, you’ve intrigued me. If a spirit of stars does bless you, I’d like to see your story. If you aren’t a five, of course. Fives live too long, and it’s too troublesome to follow them for such an amount of time. If you were a four or six, however… your life could be kept short and entertaining. Fives are too lazy, watching them would be like waiting for six moons to perfectly align. The only thing that would make it worth following a five, would have to be their death. I’m not sure if you know, but a five fighting a five is quite an experience. It’s like seeing two galaxies entangle themselves together. Like two black holes devouring each other as well as themselves; like a star consuming other stars”''

“Home, I have no idea what any of that looks like”

''“That just means that you haven’t lived long enough. Give it a few more lifetimes and you’ll probably understand”''

“…okay”

“I’m glad you agree”

“Home?”

“Yes?”

“Who am I?”

“an absurdly shaped rectangle with rods”

“…what”

“A weird rectangle with two lines on the left and the right”

“What the hell, Home”

''“I can’t pronounce your name in any tongue. You’re a two-star. You can see your mark right there-“''

“…Oh yeah. When did that appear?”

''“A two-star’s name is unpronounceable. You can only draw it, and feel it”''

“…Feel it?”

''“Yes. Ask me again”''

“Ask you what again?”

“Ask me who you are”

“…Home?”

“Yes?”

“Who am I?”

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