Artificial Perfection

Blame it on the Stars.

( RQ ― Let's pretend the Steves in RQ believed in Gods for this not-oneshot. It's more of a drabble-snippet thing to me. It's only 330 or so words long, not including the A/N.

I just wanted to mess around with descriptions and Sol got thrown into whatever this is somehow, so here we are. I don't even like this but whatever, I guess. )

( 🌻 )

SOL WANTED SOMETHING ― or maybe someone ― to blame for his ongoing misfortune, so he chose the stars, celestial bodies of light that gave the dark void of the night an alluring glow or moving streak, specifically because of a tale in their Steves' mythology. Religion. Whatever you called it.

Apparently, it was believed that the God of knowledge, deception and honesty, Clematis, told his fellow deities that shooting stars were the souls of the damned trying to cut the night sky in half under the false belief that it was the sky that caused their misery. The Gods never found out if Clematis lied or not.

Sol wished that was true as a child. He still did for some unknown reason ― he didn't believe in those Gods. The vast emptiness that stretched across the limited ground below it indefinitely was always intimidating to him, as if it cloaked something far more sinister deep within its endless nothingness. Maybe it was. Nobody knew.

He wanted to believe that there was a reason it all went south, and if the mythology of his kind stated that the stars were the villains, then he'd villify the stars. Sol could make a hundred reasons for it. The stars misaligned. The stars tricked him. The stars aided his enemies. The stars laughed as he made his painful descent into obscurity and misery.

Damn the stars. They do nothing but observe as it all crumbled beneath his feet, and they're doing nothing but watch as he vengefully schemes.. well, more accurately, imagines his revenge.

Sol hadn't really done much to achieve his revenge ―his circumstances are unideal and difficult to work with at the moment― but he believes he'll get it, one way or another. He'll show them how it feels to feel the world they made with the stardust in their souls crumble beneath their feet only to reveal a void of misfortune underneath. They will suffer in the exact same way he did.

Someone's got to pay. The True King will pay, and so will his underlings ― that freak with the blindfold and his companion, the Yellow Steves that he worked with once upon a time long gone, even those who lived in the (quite impressive, though Sol loathed to admit it) kingdom.

They will pay.