moth to flame

the moon has breath

Some nights-- the really cold ones, where there's nothing between the stars and the earth-- Pyroc is convinced he could see the moons breath. Could see her huffing out a beautiful lunar fog, sweeping across the cosmos in a rolling gust. Other nights she's just a big rock floating in space, which is also pretty cool.

He loves her. The moon that is. She might always be changing, but she's also always been present. That means the world to him, he thinks as he smiles into his mug, looking out over the wide view under his feet. He brought the mug with him from the cottage. It was his favourite one, big and green, the perfect shape. Orion didn't seem to mind, even though it was technically his.

A breeze brushes against the long tips of his ears and they twitch. He feels his fire flare up, warming him on the chilly September night. He huffs out his own breath, joining the moon in casting short lived gusts skittering across the air.

Pyroc had climbed out his window the instant he dropped his bags on the floor. The harvest moon was heavy and calling his name. He magicked up some hot water and some tea leaves (which never tasted as good as fresh but he wasn't unpacking tonight). Then he pulled out the snatched mug, and shimmied out the window and onto the fire escape. He was given a teachers quarters right by where he would be assisting, in the little lab that was attached to the main tower like a kid had been given some popsicle sticks and crammed it into the side of their lego creation.

It was a sore sight on the side of the tall building in the otherwise picturesque valley. It was positioned directly above a small lake, supposedly so they could detach the whole thing if a fire sprung up, and could let gravity, water, and some enchantments take care of it, post-evacuation.

Luckily, the moon and the ground below made up for what he had his back pressed up against. It was really something to be working in a place nestled into the side of a mountain this tall; surrounded by forest and large grass plains, cut through in a slow steady way by a wide thrumming river. The wide valley had huge biological range, and because it was so isolated the genetics of a lot of the animals here had evolved differently from the rest of the world. Somethings were a lot bigger, others smaller, some brighter colours and still more with strange adaptations to their beaks or eyesight in ways that hadn't been studied properly yet.

Pyroc grinned and looked out over the wide space.

No matter what kind of research he'd end up doing here, at least it would be in a beautiful place. He huffed and drank deep from his mug.

Seeing the lab even from a distance was enough to fill him with a tightly wound, vibrating energy in his chest. It was floating above the lake, the fog obscuring the support struts.The bridge leading into the lab jutted out of the side that lashed it to the main building was easy enough to ignore when faced with a sweeping arches and grand looking windows. It had a few stories built into it, three or four at most.

He had heard talk of a giant library, massive herb gardens, and a kiln room so large they had a map at the entrance... He'd be happy here. This school would be good for him.

The moon beamed down, and Pyroc felt like, just maybe, it was possible. And then he felt a ping . He sighed. Back to work it was, then.

***

It had been an incredibly light night, comparatively. He scrambled back into his room, lifting his mug into the air, expelling a small bit of his magic to have it hover there while he rummaged through his bags, holding the ping in his chest as long as he could, felt it wavering.

Letting out a triumphant squawk , he found his votive candles. He clumsily set them up in the right pattern before reaching up into his flames and pushing a bit to the tip of his finger. Slowly, careful not to make the same mistakes as he had before, he lit each of the candles in the proper order.