Chapter Text
“The Constellation of Blue Stars.”
Eyes as piercingly blue as the stars described. Two neatly shined and pointed shoes, settled on the roof of an airbus. Wind whipping around a cape, carrying that voice- though there was only one to hear the mad tirade. Eyes glittering with a cold malice, held towards the very one spoken of. To the side, the informant twitches, not really from stress but more out of bothered. Muttering, "I hate when you get this way," but it's hardly heard. The readers must know the backstory, after all.
“Yes. There once was a Constellation known as The Punisher, who was despised by their own kind. Others of their kind were born into endless nights of newly made protostars, but they alone came to be under dying stars, a sign of an ill omen.”
The wind seems to howl, torn throat, crimson-mouthed... It's cold in the skies above Paris, Paris of humans, Paris of normal, Paris of empty blue-grey sky, no Worlds rewritten yet, no bloodred of bloodthirsty vampires constellations.
The informant sucks his teeth in annoyance. It's getting harder to breathe up here as the airbus climbs the altitudes.
“The other constellations feared The Punisher, and they drove them back to the planets, away from the safety of the skies. There, The Punisher faced terrors unknown to them, braving harshness and cruelty once more from an unknown species. So it was that they made a vow. They would take vengeance on those born under the new stars.”
It was as if a new voice had joined the whine of the breeze, some ancient battle cry from the past. And they can both really hear it, faintly, as the words are mouthed by the first speaker. Copied perfectly, like that ear had been there to hear them.
'Oh foolish constellations who have persecuted me! Opening this grimoire shall visit upon you a curse worse than death! '
A pause. The air comes rushing through the gaps in the one-sided conversation. Back to the first speaker now, with a strange lilt to the soft but steady voice, as if merged with the scream of The Punisher.
“... Yes. Their special invention was a grimoire that allowed him to corrupt the true name of a constellation. ‘Those who take my grimoire in hand shall too have the blue light instilled in their eyes, and before long, become a bringer of death upon all constellations.’ Punisher had decreed.”
The informant finally peers out from under his dark fedora. There's a fang brushing the corner of his lip. He stares out at the other. "And all that is why we're here?"
He receives no direct response other than the shf of clothing swishing aside as the other bends down. Sets sharp, gloved claws to the domed glass of the airbus. They're traveling at rapid speeds, be touching down in Paris in no time, so they both figured.
Joonghyuk laughs. "Something like that."