☪ Aquarius: Innovative, Faithful, Idealistic, Aloof, Unemotional
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Username: ♔Voltaire♔ | Name: Dipper| Gender: Bull
Prompt:
General stereotypes of the Aquarius range from the common "lacks emotional response" to "a impregnable, unshakeable loyalty". Dipper never perceived himself as a part of the general stereotype- finding himself more emotional than ever, especially in these moments. He gazes up at the stars, exhaling softly as his breath splays out before him like stardust, the crystalline world around him the perfect backdrop to the expanse of space above him. His eyes close, the wind chill causing him to scrunch up his face and tuck himself deeper into his coat, yet his eyes never stray away from the sight before him- Polaris, in all its glory. He smiles softly; it's glow reminding him of the one who loved it most.
Polaris, endearingly dubbed the north star; a symbol of hope, direction, and guidance. Some may say a life revolving around the stars is one for fools, for the dreamers; if they're right, Dipper would call himself the biggest. Polaris was not like any other star to him, in fact it was the most important one of all.
In times like this, Dipper remembers his mother; her love for astrology passing down like water from the vase of Aquarius herself, and pooling at his feet. They used to stargaze every night from the back of their porch, out of the frigid air, wrapped snugly in her embrace as the wind around them blew powdery snow into delicate banks. She'd sigh in those moments, eyes trained on the radiance of the moon, before slowly trailing away as if in search for something greater. In his youth, Dipper would try to follow her eyes, not quite catching up before she's gasp softly and stretch her forefinger to the dark sky.
"There it is, my son. The Big Dipper."
"That's my name, momma."
"That it is. See, there is the ladle, and the handle," she'd continue, tracing it's outline for him to follow, "And not too far off, if you keep heading in the direction the handle is pointing, you'll find it. Polaris, my son."
"Polaris?" he would ask, following her directions and following the ladle, up the handle, until one bright star filled his vision.
"Yes. My favorite star. This was the star I followed when I was very young, after my home was destroyed. My family had to go away, but Polaris was always there to guide us."
It never mattered to Dipper how many times she performed these same acts, these same lines; in fact, there was a sense of comfort in them, a sense of continuity and foundation. Even long after she passed, Dipper would repeat her words like a mantra, lifting his own hands to the sky to brush across the starry canvas until he reached the zenith where she lay.
She loved her star; but nothing calms him more than knowing she had always loved him more; even if he secretly loves the Big Dipper much more.
After all, it points straight to her.
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Loosely inspired from this poemcredit
