[roelian]

For this competition, tell me about a time this kalon doubted themselves. Feel free to use as many words or art pieces as you need to.

Coding is fine but doesn't help or hinder your form.
I judge on creativity.

Ends May 1st

[roelian]

.

[kolyakun]

mork

[22tabby]

Mark

[petrify]

ahhhh a baby!! ;o; mark

[bakuraas.]

x

[waterglow]

mark

[idyll]

reserve!! I hope I have time for this kitto <33

[sillies]

res!! (also kat I hope you're okay, if you need to talk to someone my pms/dms will always be open)

[SilhouetteStation]

Username: SilhouetteStation
Name: Oberon
Gender: Male

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My breath seemed to echo in the space in front of me, darkness penetrated only by the lantern I held. The light cast shadows up the walls and stone steps I climbed. My footsteps were quiet, but the figure behind me did not have that option, as their wooden crutch scraped against the ground with each step. At the top of the spiral stairs, I put the lantern down to open the wooden hatch that allowed us access on to the rooftop.

This had been the tradition for years now.

Oberon and the Astronomer, making their way up to the top of the astronomy tower.

Picking up the lantern again, I stepped out into the rooftop as the Astronomer followed, breathing slightly ragged at the extra effort it took for them to get up. More than once I had wondered when they wouldn't be able to make this trek anymore. That their good leg would fail from the stress of taking most of their body weight. That the crutch would slip from underneath them, and they'd tumble down the hard steps. That I'd be left without my Star Guide, and the responsibility of the tower and all its research would be left in my young hands.

That wasn't supposed to happen for a long time.

I still had a lot to learn. The Astronomer had a lot to teach.

But I feared the end result for both of us would end in disappointment.

I watched the Astronomer's keen eyes gaze up at the stars, charting their own course across the night sky, picking out glowing specks I couldn't even detect.

The night was crisp, and a cool breeze ruffled my fur. I shivered slightly, although I wasn't entirely sure it was just from the cold.

"You see that one?" The Astronomer asked, pointing up into the sky. I followed his index finger, trying to pick out the constellation. "What's that one?"

"Um-" I squinted slightly. "North Delta."

"Good. And that one?"

"Cat's Eye." That was my favorite one, because one of the stars had an almost greenish glow.

"See? Not that hard, is it boy?"

"No, sir."

There was the slightest moment of hesitation. "So why can't you see them on paper?"

Despite the cooler temperature, I felt my cheeks flush. "I-" I paused. "I don't know, sir."

I couldn't help it. Out here, I could see them. Maybe it took me a little longer, but I found them. Locate their placement in the sky, figure out where I was from the ground. But on paper, the sky turned to sea. Names distorted, letters and numbers floated around the page. Written words wouldn't stay still for me.

What kind of Astronomer couldn't read a star chart?

I felt a warm hand squeeze my shoulder. "Don't worry," the Astronomer said, voice softer. "You'll figure it out. They chose you. It had to be for a reason."

"You ever think maybe they got it wrong?" I couldn't help but whisper.

"No," they replied firmly. "The stars are never wrong."

Astronomer's are always chosen at birth. Their eyes twinkle. They are always born under a full moon, and the moonlight soothes their crying. We are night owls, we find connections between things. Charting courses is second nature to us.

They say we have stardust running through our veins. That we are connected to both the earth and the sky.

I feel the connection, just as others do, but I still can't help but think maybe it had been a mistaken. That me being chosen as an Astronomer was a mistake. I'd voiced my concerns to them before, but they'd reassured me that everything would work itself out. I was young, I was learning, my intuition would grow, I would find my place here, and things would be okay.

But what if things weren't okay? What if I never learned everything that I needed to? How could I figure out how to read words and numbers? How could I make myself write things in the right order?

How could I be the Astronomer for a whole city if I could hardly write my own name?

Tears pricked my eyes, and I hurried to blink them away before they noticed. They did though, because of course, we notice these things. We noticed details.

"Come," they said softly. "Let's go back inside."

Together we made our way back down. I went ahead, to catch them in case they tripped. My stomach always felt clenched until we made it back down to solid, flat ground. I couldn't help but let out a silent sigh of relief.

The room attached to the tower itself wasn't cluttered, but it was our kind of messy. Papers were scattered across the wooden desks, as well as compasses (both the drawing and direction tool), various pencils, and a few empty cups. One of the walls was almost entirely window, with a large telescope sitting inside and positioned to look out.

The Astronomer hobbled over to the telescope, while I placed the lantern on one of the tables. The warm golden light spread across the table, highlighting the papers that sat by. I tried again to read them.

I could see the stars as dots, the constellations darker to show their position. Miles and miles of sky, all recorded in our little tower. It excited me to think there was still more to find, more things to discover. But then I got that familiar knot of nerves deep in my stomach, because it wasn't just about exploring the night. It was about reading signs. I needed to be able to read the signs that the stars gave us.

How could I read stars if I couldn't read them on paper?

The more I stared at the page, the more the dots begin to move, the more their names swam together and muddled themselves up. I let out a frustrated sigh, blinking away more baby tears.

"Oberon. Over here."

I joined them by the telescope, although they'd moved a few steps away to be closer to the window. I stood next to them, and their hand returned to my shoulder as we stared out into the night, up to the sky.

It was ironic, really. Feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders, but feeling a sense of calm at seeing the stars stretching out forever.

"You feel that?" He whispered.

"Yeah," I whispered back.

Another soft squeeze.

"They chose you," he repeated. "You know they did."

In that small moment of calm, when I felt that connection and the stardust running through my veins, I believed him.

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