one fold, two folds, three folds, four

origami feelings knocking through the door

paper tulips, roses thorns and vines

insomnia pursues me deep into my mind

every nerve screaming for sleep but i don't wanna dream

last time i drifted off i died for many years it seemed

but nobody would miss me as i'm too far to redeem, so

maybe if it lets me then i'll finally let go

and yet here i am up at ungodly hours

hands getting sore from folding paper crafts

and yet sleep eludes me, although i desire

nothing more than to just close my eyes and dream

and yet here i am overcome by this feeling

that no distraction could hope to steal from me

refusing to elude me, that i desire

nothing more than to be held close by you as i dream

push aside my curses and my worries for a night or two

make me forget the aching scar around my throat

push aside your worries and your troubles for tonight or two

purple origami roses leading down a path to you

though i'm scared, i desire nothing more

than to be held close by you

though i'm scared, i need you there

so i'll dream a dream of you

what a fool i am for thinking i could drag this distance, carrying the weight of thousands on my back, mourning over names and faces i've no hope to save or see again--what a fool i am for thinking that with anchors tied around my throat of exhaustion and my draining hope that i could swim to surface even latched to arms of those i love trying to pull me up--what a fool i am for thinking i'll ever make it alive through sticks and stones which break my bones for no purpose but to slave me--what a fool i am for thinking i'm enough, will ever be enough, was ever enough at all--yet here i am still at the ocean's floor with salt stinging my growing wounds and gore as water ruptures through my failing lungs--i've survived a thousand wars but as of now i fail to fight a battle left unsung and though i could call for reinforcement i don't wish to burden another's back with my pain--i don't wish to grasp for an angel and drown them with me and i don't wish to worry those who love me yet time and time again i sink further to the sand--the sand which now wraps 'round my throat as i grow too exhausted to stand nor speak nor try at all--the surface and the shore are thousands of miles away and my body is too battered and broken to even hope to reach them anymore

i saw roadkill on the street today

while on my bus-ride home

black and gray fur cascading into pink

gutspilled all 'cross the pavement

unlucky raccoon dead on the road

i wonder if it knew it was gonna die

or if it thought that it could make it

and i wonder what hit it

a truck or a car or a semi,

and i wondered how many broken bones

i wonder if it knew it was dying

and i wonder how long it took

if it was a quick death with no suffering

or if it was slow and hellish and steady

i saw roadkill on the street today

and it made me really sad

so i wrote this poem

and now i'm sad again

o, a fiend in king’s armor,

o, a scoundrel in golden plating,

o, a wounded gazelle’s gambit,

your cries fall upon deaf ears,

i have no sympathy for your tears,

for each glance you give me ills me--

my head and heart pangs, and yet,

i feel no opposition to my departure,

i feel no sympathy for you, monster,

a wolf in star-crossed clothing,

i’ve fallen sick and loathing,

cast your crown from the ground

look me in the eyes, o king,

look me in the eyes and see--

see the scar you’ve left, feel sorry,

but do not say you are, for,

your voice alone is enough to make me vomit--

your touch alone, the memory alone, the distant call of your arms makes me sick now--

while i’d kill to run into a pair of comforting arms, into somewhere i can call home and somewhere i can call safe, there’s not a place i can call that now--

there’s not a soul i can turn to, not a hope i can grasp, not a heart that can beat--so where i stand, piloting my life and piloting away from here, piloting away from you as tears pour down my face like an untamed river, animalistic noises choking from my throat, outing myself as a creature, outing as a pathetic wretch--

though by a longshot, never as pathetic as you--i will never be as pathetic as you were when your fist struck my face and staggered me, and i will never be as pathetic as you were when you were begging me to listen and begging me to stay as i throw my belongings together, i will never be as pathetic as you were when you tried to climb aboard my ship and tried to rush to me before i could go, and i will never be as pathetic as the look on your face when i pushed you; and, of course, perhaps i should feel guilty, but am i truly a villain when i say i don’t feel a damn thing for you? am i truly a villain when i say you deserve to fall and deserve to break? am i a villain when you swung first? o, fiend in king’s armor, o scoundrel in golden plating, look at me now--look at me, and i’ll dare you to call me faulted, i’ll dare you to call me a villain, i’ll dare you to call me wrong--run along and run off to your treasures, to your treasure, that knight you keep gawking at--that knight you kept staring at as i had my arms around you, right at the table--don’t think i didn’t see that longing in your eyes, that fire you could never hope to stifle--and dare i say i hope you don’t hit that one?--i hope you’re happy, with your broken limbs and broken ribs, as you hit the ground, as you watch me fly away, for this broken bird refuses to ever cast his gaze to you again.

oh, like an ocean, you are, intricate and composed, standing tall with no worry in your world but where to anchor down, with not a worry in your world what you do to me--your flawlessness near fills me with disgust, sends strange searing signals through my head that travel to my hands and body and which lights my face up like fire, and hooks my eyes upon your form with no chance of being set free, ‘til the moment you look my way--only then do my eyes dare dart away, only then do my lungs catch a breath--and yet your gaze digs into me relentlessly, awakening a voice in my mind that despite my efforts, cannot be muffled, yearning for your arms, and your voice, and for you--and an invitation to your ‘home’ is far from something expected, an offer to guide me through was far from expected--nonetheless the fire in me burned brighter and my body found itself shrinking into itself, nonetheless the word that left me was a faint “please,” not doing well of hiding my feelings of the time, not doing well of hiding my inevitable excitement--yet you still took my hand and guided me, and that felt more than what my mind could handle, yet i followed--yet further on, those looks you give me--unable to look you in the eye, yet i can feel the gaze nonetheless; something heated, something knowing, driving me to frenzy--and you moved close to me and whispered an invitation, and my whole being burned as the only response mustered was a small whimper--oh, what you to do me, is it not clear to you?--is it not clear how at each touch, my mind numbs, how my back arches with each brush of a hand--each touch like electricity jetting through me, jolting me, eliciting mewls and gasps which are a struggle to stifle--“fool’s gold,” you mutter lowly, yet so sweetly--speaking such silent love as you take my breath away.

wrapped in the arms of a man made of light, i think everything will be alright

though i'm followed by eyes and unearthly cries i know i'll be safe tonight

a pleasant warmth surrounds me as i'm pulled into his hold

a gleaming gentle heart of gold to shield me from the cold

i've felt lost for days to come yet with him i feel found

his gentle breaths are deafening yet hardly make a sound

a heartbeat pumping stardust tells me i'm in way too deep

so i drift off in the arms of stars into a pleasant sleep

And as promised, others came.

Shallare was wandering the Emporium as they waited for others to arrive, and if they hadn’t been astonished by the building before, they certainly were now. It felt lonely, almost, being in the structure without the other ‘Point’ to accompany them.

“What is a ‘Point’, anyway?” they thought, pausing their pacing and trading it for standing in place and staring into space. Shallare thought of it as an odd question to ask. If they were a Point, why didn’t they know anything about Points? Why didn’t they know anything about the very thing they were? They realized they were beginning to repeat themselves, albeit mentally. They began sifting through their own mind, twisting and tumbling, and--

“Yo!”

Shallare was pulled out of their own head by a stranger snapping their fingers in their face. They blinked, stumbling backward.

“Hey, there we go!” The new Point chuckled, stepping forward to meet Shallare where they now stood. Shallare scanned them over. While Cyalm had been colored in white and cyan, the fellow before them held a gradient of gray-to-red. Shallare opened a mouth they didn’t have to speak, and wound up unable to summon any words to their brain.

“Who are you?” they asked, taking another step towards them.

“Uh,” they began, “Shallare.”

“Oh, shit--” Shallare cringed at the other’s language-- “we both got S-names,” the stranger grinned, playfully punching Shallare in the shoulder.

“Well, so, here’s the deal, little dude.”

“Little dude?”

“Let me speak,” the stranger said, huffing slightly. Shallare couldn’t help but back away again. “The name’s Signol! Quite possibly the only person here who, y’know, has their stuff together.” Something in Signol’s tone sounded strange, but Shallare didn’t comment.

“Are...are there others now?”

“Yeah, duh,” responded Signol, crossing their arms. “I’ve seen some others wandering around. You, meanwhile, have just been kinda standing here.”

“Oh,” mumbled Shallare.

“Eh, don’t think too much of it.” Again, they were hit in the shoulder. “Go make some friends, weird statue dude.”

“Right,” they replied. And with that, Signol wandered off.

Wandering aside into a different room, Signol found themselves listening in on other voices around them--some mingling, some just talking to themselves. A Scotsman there, a brit there, some sort of voice shouting after them--

“HEADS UP, RED DUDE!”

As they were too lost in thought to register a warning, Signol got knocked in the back of the head by a lantern.

On closer inspection, the floor of the Sky Emporium looked pretty nice.

They heard rushing footsteps, and heard them come to a stop right next to them. The unfamiliar voice, the same one that had tried to warn them, could be heard as well.

“Oh, damn it--are you alright, man?”

“Hggguhuhghuhhu,” they replied.

Signol was unable to stifle a small squeak when they were pulled up to their feet. Noted--whoever this was, they were pretty strong.

“Here, I’ve got ya...” Signol turned his gaze to the stranger. Green-to-red gradient. Green up-facing arrow symbol. Sorta friendly vibes. Cute as hell, they thought, before immediately stifling said thought.

What they were unable to stifle, however, was how flushed their face was.

“Oh, dude, you don’t look too good...I’m so sorry,” continued the stranger, panic still audible in their voice.

“Oh, no, man, I’m fine, I’m fine--” they went to move back, and wound up nearly falling again-- “I’m okay.”

The stranger huffed, sudden frustration filling their face.

“Hey, weirdo!! I told you to quit throwing these things before someone got--”

They both turned their gaze to an empty corner.

″--...hurt. Ugh. They ran off. ’nd looks like they took the lantern with ’em, too...” They sighed, defeated. Signol coughed.

“Uuhh...well, moving on...You got a name, big dude?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah!” The fellow took Signol’s hand to shake it, and Signol could’ve sworn they forgot how to breathe.

“Name’s Arrolin, dude! Cool to meet you!”

“Cool to meet you,” Signol echoed stupidly. As it turned out, despite what they thought, Signol certainly didn’t have their shit together.

Elsewhere, a different fellow entirely stood outside, having distanced themselves from the crowd indoors. Strange of Cyalm, they thought, to not have put any railing near the edges. They found themselves unable to pry their eyes away from what one could nearly call a cliff--the floor giving way, cascading down into seemingly endless sky and clouds--of which falling off of could mean certain death--

bonk

This strange Point, Ulipse, was very suddenly cracked out of their line of thought by the very same lantern that had hit Signol earlier. They stumbled, nearly fumbling back into a wall, a short string of profanity being shouted in response to the sudden assault. A blur of black-and-white darted by to retrieve their weapon, only to feel a sudden firm grip around their arm.

“HEY, ASSHOLE! Where do you think you’re going?!”

The new Point blinked. White-to-black gradient, a black up-facing crescent for a symbol. Total weirdo, more than likely.

“Can you talk, or what?!” Ulipse barked, tightening their grip on the fellow. They simply stared.

What prompted Ulipse to let go was their eye opening. The new Point’s symbol was barely a symbol at all, but an honest-to-god eye. Ulipse flinched back, a startled yelp escaping them. The Point’s eye shut, and just as fast as they were there, they were gone.

And off they darted up a short series of ramps, barely missing a crash into another Point, and--

Crashing directly into a door. They fumbled backward, a frustrated hiss escaping them, before finally taking a moment to take in their surroundings.

The Point they had nearly crashed into was staring at them blankly. Dark blue to light blue gradient. Their symbol looked sorta like a minus sign. The two shared a long, blank stare at eachother, seemingly waiting for one another to make any sort of movement.

“Hello,” said the stranger. Their voice sounded metallic and artificial. A robot, thought the black-and-white Point. They gave the robot no verbal response, turning back to face the door. It easily towered over the two, nearly reaching the ceiling. It looked like it’d open more like a pair of gates. They shoved at it, to no avail. A frustrated snarl was the first noise to ever leave the fellow. The robot stared.

“I have already attempted many times to open that door,” they began. “Each attempt has had a success rate of 0%.”

And as fast as they were there, the black-and-white point was gone. The robot stared, storing what they’d seen for later. There was no blur of them scurrying off, this time--they’d simply disappeared. With that, the robot cast their gaze back towards a wall, continuing their task of restoring what seemed to be missing files in their systems.

And as the pattern goes, their focus was broken.

“Right, so what t’hell is’at, then?” New voice registered. Scottish accent.

“That’s another Point, Ploque.” Name registered as Ploque. New voice registered. Calm, soothing voice. No accent that was audible.

“Right,” continued Ploque, lumbering over to the robot. They looked up, quite literally scanning the fellow over. Gold-to-yellow gradient, yellow four-pointed star for a symbol. Noted. The Point with them followed suit, going to stand next to them. Dark gray-to-white gradient, 8-pointed star for a symbol. Appearance registered. Many stars around here, so it seemed. Noted.

“Ol’ cloud-boy told us t’go an’ gather everyone at th’ entrance. Y’comin’?”

“Affirmative,” the robot replied, giving a curt nod.

“Excellent. We’ll see you there, then,” began the 8-pointed star, only to be interrupted.

“Please identify yourself,” requested the robot. The Point blinked.

“Pardon?”

“Please identify yourself,” they repeated.

“Oh,” they said. “My name is Compale. Do...do you happen to have a name?”

“Mino,” replied the robot. Mino accompanied their introduction with a short bow.

“We shoul’ get movin’,” muttered Ploque, who was beginning to pace impatiently.

“Right, of course,” nodded Compale.

“I’ll meet you all,” remarked the black-and-white Point.

Everyone in the room save for Mino and the Point themselves flinched back at their sudden arrival and just-as-sudden exit.

The Point hummed pleasantly to themselves, nearly waltzing out of the room and down the ramps again, though their feet never touched the ground. They vastly preferred floating over walking. They muttered to themselves, replying to each voice that spoke to them through the walkie-talkie of their brain, able to identify each voice by the sound, able to speak to those so far away, able to--

They crashed directly into Ulipse.

“W--HEY, WATCH IT, YOU--” they whipped around, and snarled at realizing who this was-- ”...You.”

“Me?” The Point echoed, their eye opening again. Ulipse flinched, but did not falter.

“You can talk,” they growled, seizing the Point by the arm again in case they got any plans to run off.

"Oh, can't we all?" The point grinned.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, punk?!"

"Well, to begin, I think my name is Ixol, and I think you're about to let go of my arm before I set you on fire."

"What?"

With that, Ulipse's hand got set on fire. They yelped and thrashed backwards, frantically trying to put themselves out. Ixol giggled uncontrollably as they darted off towards the entrance.

Elsewhere once more, a Point was watching the clouds go by.

At least, they were, until Ixol came plowing into them on accident.

"Hello," exclaimed Ixol.

"HELLO?????" replied the poor bastard that got ran over.

"Sorry for mowin' ya down, stranger." Ixol floated back off of them, giggling to themselves. "Didn't see ya there!"

"It's--" the Point got up-- "it's fine." This fellow had a gradient of orange-to-scarlet, and a yellow star for a symbol. Ixol also noted they sounded British.

"You headin' out to meet the others or huh?"

"I'll be there in a moment," they muttered, turning their eyes back to the window.

"...So who the hell are you?" Ixol asked, floating towards the exit as they did.

"Anshine. And who are--" Anshine turned to discover that Ixol had left.

"...Ah."

And in the main room, people filtered in, eventually forming a small crowd. Cyalm scanned them all over, hands nearly shaking with delight at the sight alone.

"Welcome, everyone. It's a pleasure to have you all here."

"Well, it's not like we had a choice," Ixol commented, chuckling.

"...Please, sir," Cyalm muttered, "let me speak."

"As you may know, I summoned you all here for a reason," they continued, motioning to the crowd. "We have much to discuss, you all."

"Alright, discuss, then! Take it away, cloudfella!" Ixol motioned back to them. Cyalm blinked.

"...Very well, then. Have any of you ever heard of a being called Celesteal?"

cursed little devil, what have you seen?

i saw all my friends burn in front of me

and though i thrashed and though i screamed

there was nothing i could do.

and nothing was right anymore.

i’ve grown sick of their forced pity

and the looks that they give me

when i pass them by

“sorry for your loss,” one says

so i caught fire

and so i fled

and followed suit

into the newly-opened room

and through the doors, and through the opening,

i saw you for the very first time.

with you, things felt new

and i felt like i’d never felt before

and days past, and eventually, one day, you’d hugged me

i don’t remember why, or how, or who started it,

but i remember

and my eye fluttered shut

and i fell into you

and i had seen things i’ve never seen before

i saw dimensions like webs strung about amongst eachother

and i saw fields of forest and grass

and i saw a kingdom built upon clouds

and i saw where all my friends once were,

and i reached my hand out towards it and tried to reach it

and then i woke up

you were grasping me in your arms, worry lacing your voice,

trying to wake me from a coma i desired

and i began to sob

at your fingertips, you hold dimensions

in your hands, you hold reality

in your arms, i beg you to hold me

and take me far away from here

Oh, Little Fool,

you scowl at me

beneath the shadow of your hood

voice traced

with bitter hatred

and foul words

Thus, I don’t look you in the face

instead turning my attention

to my own reflection

distorted in your shield

Notice, Little Fool,

my weapon in hand

scarred by use

scarred by sword

scarred, like me

sharpened and swayed

And think of this,

when you claim to me

that I’m weak.

I can fight, can’t I?

Listen, Little Fool,

as the water gently waves

slipping against the shore

gleaming brightened blue

a peaceful, inviting hue

and yet at this, you grimace

“This serenity is a bore,”

you mumbled to me

and I found myself

concerned for your being

See, Little Fool,

the gates of the colosseum

towering far above you

your eyes full of stars

finally seeming happy

finally seeming hopeful

That look in your eyes

worried me greatly

not that you'd harm me,

but that you'd get harmed

Know, Little Fool,

that i pray these words

have reached you somehow

as i kneel before you

your body crumpled

weak and cracked

face still in fear

"I'll crush them all,"

that's what you told me

so why did it all end

like this?

I suppose I was a fool for trusting you when we first met.

You were less distant, back then. You always carried that little notebook around. You still do. From the limited peeks I was able to steal at it, it’s full to the brim of constellation charts and stars. You’d always slam it shut with a glare if I ever got caught so much as glancing towards your drawings, and you chewed me out when I asked what was so special about them.

But I stayed anyway.

It seemed to get worse over time. Once, I saw you carving constellations into the handle of a knife. I never brought it up, and thanks to recent events, I think that was a good idea. You came more shut in, and occasionally didn’t show up to class. When Mayotta went missing, while everyone else searched and panicked, you didn’t care. You just wrote and wrote in that notebook you’ve had for years, now. You treated me like shit.

But I stayed anyway.

After our argument on the stone bridge, I didn’t see you for...years. We both changed a lot during that time. I distanced myself from everyone, just like you had. Because of you, in fact. Took up boxing, got accepted into some private school, and blocked everyone else out. I thought I’d never have to look you in the face outside in the courtyard about three weeks in. I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t know.

I thought, ‘maybe he’s changed.’ ‘Maybe he’s better now.’

You weren’t.

You still carry that old notebook. I’ve seen you with that knife. You have dark circles that make you look like a fucking demon. But at least I’d never have to talk to you ever again. At least you never approached me, and I never approached you.

Someone went missing again. A student’s sister, just the night after some family meetup. You had nobody to bring. I just brought my older brother. The whole time, you eyed this specific girl--long green hair, gray skirt, purple top--kinda pale, if I remember, right. Some student’s sister--Warai’s, I think. Her name was Maria. She wasn’t from around here. She’d come to visit from somewhere in the UK. I didn’t worry too much. Of course I felt bad for him, but I didn’t try speaking to him. I’m the last person anyone wants to see. I didn’t mind the disappearance for a while. I already knew it was you.

Maybe this seems off-topic, but bear with me.

I have two brothers. One, my older brother--Aisubeki. About twenty-two, last time I checked. He’s the one who moved us out of our parent’s house after some issues between us. He’s quite the book nerd, and he’s almost always reading one, if he isn’t filling out some paper or working.

My little brother, Chisai, was twelve years old. He was quite the hyper one, always trying to wrestle me or ’Beki, if he was home. I’ll be the first to admit I was a bad influence--taught him words he really shouldn’t be saying at his age, helped him vandalize a couple things, taught him to fight--all of which Aisubeki chewed me out for. ’Beki’s a good person, though. I know he means well.

Last Sunday night, Aisubeki couldn’t find Chisai in the house. I thought, no big deal, right? More likely than not, he’s trying to prank us. We scanned the entire house inside and out for the kid, and found nothing. What I did find, though, made me feel sick to my stomach.

His room window was broken, and a large stone sat below it in his room.

...You.

My body felt like it was made of smoke. I backed out of the room, directly into my older brother. He asked if I was alright.

You.

I charged out of the hallway and through the front door, not feeling the wood touch my skin at all. I flew across the sidewalk towards the park we disconnected from eachother inside.

You.

That stone bridge...

HISERO.

A bitter scent immediately assaulted my senses.

There you were, Hisero. You stood quietly on that bridge with a bloody knife in your hand, head turned towards the sky, mumbling things I couldn’t hear.

In front of you, Chisai was crumpled on the ground, throat slit. I saw fear in his eyes--wide open like a deer’s in headlights. Where there was once life, there was nothing. Cold, unforgiving death.

My legs almost buckled underneath me. I stumbled onto the bridge, and that alerted you.

You stared at me with a look I’ve never seen on your face before.

I saw nothing behind your eyes but stars.