Righteous . Compassionate . Driven

The paltry glow-in-the-dark stars she'd stuck to the ceiling seemed all the more perfunctory now, in their pale, sallow yellowness, and Andromeda wonders briefly, round purple eyes squinting through the darkness, if she should reach up and claw them out with her teeth. A low grumble stirs in her throat as she snorts to herself, tossing a pink fruit loop in the air and catching it in her jaws, before bowing her great head back to the bluish glow of the many computer screens laid out before her.

Across the desk are journals and sticky notes; a vibrant light-up keyboard pulses violet, sprinkled over by the many-colored fruit loops that've decidedly escaped Andromeda's bottomless cereal box. Three black monitors spin ribbons of code, each one on the final steps of her little transfer project--an unprecedented "donation," as she'd like to call it, from a devilish Mr. Filthy Rich so-and-so whose now-unlocked bank account could deal with more than a few tuition-sized tips to the sweet, underpaid baristas Andromeda had met earlier today. Serves him right for bullying them to tears with his temper. She stretches her paws against the edge of the desk, humming contentedly as a pop-up window confirms tonight's success.

"Another day, another dream come true!" Andromeda declares cheerily to the stillness of the dark room, spinning her chair around and popping another handful of fruit loops into her maw. Her voice grates a little, having been unused for some time now. "Brought to you by your local big-moneyed trouble-makers--yeah, you'll all get what you deserve--and of course, your diva darling, the most punctual of all your wishing stars, even from across the globe, Andromeda--me, yes, thank you--agh--ugh--"

The jaguar sputters and coughs as a stream of sugary rainbow breakfast treats travel down her throat.

That was too much, wasn't it? The universe seemed to think so.

Some nights, Andromeda wondered how those whose lives she's tempered with perceived her: as a hero, doing what she knew was a process that worked; what had to be done--the dirty deeds, deserved as they were--or a villain, precisely because of that, sitting against a big high-backed chair in the dark, surrounded by computer screens and emptiness, stirring trouble on the great wide web, higher and mightier than the rest of the world. She certainly hoped it wasn't the latter--nothing she ever did was for the gratitude, not really. It was the subtle glint in a child's eye when they've scrapped up enough coins for an ice pop, or the bright grins on a pair of shopkeeps tending to their wares, that she loved to see on the rare occasions she'd leave her den. The city; the world was built of dreams. Dreams and magic. And who was Andromeda but a dreamer, out of many, who didn't need magic to be a wish-granter--a star that walked, and talked, and listened as sky and land, in the dark of night, became one: balanced and equal, wound in the calming blanket of quiet peace.

Andromeda scarfs down some more of the sugary rings, and chases the cereal down her throat with a quick lap of water. Her muscles groan as she unfolds her bent limbs, shaking off the sleep as outside, the moon gleams. Now that all was quiet, the hour ungodly enough for all but the bats and owls and all other night creatures to be up and about, Andromeda did what she did best, slinking her sore body out the door and up the fire escape, where the roof sloped low enough to easily climb. She'd set up her telescope on a perch where some of the bricks had cracked off, and giddily, she springs up to her lookout, flicking her tail excitedly and slumping onto the strawberry-pattered blanket that sat there.

Under the lens, the night sky unfurled in all its familiar puzzle pieces. Jupiter wasted no time making itself known. Where it appeared, Mercury and Venus were never too far away, hidden as they were amidst the bright stars--nothing at all like her own ceiling, no--here, light came in sudden places, mapped yet ever-changing. Andromeda gasps softly as, gleaming eyes scanning through the darkness, a pinprick of light catches her eye. It blinks awake, slowly, uttering wordlessly a silent hello, and Andromeda felt a her breath catch. After all, stars were signs of wishes granted, were they not?

credit - 500g