Celestial Seas Writing Prompts

It wasn't often the two brothers were offered the opportunity to stray far from home, far past the familiar house on the planet they had hatched on. Most of their trips consisted of smaller scale adventures, to the nearby forests or floating stones off the edges of the prairie. Sometimes, those trips took them to lakes and pools of water, and ▇▇, the older of the two, took it upon himself to learn to fish. As soon as he had spotted the creatures swimming lazily in the crystalline waters, he felt the irresistible urge to shoot his hand through the surface and attempt to grab one for himself.

Calling his brother over, "Hey! Watch this! Do you see that?" He points a finger to the shimmering scales of a large fish that lay unmoving direcly under the surface, like a clear cling film over a bowl, ready to be picked up...

Eight, ever full of curiosity and admiration for his sibling, would be over quick, peeking his head through the tall cattails and grass to see what he was referring to.

"Where? What is it?" the smaller brow pulls the hair out of his eyes, parting it down the middle like a curtain to remove the messy mop that was obstructing his vision in hopes to see better. He walks slowly down the steep hill, avoiding any mud between his feet or areas where he might get stuck.

"There!" ▇▇ calls again, pointing a tad more aggressively this time. "Careful, or you'll scare it!!"

"How can I scare what I can't see?"

Rolling his eyes, ▇▇ tugs Eight by the wrist, kneels, and leans over ever so slowly above the water, scanning the rocks below. Eight, observing him with wide eyes, does the same, watching his movements. Eight peeks over the pond, and now that they were lower, he could see--

"Ah!" He exclaims, but ▇▇ is quick to put a hand over his mouth.

"Shhh. I'm gonna try to grab it... watch."

At this age, ▇▇ had started to develop and perfect his first aspect, perception. Eight could tell this was for sure his stronger, more honed aspect, as he was incredibly in tune with his surroundings, more so than others his age would be. He had a knack for the finer details, hidden patterns and had an excellent read on people and animals. This was another reason Eight had looked up to him so much, for his older brother just seemed so clever and intelligent due to this. He looked on like an apprentice to his master as ▇▇ scrutinized the water with a wide gaze, intently focused as his dual-colored eyes trained on the fish below. He was completely still, unmoving. It was almost mesmerizing.

All it took was the faintest flick of a fin--something Eight didn't even notice or fathom-- for ▇▇ to know that was his moment. Quick as a dart, he shoots his hand in the water, and, sure enough, a large, flailing fish is in ▇▇'s hands, getting his fur wet and slapping his forearms. ▇▇ however was smiling, holding the fish up triumphantly as its scales glittered in the light.

"Hah!!!!" He does a little dance, and Eight can't help but cheer with him, fists in the air.

"I wonder... if we can find a way to get more, at the same time. Maybe we can make... a rod? A net? Hm..." The gears in ▇▇'s head were turning.

Eight began to brainstorm as well. His first aspect was crystal... he debated how they could put this to good use. After some trial and error, the two collect a bunch of sticks from the surrounding area in an attempt to see which was the longest and most sturdy. The sun had already set by the time the two birds had created what they felt was an appropriate device: a rod with a hooked glowing crystal at the end--courtesy of Eight--to lure prey, and a net they had fashioned themselves to scoop them out of the water.

The contraption works like a charm, and the two spend their entire evening fishing up anything there was to catch before the pond had nothing left to offer, carrying what they could in their arms back home and deciding to release the rest back into the wild.

This was a core memory for Eight-- when ▇▇ had taught him how to fish, the painstaking process of patience and skill, the days when the two spent hours together on the shore, lines cast and just sitting, chatting the day away. Laughing when one of them failed to catch something, cheering when the other was successful. Sometimes getting frustrated and simply jumping into the water to enjoy their time, splashing each other and playing games.

Things felt different now, as Eight held his Spellcaster Rod alone on the pier, no one beside him but himself, no makeshift crystal wooden rod. The breeze was crisp and wonderful on the Sor Solir beach, the fish in abundance and the sight a beautiful one to behold. But no amount of beautiful scenery or schools of giant fish would make up for the lack of something, or someone, else entirely, to experience it with him. It felt hollow.

The wind rustles Eight's hair as he sighs and pulls out a cigarette to light, wedging it between his lips and waiting, patient, line cast. Patience. If there's anything ▇▇ taught him, it was to wait. He wondered, how long he would have to wait before they would ever fish like this again.