C-S: Scrapbook Pages

A beam of early sunlight crept past the deep blue curtains, inching around the stars stitched in silver thread. It danced over a worn model of the local star system perched on the edge of a dark wooden desk, creeping around the edges of the pages strewn about the area. It illuminated drawings of planets, islands, and spatial sea routes as it went. Some of the ink was only a day old, while other pages were ancient and clearly drawn by a different hand. The sunlight fell to the floor, slinking across a fluffy space-themed rug and up the edge of an aged four poster bed. It finally found the slightest crack in the canopy and pierced its way through into the sleeping face of the browbird beyond.

Astra mumbled in protest as he tried to escape from the light, tossing and turning in his nest of blankets and pillows. But try as he might, he couldn't escape the stubborn sunbeam. After a few more grumbles, he slowly rose from his comfortable bed, his long, dark blue hair dreadfully askew. With a great yawn, the celestial navigator slash magic user pried himself out of his nest and stumbled over to the durable gilded brush that always lay faithfully on the nearby antique vanity table. Without even looking in the mirror, Astra sat down at the vanity and started the arduous task of brushing his increasingly long hair.

He was much more awake by the time the task got to a point of "playfully messy". The browbird set his brush down with a clack on the desk of the vanity and stretched his arms up in the air, back cracking slightly. With a smile, he made his way over to the curtains where the dreadful sunlight had gotten through and threw them open. The sight of his bedroom balcony awash with soft yellow greeted him, and Astra unlocked the glass doors with a click before stepping outside.

The bird made his way to the edge of the balcony, leaning on the railing with both hands and looking out over the gently rolling forest-covered hills that lay below his tower home. He followed the trees to the flatter fields of grass and wildflowers that lead to tilled farmlands. Squinting against the sun, he could see the shining seaside town that lay just beyond the fields. Twinkling against that was the faint blue of the ocean.

It was a beautiful start to his day. Astra inhaled the crisp morning air with one deep breath. The chill in it tickled his nose, and the exhale came out as a sudden sneeze instead. "Rats," mumbled the browbird, hurrying away from his balcony to grab a handkerchief.

His nose just had to go and ruin the view.