Submission (#5855) Approved

Inksha isn’t used to celebrating. He tends to go into hibernation around the time that most Elnin are out partying, and he’s never really had any friends beyond the flora and fauna, so… 

“What’s the point of a lantern?” Inksha inquires, prodding the patterned paper folded around a waxy wick. “Lighting one does nothing but litter and cause potential forest fires.” 

“Not if we’re careful!” Nono cheers. “Plus we’re in the middle of the desert, hon. Most we’ll make is a bit of glass.”

Inksha casts his gaze over. Nono’s currently decorating his own lantern with diamonds. The arch of his brows and playful uptick of his grin eases Inksha. 

“I suppose,” Inksha concedes. Nono just chuckles.

Looking around, Inksha takes focus on their campfire. They’ve dug up a pit in the sandy dunes of Ahza’s outbacks. He scrounged up some bones and stone from the surrounding area to form a barrier, and a pile of ashy sticks and frayed cacti form their tinder. 

The fire spits and crackles at him. Almost as if it knows he’s taken some of the last remnants of life from a dusty, barren wasteland for such a useless purpose. To celebrate as the stars fall? What a terrible thing to commemorate. 

As if sensing his internal thoughts, Inksha’s pomu pops into existence. The smudge seems to notice the white sand immediately, chuffing in surprise at the texture. He wiggles his way into it, rolling around like a chinchilla.

It’s stupid. Still makes him laugh, though.

Going back to his lantern, Inksha grabs at the paints while his pomu collects a couple stray bones. They’re tiny little things, probably from some desert lizard vermin that perished long ago. At the little creature’s request, he glues a couple of them to the paper. 

The design is starting to come together, at least. An odd mess of bone, painted leaves, and gold shavings form a tight net around the base of the lantern. It’s asymmetrical and veers off to one side on one of the rings, but the nature of working with his own paws settles something inside him he’d missed since he left his inlet grove.

Inksha glances down at his pomu. “Do you like it?” And after some enthused nodding— “I’ll save the paper for your lantern when you crystallize, then.” 

“Great idea!” Nono pipes up from across the fire. The praise lights something inside Inksha. “Maybe I’ll save mine, too.”

The light from the day has been whittling down as they decorate, but the last bit of it disappears across the horizon as Inksha places the final touches. The warmth of the dunes still permeates into his body, though, and the cozy fire lights up the area with a soft glow. 

Inksha watches Nono work on his own celebratory lantern. His face is unnaturally serious as he crafts, his paws deft and controlled with the small materials. It’s turning out to be a beautiful, circular paper lantern embellished with pearly adornments and deep rouge markings. 

It’s beautiful. So is Nono, but that’s hardly a new discovery.

Firelight dances in the other Elnin’s eyes as he looks up. Something inside Inksha twists and frays. Before he can say anything, Nono makes a surprised noise and looks away. Following his gaze, Inksha turns his face upwards and catches the tail end of a pastel pink trail.

He’s not quite sure what he’s looking at for a second, but then it hits him. Quite literally, in fact, as a stray piece hits him on his forehead. The stars are falling; Starfall Faire has begun.

Nono’s on his feet instantly. “C’mon baby red, time to light these lanterns up!” 

Scrambling on his paws, Inksha sinks back into the sand before regaining his balance. Nono is practically dancing around the fire as he hops from foot to foot impatiently. 

Inksha’s pomu putters around, trying to help him assemble his lantern and its candle with wires. After putting together a passpable floating lantern, he joins Nono on his side of the fire. 

“We can do this one of two ways,” Nono starts off. He takes two twigs away from the edge of the fire, lighting the tips of both. He holds them in one paw, offering the farthest one up to Inksha. “First way is more common; we both light our own wick while wishing for something. Most people wish for generic garbage like ‘good luck’ or ‘emotional guidance,’ but you’re free to do whatever you’d like.”

Nono seems to hesitate for a moment. 

“And the second way?”

After glancing at Inksha, Nono continues. “The second way involves lighting the wick on the other nin’s lantern. You’ll wish for something for the other’s benefit; you’re essentially giving up your own wish in favor of giving a boon to someone you care for. In turn, you trust the other person will also give you a good wish.” 

Inksha already knows what he’s going to say, but Nono interrupts before he can do more than open his mouth.

“Normally it’s done with your partner. Romantic partner, I mean.” 

“Oh.”

Nono wouldn’t offer up both methods if he wasn’t ready to do one of them, right? At least, Inksha hopes he wouldn’t. But hope is a fickle thing, and he’s learned the hard way that life can be cruel. 

Without thinking, Inksha grabs one of the twigs and presses himself so he’s tucked against Nono’s side from shoulder to thigh. Their fur curls around each other, tails sweeping and slithering until they’re twined together at the end. 

“I have many wishes for you, Nanami,” Inksha says into Nono’s neck. “I would give all of mine to you, if you’ll have them.” He peeks back up at Nono to find the Elnin flushed, mouth parsed and expression open. Then he smiles fondly, and nuzzles his chin on the top of Inksha’s head.

“Don’t know if I can top that confession, but I’d swap wishes with you anytime, doll.”

Inksha pulls away to push his twig into Nono’s lantern, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment while he pours his thoughts and prayers into the flame. He moves back and watches the older ‘nin do the same to his lantern. They both watch the lanterns flicker and flash for a little bit, before Nono tosses his twig down in favor of wrapping his arm around Inksha’s waist. 

With a flick of his paw, Nono’s lantern lifts off into the sky. Inksha follows his lead and does the same. 

With a gentle breeze to guide them, two lanterns float off into the air amidst an array of falling stars, the milky white of the sloping dunes reflecting the moonlight as their hopes fly further and further away.

(And if it takes until morning to chase the paper husks down to reuse next year when their pomus hibernate, no one else is there to know.)