The sun: the benefactor of the world that which all life relies upon. Chloroplasts in plants begin their daily jobs as it rises, and when the night comes, mist descends onto them. And the moon: the guiding light within a dark night. A guardian against the evils of the world. The pale reflection of the sun’s warmth, refracted and changed to make it its own.[break][break]

It varies culture to culture, the importance, morality, and aspects of the moon. Some view it as evil. The sun’s antithesis, a copycat and deceiver. Others place it as an equal. That from the astronomically unique position of the planet, it appears the same size in the sky as the sun. Then, perhaps, its power, while not as strong as the sun, is much more attuned to affect those living below it.[break][break]

Others, however, place it before the sun. The ability to show itself during the night, where even the all-powerful sun hides away, its strenuous, tugging effect on the tides, and the sickness it can cause in those especially associated with it.[break][break]

Despite someone’s views on it, one thing may always remain true. Despite its smaller, arguably lesser power: it, by itself, can defeat the sun. During the rare solar eclipse, the sun is choked, stifled by the moon; reminding the sun that, yes, even though your power is greater than mine, I have true control over this planet.[break][break]

The moon, however, is mostly irrelevant to the average citizen. Humans and other subspecies go about their days, only noticing the great, rocky ball, when it shines through a cloudless night sky, or when it appears gibbous during the day. The sun is unignorable, its presence literally controls their sense of time and indirectly controls society as a whole. And as the sun is high overhead, and the day is in session, events and people align as the stars themselves change and orbit.[break][break]

——[break][break]

A quiet, droning, hum exasperates through the sole unkempt field of a prestigious academy. How ironic that, in its most desolate part characters as if suspended in a work of fiction, mix together, drawn by marionette strings into the freshly grown spring grass. The air is cool but steadily warming, but it buzzes with the statically charged electricity of a nearby presence.[break][break]

It’s quite childish, actually. The pegasi: well, to any academy-goer, the man with the big wings and the big horn, is spending his time stooped over in the field adjacent to the building, picking wildflowers. For his personal garden (and alchemical projects), he preens over the delicate, sometimes thorny flowers, and places them into a wicker basket thrown over his forearm. While technically in graduate school, studying modern medicine, he often bounds back to his own healing magic and a hobby: gardening and alchemy.[break][break]

At this rate, he could make a better profit as a witch-doctor than an actual doctor.[break]
It leads him thinking about why he’s even in college, racking up copious student debts.[break]
Well, then, as his puppeteer thinks, his history is currently confusing, and he, nor his overseeing presence remembers about his previous job. Maybe he has money from that? Or the admiring glances on the street? Or the songs, with his voice, saved on his phone.[break][break]

Nevermind that.[break][break]

He wipes away a small amount of sweat from his forehead. Sometimes, actually most times, his tallness leads towards back pain and a spinning sense of vertigo, especially when bent over picking flowers in a field.[break][break]

He hears a familiar voice over the droning static he was drowning out through sheer focus. Sharaku? And he sounds angry, which isn’t out of the ordinary. He walks over to him, preparing a greeting, before seeing a large (large!) bird roosting in front of him. "Oh."[break][break]

He squints slightly, "A phoenix?" he quietly questions to himself. He thinks to his dorm-mate (and possible friend, he doesn’t remember), Kiran.[break]
"No. Oh, and hey Sharaku." He silently wonders what the sun-sensitive creature has business in this field, but doesn’t say anything. It’s not any of his business, and is probably in not place to ask, considering he was just picking flowers.[break][break]

"Don’t be so hostile," he scolds him, albeit still nicely.[break]
"Uh," he begins, "Are you okay? Can we help you?"[break][break]

Perhaps to what looks like a phoenix, two creatures attuned so finely and strongly to the moon, a were creature and a pegasi (who exhibits strong lunar magic), might be suspicious. Ryan knows that. But other city-dwelling phoenixes he met usually don’t mind. He hopes that this one won’t either.