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Summary:

Kingo is observant; he pays attention. He loves his friends and tries to be aware of what is going on in their lives - and sometimes to deflect the others attention away from them if necessary.

He is probably the only person who has figured out that Sprite is in love with Ikaris.

Notes:

I loved in the film a. when Kingo told Sprite how much he'd always loved her stories because that is so sweet and pure and honestly made me love Kingo a lot, and b. when we find out that Sprite made up the story about Ikaris flying into the sun - I love the idea that the stories and myths we know were all because of Sprite's storytelling.

(Written for the prompt "shining", which I got my little sister to pick off a prompt table for me.)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Kingo is the first one to notice when someone is missing from the group. (Unless it’s Thena; then Gilgamesh is always first.) Usually, he is also the first to figure out why. If it’s Makkari, she’s stealing something to see if she can. If it’s Thena, she’s off hunting Deviants. If it’s Sirse then it’s also Ikaris and it's because they’re together. If it’s Ajak, it’s because she has to report to Arishem.

When it’s Sprite, it’s because she’s sad.

She has been slipping away with increasing frequency in the past few months since Sirse and Ikaris got married. Nobody else seems to think anything strange of it; it is Sprite after all, and she does what she wants. Sometimes she gets into moods where she wants to be alone, and that is expected. The others choose to respect her privacy, assuming that she will do the same for them.

Kingo respects her privacy too, but he also understands that this is different than simply needing her space. He never makes a big deal of the fact, but Kingo is observant; he pays attention. He loves his friends and tries to be aware of what is going on in their lives, and sometimes to deflect the others attention away from them if need be.

He is probably the only person who has figured out that Sprite is in love with Ikaris.

Not that Kingo knows about being in love from personal experience, of course; that’s never been his thing. (He thinks he might just be a little too in love with himself to ever feel that way for anyone else.) But he has watched it in the eyes of Sirse, of Gilgamesh, of Druig and Makkari, for over a thousand years. He knows what that looks like. And Sprite is deep in it for their flying friend.

The wedding had definitely been hard for her, not that she had said anything to anyone. In fact, she had come and laughed and celebrated along with everyone else, but Kingo could tell that it wasn’t the same. The brilliant light of her had dimmed, and he hadn’t seen it back again except in brief spurts since that event.

So when she slips away one night, when everyone else is laughing and talking and listening to Phastos try to create new technology that will not interfere with the natural progression of humans — and everyone having lots of opinions about everything that he suggests — Kingo follows her. She has had several months of time alone with this. He doesn’t want to pry, but he thinks that at this point, maybe what she needs is a friend.

He finds her on a rooftop, sitting with her back against the chimney, her knees drawn up to herself, crying softly.

For a second, he thinks about letting her be. Sprite has always been a strong personality, and he doesn’t think she will appreciate being seen at her most vulnerable. She will probably be angry at him.

...But also, she has been sad for a long time. Kingo doesn’t want her to be alone in that anymore.

He ends up backpedaling a little, then making enough noise on his approach to let her know that he’s there. By the time that he reaches her perch, a cosmic glow has washed over her face, banishing all evidence of tears.

She gives him an innocent frown as he approaches. “Kingo, what are you doing up here? I thought you were helping Phastos with the others.”

He chuckles, and seats himself beside her against the chimney. The roof tiles underneath them are still warm from the afternoon’s sun.

“If I have to listen to one more electricity-powered invention that he’s trying to finagle into an era that's barely past the stone age, I’m going to lose my mind.” That part is actually not a lie — Phastos has been having a hard time with the ‘crawl of progress’, as he sees it. He just wants the humans to move a little bit faster. “Besides, I like the rooftops in the moonlight; it’s a vibe. You’ve got to have a story about that, somewhere.”

Sprite folds her arms on her knees and looks away. “I’m not in the mood to make up stories,” she huffs.

No, she hasn’t been telling any stories for a while now. Certainly not since the wedding.

“That’s too bad,” Kingo bumps her shoulder gently with his. “I’ve missed hearing them, you know. And obviously seeing them. But you’ve always told the best stories, Sprite; and after that, Phastos trying to invent the lightbulb while humans are still learning about the wheel just can’t really compare.”

“Why are you really here, Kingo?” Sprite grumbles, frowning at him now. “I see what you’re trying to do, and you don’t need to waste your time on it. I’m fine.” She narrows her eyes. “I know that I look like a kid, but I’m as old as you are, you know. You don’t have to babysit me like I can’t take care of myself.”

Her outburst surprises Kingo a little bit, not in the least because she’s got him all wrong. He can’t speak for the others, but he’s pretty sure that she’s got most if not all of them wrong, too.

It hurts a little, actually.

“Do you think that’s why I’m out here? You think I’m trying to coddle you?” Clearly Kingo needs to work on his friendship skills, if she is that far off from the truth. “I don’t think of you as a kid, Sprite. Sure you’re… I don’t know, short and stuff? But I know you’ve lived as much as I have. You might have even seen more, because people talk to you. They trust you with their secrets. But I don’t think of you as young or old or anything; you’re just you. You’re my best friend, and I care about you, and that’s why I’m out here. Because you’re my friend. I know that… everything can be a lot sometimes,” he waves a vague hand to encompass all that he can’t say about the mission and their weird little family and Sirse and Ikaris and the world, “but I just didn’t want you to have to be alone.”

He pauses, and is wholly unprepared for the amount of vulnerability that he feels. But he senses that Sprite needs more, and he would do almost anything to see that spark light up in her again. “It’s weird anyways being one of us, watching all the humans around us live and die in what feels like minutes. That’s lonely enough. But being separated from each other…” Kingo shudders theatrically, not because he is exaggerating, but because he knows no other way to be. “You help me feel less alone,” he admits finally.

The expression that Sprite favours him with is much softer than it had been a moment ago. Kingo can’t tell if it’s because she appreciates the sentiment, or if she likes the fact that she is able to take care of him instead of feeling like he’s taking care of her. (Though really they are all taking care of each other in their own ways, all the time.) He decides it doesn’t really matter. As long as Sprite is happy and feels loved, he isn’t concerned with the little details.

“...Do you really want me to tell you a story?” she sighs, sounding long-suffering. It’s nearly as dramatic as Kingo might have been (it’s one of the reasons he likes spending time with her).

He schools his features into something appropriately innocent. “Only if you’re up for it.”

Sprite narrows her eyes at him, but her lips are already twisting in the beginning of a grin as she climbs to her feet. “So I’ve been thinking about some new characters,” she begins, waving her hands through the air. The glittering golden images of an impish boy and a tiny girl with wings sparkle into existence. “He’s a boy who sneaks across rooftops in the moonlight, looking for kids like him, and his best friend is a tiny fairy girl who is secretly in love with him…”

Kingo leans back against the warm stone of the chimney and smiles as he watches Sprite’s latest story unfold in the air all around him. He recognises but does not comment on the obvious parallels to parts of her life, because stories are what helps her cope and he is not about to take that away from her. The more she talks, the brighter her light grows, until she is bursting with it, glorious and shining bright.

That’s better, he thinks fondly to himself as his best friend comes back from the shadows. Everything is as it should be.

Notes:

I fully believe that Sprite made up Peter Pan.

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