Art stood up.
His entire form was surrounded—no, revolved—by stars, like the galaxies themselves had bent to orbit him. His silhouette pulsed with an otherworldly brilliance, divinity bleeding from every inch of his presence.
In that moment, Art didn't look human. He looked like a myth etched into the firmament. A celestial figure descending into a mortal dream.
His eyes—once emerald, playful, and always too sharp for his own good—were now incandescent gold. Not merely golden in color, but alive, as though the stars themselves had taken residence in them.
Every time they blinked, constellations shimmered, collapsed, and rebirthed within his gaze.
I was stunned. For a second—just one—I forgot to breathe.
Then, I laughed softly under my breath. "Hey Art… what's with the divine cosplay? Doesn't suit you, you know. Not with that jester personality of yours."
