The Art of the Small (IV)

"-. 20 January, 1989 .-"

On the first day, a family slept and lived a long, fulfilling life.

On the second day, the father ascended to the higher planes, a star that flashed so bright it hid whole worlds behind its light.

And on the third day, the son awoke in the bed where he had up to then slept like the dead.

Then he burst out of the eldritch guts of a most cranky snake and almost nuked the Astral Overlook off the face of the Earth.

Turns out yanking himself out of the chittering belly of the Chaos Serpent and compressing his greater self on every level and plane at once was not the best idea. Not when imposing ultimate pressure and friction upon Substance invariably set things on fire.

The wards shunted him all the way to Tunguska just in time for the explosive reaction of everything within his bounds to blast the plateau to twice its prior size. The Ancient One then teleported to the fringes of his span and portaled him away before he could blast a crater three times the size of that. Which he then promptly did at the South Pole instead, creating a massive new landmark that was only natural insofar as it technically qualified as an act of god.

Star-Lord blasted out of the planet's atmosphere all the way into space before he could cause an ice melt big enough to really affect the climate. He blasted even faster and then breached all the way past the speed of light when the electromagnetic waves started to reach far enough to affect technology and people way down on the planet. He idly wondered what he looked like on whatever telescopes didn't burn out due to his passage. Probably a giant, exploding cloud of red and gold and white.

He had vastly underestimated the degree of correlation between planar frequencies. The effect that contraction – Motion – would inflict on the Substance of the world within his astral and etheric bounds. Or maybe he had overestimated the degrees of separation between them all.

Even now he still overstepped and made assumptions.

He still had enough presence of mind to coordinate with the Ancient One on the rituals they had adapted. Caught up in fire-fighting and repair efforts as he was, the Sorcerer reacted with uncharacteristic exasperation and incredulity at the other end of his Astral emanations. Still, he did his part on the other side of the vibrational boundary despite his misgivings about Peter's priorities.

At least that much went well, Peter thought sourly when he stopped in the Oort Cloud and took stock of himself. Amazingly, his body hadn't burnt to ash despite him being his own miniature sun. Or, well, a molten-hot planetoid quickly shrinking relative to the rest of physical reality, but semantics. Incidentally, his body was also quickly growing and changing to the prime of his adult life because of the rituals he'd just undertaken. Good.

Star-Lord's ability to perceive and affect the physical plane decreased the more he pulled his Self in on itself. Even though it did not lose volume in the slightest, the physical space it took up shrunk the more the willed his outside to contract. The inside stayed the same grand, massive primordial planet that he'd have a lot of fun customising in the future, whenever he was at rest. He even had a lot of ideas already, about how to work around or offset the limits of wanting to continue enjoying existence as a humanoid man. Plus the danger of fully exposing himself to everything that could infringe on his freedom. Until then, though, he'd gladly settle for whatever power he could manifest on the familiar, more human scale. He had filled every empty space between his cells and component atoms with Astral power already, to the point where even full-speed planetary re-entry shouldn't harm him now. And he had 1,024 eyes all open wide, grown on every frond of his physical-astral nexuses. He'd even optimised somewhat the eyes that came with his flesh and blood body. He could easily wait to grow and open the really big spiritual ones, and whatever other organs he grew throughout his planet for himself.

It was hours before he compressed his Celestial Inner World enough to settle it safely in the soul chamber of his Human Astral Body. Between the distraction provided by his father's oh so obvious Enlightenment, and his pre-emptive draw of his outer emanations inward before his own Ascension started, there shouldn't be anyone aware of the birth of a new cosmic… whatever he was. Well, no one not intimately aware of the Ancient One's occult undertakings at least, but it wasn't like Eternity wasn't literally made of everything happening all the time.

As soon as he started on the way back, Star-Lord was immediately challenged in his ability to not affect his surroundings in ways unwanted. For all that his focus had been on internalising his Celestial nature, his human astral shell had grown immensely in the doing and needed to be compressed as well. At least until he could get some practice at not looking into every object and mind and soul within a hundred miles. At minimum.

Secrecy sure was a chore. But you weren't much of a wild or trump card if every psychic and their grandmother could see you coming years in advance from galaxies away.

The vacuum of space within star systems wasn't that much friendlier than the dust and gas-filled extrasolar space, what with the pull of the star and planets and immense levels of unfiltered heat and radiation that could strip life from flesh. He quickly learned the necessity of a protective force field the hard way. He was no Superman, though, to turn his aura into an otherwise unobstructive and invisible coating over his whole body. The best he could do so early in his development, Star-Lord found, was limiting the matter-warping effects of his presence to a red and gold aura leaking all over the place like spectral fire.

Huh. Neat.

Hopefully not too visible to telescopes and the naked eye though.

When he came out of warp speed in high orbit, he immediately made for the Astral Overlook. The sight on the other end of his clairvoyance indicated that his mother was preparing the first family meal of their real life while Grandmother was still asleep. Which was really strange, what kind of woman doesn't react enough to wake up even when a youth 'stealing' ritual adds decades to her life? But on looking ahead with his Astral sight – the Ancient One had excluded him from the concealing aspect of his wards, how nice of him! – he realised that the spirit of his father was nowhere to be found. What?

With worry he hadn't expected to feel so soon in his new life, he paused in low orbit and looked inward and high.

Fortunately he spotted him quickly because, for once, Jason Quill wasn't concealing his presence at all. Unlike practically all of the time in their Idealistic life, which the man had seen the truth of and transcended half-way through because he was just cool like that.

Relieved but disconcerted, Peter Quill flew and portaled to Antarctica again.

He appeared high in the sky, above the massive cloud formed from the steam of the ice he'd flash-boiled. It had been hours and hours since, but it still lingered. Which was actually convenient because it meant he couldn't be immediately spotted despite it still being afternoon at the South Pole at this time of year. Good. Learning to contain all his astral emanations and fade into the background of the planes had been the whole point of that short moment, when his planetary mind was fully unfettered. Invisibility in the physical was proving vastly more troublesome, but his Father's physical eyes probably weren't much better than his were at this point. And until he properly familiarised himself with the Substance, Motion and Consciousness of the real universe, Jason Quill's astral perception should lag behind his own as well.

Peter Quill descended slowly, ignoring the cloud and ice crystals around him to behold the other man. Though he'd been both aware and unaware of his undreaming self during the life in the Dream, he'd never gotten to actually see what his father looked like on the Astral plane. He'd never advanced in the occult enough to find ways around his concealment, and his World Mind had had to be kept still and quiescent until they were done living their ideal life.

Jason Quill… looked like nothing he expected. In fact, Peter couldn't be entirely sure there was a single cohesive Astral body to be found at all. All he could see were meandering, glowing filaments. Strands whirling and long. They prodded, shone and shifted all over and around the space his father stood within. Pure and shining tendrils of white smoke, curled tightly and vaguely into the shape of a human. And at the mid-point of every strand and cord, eyes of fire gazed where all the others didn't.

Peter Quill stared, confounded. The only familiar thing was the number of tendrils. 1024. The same number as his and most everyone else's so-called chakra petals. Even that was a smaller number than the eyes of fire grown into them, of which Peter had grown plenty of his own. But this was nothing like he'd expected at all!

Each of those things sure looked like they had what it took to possess all and sundry though. Especially if they could travel and stretch as far as he thought they could. Which was a lot.

The man was gazing in the distance. Upwards. The same as he'd done in another time each night, staring for hours at the stars. He felt… Mournful. Longing. Resigned.

It was so surprising that Peter couldn't maintain his concealment.

Suddenly, the light twinged and every part of the spirit focused on him completely. Surprised. Pessimistic. Hopeful. Then it leapt straight to where he was planning to land.

Peter Jason Quill portaled the rest of the way down to the already frozen surface of the new lake he'd created. "~Father~ Your handsome son is coming ho-~"

He thought to surprise him by singing the best part of the Hymn of Spartax but he couldn't get the verse out because Jason Quill landed from his 100 yard-long jump and embraced him. Peter was so taken aback he didn't think of hugging back. He couldn't even withdraw his auric field in time. It scalded and burned the older man but it didn't seem to matter to him at all. His father just held him. Hugged him. Clung to him.

Why was he so…?

… Oh.

"I wasn't going to just disappear on you, Dad."

"You always did before."

His past lives played at the back of his mind in a flash. "I always did, didn't I?" In those rare cases where he went to visit at all, always briefly and on a collision course with whatever interests and goals hid Dad held for his own. In some lives, his dad wasn't even the sort of jerk that would explain the estrangement and conflict.

Peter Quill sighed and returned the embrace of his father.

Jason Quill tightened his hold and pressed his cheek again the top of his head. He was still taller than him, Peter noticed. And always so very tender. He didn't mind it.

"I love you, son."

He minded those words even less, but he never got any reply past the lump in his throat when he heard them.

They stood there for a while. Enough for Peter's mind to wander over his surroundings. The new lake seemed to span some three hundred miles in diameter and was a perfect circle in Antarctica's otherwise mountainous surface. The top water layer had already frozen over as well, thickly enough to easy support a man or five. Astral traces indicated that a very specific form of life had spent some time diving and swimming through it in the recent past.

Peter wondered about his father. Had he gone diving thinking he might have been down there?

Eventually, the man reluctantly pulled away from his son and rubbed lightly at his blistered cheek. "Your control is still shit."

"Well that's not exactly fair. I'm not the one who jumped head-first into a glowing ET from space."

Averting what might otherwise have become an awkward conversation, the Ancient One chose that moment to portal his way into the situation, though he looked far less ancient than before.

Good. That meant he followed through on a youth 'stealing' ritual of his own as well.

"I admit," Yao said in that calm, kindly old man voice that nevertheless sounded less gravelly than before. He had half as many wrinkles now and his hair was black instead of white, Peter noted. "This is without a doubt the most personally beneficial apotheosis I ever witnessed." He tapped his cane on the ice cap, sending vibrations of sound and light traveling outwards through the ice, like fractals. "And I suspect I have only begun to grasp the full scope of results long-term."

Substance and Motion thrummed all around them, as if the ritual to steal lifespan from an immortal god and rejuvenate three different people at once back to their prime had used up a bare pittance of power. Of course, that was exactly what had happened. And it had all been his plan from start to finish, Peter thought with the satisfaction of a job well done.

Practicalities notwithstanding.

Hold on, had he performed the magic here?

Come to think of it, there were distinctly arcane-like circles and lines made from colored ice all around them. Had the Sorcerer used this spot for that particular magic? He supposed it would make sense, depending on just how much cosmic power had been left over before he blasted off.

"Should I spend some time cleaning up after myself?" Peter asked.

"Perhaps if miscreants gather in too high a number or frequency, but for now I believe the world can be well-served by a place of power such as this."

New. Powerful. Untainted. Associated with birth, rebirth and ascension.

"Incidentally, the young miss would like it known that dinner is almost ready," Yao told them before nodding at them both and stepping back into his home. The portal shut behind him.

Arctic winds blew over the two of them. They ignored it. Neither man felt the cold.

"So," Dad said. "Ready to head home?"

Ready yes. Willing? "… I think I'd rather fly for a while."

"Ah," Jason Quill smiled fondly. "I'll wait here then." An astral strand detached from him entirely, brightest and soundest and burning to Peter's higher sight with three pairs of gold eyes. It wrapped around Peter's body until it seemed to almost belong to him. There wasn't even a crystal cord connecting it back to its origin, even though there was always one to follow back to one's body until and unless they died. Peter could have done so to return from the Web of Life, had he the eyes to see such subtle things back then, which he didn't.

"Stay where I can see you?" Jason Quill entreated.

"How far is that?"

"As far as you'll let me."

Considering that the man barely looked different even after the rejuvenating ritual, the subtext of promise in that answer would probably go very far indeed.

Peter could cast it off easily. Or shunt it to his inner world to wander forever, blind to whatever he did outside. Discard it. Discard him. He felt like doing none of those things now.

Instead he stepped back, jumped from the South Pole all the way into low orbit in a single bound, and circumnavigated the world.