[ti]solo[/ti]Starlight

Stargazing. The nighttime hobby of philosophers, NASA scientists, and Instagram influencers.

It also happened to be one of Chryssa’s.

Many a night had she spent on her bedroom balcony, wrapped in her comforter, staring through a telescope at the night sky. Sometimes she could catch the Aurora Borealis if she was patient. The arctic cold always seemed to fade after awhile, leaving her nose and fingers numb to the touch. She liked to imagine being found there, cold as space iron, spirit departed, eyes consumed by rivers of trailing stars.

Somewhere high up would be best, Morgana thought. In a normal city, the light pollution would have made night viewing impossible. But Ostellia- or Castellia, as it had probably once been- was different. Not a single street lamp was lit after the sun went down. The only light source was the flickering shape of Thunderfall, bright with blue-white static even when the rest of the city succumbed to shadow. Somewhere safe from UB’s.

It was this thought that drove her from the inner nexus, propelling her high-heeled feet to the outer fringes of the city. Desert sand spilled onto the streets, piling up on the outer buildings so the sides of each were sloped like sails. It was too dark to tell what color it was.

But the sky was different.

“If you had eyes, I’d tell you they need to adjust for at least twenty minutes to get the full effect,” Morgana said, opening her inventory and manifesting her Cosmog egg. The shell swirled gently with galaxy-inspired colors, evoking nebulas and cosmic gas. “That's just one of three reasons why you should bother being born.”

The desert was cold, but not as cold as Alaskan winter. Morgana stood with her egg, not in her arms like a mother, but cupped in one hand like the skull of a certain tortured prince. Her eyes, which so often grew vague and cloudy, were surprisingly clear.

“These are the three reasons, so listen carefully.”

“One - to see the sky on a clear night, with your own eyes.”

“Two - to tell Morgana (that’s me, by the way) how funny she is.”

“Three - to tell Guillotine what a n00b she is.”

The Piplup wasn't even there (lmao) but Morgana could still imagine her expression. She was still smiling as she found a place to sit down on one of the dunes, gathering her skirts beneath her. If the egg hatched now, it would complete the moment perfectly.

Would the egg absorb starlight, or reflect it? Was it a mirror of the night sky, or a portrait? Had it lived before? Would it ever live again?

Her smile faded.

“The fourth, secret reason,” she said, “to bother being born, is to play the game. Any time is better than none. You lose when you die,” she added distantly, “but that's not the point.”

Still gazing up at the heavens, Chryssa showed her teeth. “The point is that when that time comes, you make someone out there regret it.”

A star streaked across the sky like blood across a cut, beaded by light.