Starsin, despite not being exactly sugar and spice and everything nice, was actually decidedly nonjudgmental of outward appearances. Maybe she would be, if she couldn’t peel back the curtains of their mind and read their every thought. She didn’t need to see how pretty or how handsome they were — although being aesthetically pleasing was always a positive. She wanted to see how fucked up they were on the inside. She wanted to read every wretched thought so she knew exactly which angle to play.
She wasn’t cruel. She was just a teenage girl with not enough going on in her own life.
Vadar is self-conscious of his facial markings, and she regards him with veiled scrutiny. He is not like her perfect golden boy, but he doesn’t have a reason to be so worried about his white marking and pale red eyes. Of course she’s not going to tell him that. Not yet at least. ”You don’t want to be alive? But...why?” She is genuinely curious. At only a year old, she had already had her fair share of hardships. Being born to a harlot, uncaring mother, she learned first-hand that love was not unconditional. It was not a birthright. But it was something she had accepted, and even if she didn’t know how to take kindness when it was shown to her — such as from Ophanim — she still didn’t have any qualms with being alive.
But he is drawn to her constellations, and she watches him patiently as he tries to piece it together. A slow simper lifts the corner of her lips, tossing her inky forelock from her cobalt blue eyes as she retorts teasingly, ”They gave them to me. They said the stars needed to be closer, and who better to display them than me?” There is a tilt of her head, as though daring him to argue.
She sidles alongside of him, reaching out then to just barely touch her muzzle against his shoulder. ”You seem sad.” Her voice is so soft she almost fools herself into being actually concerned; and a part of her is. She is trying to learn how they work, how everyone ticks, so that maybe someday, she doesn’t have to fake it anymore.
@[Vadar]
