isn't it lovely all alone, heart made of glass, my mind of stone
She looks at the stars in an attempt to feel something, anything, but still there is nothing.
She thinks that maybe that is where she is supposed to be, as she looks with an upturned face towards the celestial expanse above. They glimmer and blink, reflecting off the dark purple of her eyes, as she tries so hard to remember, or to understand. Something about them feels like home, but even in the most tangled of dreams, she cannot remember ever being there. It doesn’t make sense, though, how she can pull at the light that they emit. How she can twist and play with it, sometimes turning it into something tangible. She doesn’t understand how, occasionally, she can flash a light so bright that she feels like she is a star.
And yet, for all the power she wields, she cannot make the connection. No matter how much she plays with the starlight, it never fully makes sense.
She doesn’t manipulate them now, however. She simply watches, her strikingly white body glowing just faintly, as it always did on starlit nights. But her eyes narrow when a particular star begins to shimmer and move, and she follows the showertrails of it where it falls to meet a stallion that stands in the distance. The stardust threads itself around him, the same way she has been able to do with the starlight, and for the first time in a long time, there is an inquisitive ember rising in her chest. She has never met anyone else that could connect with the stars; her mother and twin sister couldn’t, and any questions regarding what kind of powers her father had were always hastily evaded.
When she approaches him she is not cautious, but she still stops a few feet away, staring at him with a mixture of fascination and suspicion. She still has not grown comfortable with conversation, and even though her voice is light and lilting, there is something detached and awkward in the way the words are formed on her tongue, “You can control the stars. How?”
@[Astrophel]