Ciri
“I used to be.” Ciri nods slightly, whatever minuscule doubt extinguished by the endless dark purple of the mare’s eyes. “Me too.” She responds softly as she takes a few steps closer to her. Her voice was unlike any she had ever heard before, bringing her back to dreams and memories from lifetimes that were long forgotten. There’s a moment of epiphany when she gets the sense that the moon-white mare may have burned in the sky for a very long time, much longer than she ever had.
Islas gives a whisper of a smile as she offers her name and the dark mare smiles back, unable to keep the spark of excitement from the silver strands of her swirling eyes. Ciri had always wondered if she had been the only one, if there were others like her that had been hand plucked from the galaxy and tossed into mortal bodies. As if mirroring her thoughts, the glowing mare pulls down the starlight and starts spinning intricate webs of beautiful handwoven stars. “I’m Ciri.” She breathes softly and then pulls from the sky herself, displaying the brilliant shield of nebulas and galaxies that float protectively around her, tiny balls of celestial plasma streaking stardust amongst the orbiting threads of blue and purple.
With an almost sheepish grin she banishes her star shield, searching the angular planes of Islas’s face. “Why are you here?” It’s what she’s always longed to know and wonders if maybe this wiser version of herself might have uncovered the secret that’s long been hidden from her. “I’ve never met another one. Another star I mean.” Giving an explanation to her eagerness almost like an apology because she has so many questions but has no idea if Islas even has the kind of answers that she seeks. There’s a familiar pain as an unbidden memory of Amet comes to mind, when he had watched her call her astral aura around her for the first time. He would have been excited, she thinks, that the world was watched by fallen stars. The pang of sadness lingers, not necessarily because it’s the golden scaled stallion that she misses but the fact that she really doesn’t have anyone to share this exciting news with. Perhaps Gale would care, he who had inspected her shield and twinkling companions with the intensity of a scholar. Maybe he could share her delight.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
@[Islas]