the Voice
She is smaller at this proximity, and Nate might notice as much as she stands beside him on the sands, bathed in static and starlight, her eyes far, far above. It’s as though she can see through the cosmos itself, as if she can see things he cannot - and indeed, it does appear to be that way as she reaches out a hand to the stars. ”Well, let us see if we might rectify that.” She smiles, somehow more human and yet more ethereal than ever before. And a crackle lances out from the Voice’s fingertips, shooting up through the clouds...
And touches something. Interacts with it, calls it, perhaps?
Regardless, it begins to drift down towards them, a lonely little thing, it’s spiralling horn piercing the night as it sings a mournful note, a call for help. Was it always alone? Or did she separate it from its kin? Would Nate question it, either way?
”This is a starwhale,” she explains. ”A baby, of course. As far as connections go, you shall have no gentler reminder.”
And touches something. Interacts with it, calls it, perhaps?
Regardless, it begins to drift down towards them, a lonely little thing, it’s spiralling horn piercing the night as it sings a mournful note, a call for help. Was it always alone? Or did she separate it from its kin? Would Nate question it, either way?
”This is a starwhale,” she explains. ”A baby, of course. As far as connections go, you shall have no gentler reminder.”
