cause you were made from stars to live a life you’d never love

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The stars were different here, a fact that hasn't struck Penthesileia until she finally settled down for the night and turned her gaze upward, allowing her senses to soak in the vastness above. It was a revelation that crept up on her—unassuming at first—but then unfurling like the petals of a blossoming flower in morning light as she became immersed in the celestial display going on above her. The sky was a kaleidoscope of swirling colors, with streaks of deep indigo mingling with hints of emerald and violet, all punctuated by bright, twinkling lights that danced like spirits in the night. Even the night sky above her silent cottage wasn’t as magnificent and clear as this is. 

Staring up at the radiant moon—its surface aglow, casting a silver sheen that brushed gently against her fur—Bunny felt a soothing rush of tranquility wash over her as all her worries eased from her mind. The moon hung like a guardian in the night, illuminating the countless tiny stars that adorned the velvety expanse above. Although the enormity of it all was daunting, there was a comfort in the realization of her smallness, as if the universe was waiting for her tale to unfold.

Lying on her back, cradled by the soft earth beneath her and swaying prairie grass, Bunny found solace in the stillness of the night after a day of long travel. Memories of verses and stanzas rose like smoke in her mind, and one particular poem floated to the surface, delicate as the night air. “A habitation marvelously planned, for life to occupy in love and rest…” The words flowed from her lips in a soft, rhythmic whisper, like a lullaby sung to the stars. Though the rest of the poem eluded her, those lines had always resonated deep within, sparking a flicker of contemplation. What did it mean to occupy such a space, to exist within a plan so grand and intricate? Even now, under this otherworldly sky, Bunny felt that familiar tug of curiosity, a yearning to uncover the secrets woven into her surroundings and perhaps, by extension, the secrets of her place among those in this new world.

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She was absorbed watching the marvel playing out before her to notice Callahan approach. At least until his southern drawl caressed the shells of her ears. She twitched momentarily, craning her head in the direction his voice came from. He was obscured by the tall grass shielding her from view and for a moment she wondered just what he was doing until it hit her. A small smile formed on her lips as she playfully rolled her eyes to herself. A silly man indeed. “It is,” she replied, her voice a soft murmur carried on the night air. “Are you going to join me, or are you content to remain a shadow amidst the brush?”

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She waited patiently for Callahan to decide just what exactly he was going to do, content as she was to just remain taking in the beauty of the galaxy above her without edging the poor man on. He would come when he wished for it, otherwise, why else would he have taken the time out of his night to come find her? The soft crunch of grass shifting beneath his paws and the sudden warmth of his presence despite the space between them was answer enough.

“You are more than welcome by my side,” she offered sweetly with a closed eye smile to pair with her softly spoken words. “I was just watching the stars and thinking of poetry.” She shifted until she was sprawled on her side, propped up on her elbow to look at the man beside her. The accidental closing of the distance between them, a mere consequence of her comfortable sprawl, wasn’t something she had meant to intentionally do. She was blissfully unaware what her careless shuffling might trigger within the poor man beside her as she animatedly leaned forward. “Back on the homestead I had a journal—more of a scrapbook, really—of poetry that I absolutely adored. I might have also used the poor thing to press flowers and other plants alongside my botanical drawings between the pages.” Her originally soft tone grew more lively the more she talked about her beloved scrapbook of a journal. She missed the book, but she had read it enough times, turned the pages with her fingers enough times, and felt the worn and well loved, supple leather between her hands enough times to know everything by heart.

“I think one of my favorite poems would be some of Edgar Allen Poe’s works—’all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream’.” She sighed out dreamily, a sagging of her shoulders accompanying her words. “Makes you wonder just what he was trying to say, don’t you think?” Bright sage green eyes gleamed in the night. Then she flushed in embarrassment, ears pinning backwards as she bashfully smiled. “Sorry, I’m sure you came out here for some peace and quiet. Not to listen to me ramble on about poetry of all things.”

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