[That's the trouble with it, sometimes. The most wonderful things are also the most fleeting. The hardest to find too, unless one is either looking for them or simply taking matters when and as they come.

But he doesn't mention it. There isn't even so much as whisper of it, both on his lips and in the gentle and aimless drift of his mind. Instead, he listens quietly, offering a nod at the comment about believing in forever.

He doesn't speak again until a moment after that, soft and quiet in that as well.]

It was never the stars, for me, I don't think. But then I went to see the Medusa Cascade, and oh, you should have seen it. If I hadn't wanted to leave before then, I would have, after that. After seeing the colors of that nebula stretched out over the seas of darkness and starlight.