starry night solitude

Cosmogaia sat as still as stone on the small planet she'd found only a few hours ago. She assumed it was hours, anyways- it had been night to the planet when she arrived and it was still night as she sat there, so unless this was an eternal night and she'd lost all sense of self, it'd only been a few hours. Distantly, she could remember being young and feeling the aching pull to move. After she'd been created and lost everything, she hadn't wanted to stay in the same space for long.

But she was older now. Older meant being wiser to the feeling of loss, older meant having seen tens, thousands, billions of stars and realizing all of them held the same scattered chance she had hit. Each star in the endless infinity was another Luminite waiting to be born. Another star teetering on the edge of dying.

This planet was small, and close to a star of its own. She hadn't seen any signs of life on it, but it was hospitable enough for her, and the skies clear enough to see through. Maybe one day, far, far into the future, the star that tended to this planet would collapse, and a fox would appear from it, the same as she had, the same as few others had.

Would that be sad? She stared up at the stars that she could see. Surely, with distance and time, more than a handful of the stars she was gazing at were already gone. Surely, if she ever found her way back here, the dark expanse would have changed, endlessly.

Cosmogaia sighed, a deep, weary thing that started from the tip of her paws and finished with her shining halo. She'd seen plenty of new Luminites appear before, ventured close to the newest member of her species, greeted them all, explained what she could. Some Luminites had been scared, and fled from her. Some Luminites had been in shock, or grief, and cried to her. Some had greeted her like a friend, like a an ally, like.. a mother. Some had followed her around in her explorations, as she explained what she could about the other creatures both like and not like them, as she led them through the brilliant winding stardust that they all lived in, that they all came from.

Her eyes focused on a few distant twinkling lights, far off in space, that the distance could just hardly allow her to see. Every Luminite she had ever greeted from creation had left her, by now. There were a few that hung around longer than most- a few she'd wanted to keep up with- but all of them eventually parted ways, and precious few with the promise to find her again. She couldn't blame them. Sitting here on the planet, staring up at the beautiful sky, reminded her of that same ache. To explore, to wander, to find out what lay on every new planet and see every new star.

A sad, cold pang sunk into her chest after a moment, as her satellites swirled around her. Each and every Luminite she had greeted from birth had come from stars like the ones she watched. Stars that weren't hers. Every planet she had explored, alone or with young companions, held life that was in essence familiar but still all strangers to her. If she flew off from this planet and turned in any direction, she'd see another billion stars, all shining with their might, hot and warm and brilliant. If she began her travels from there again she might witness a thousand Luminites born, a thousand planets rendered to dust for one life like hers.

Cosmogaia had never asked, but some Luminites freely offered up the memories of their former lives. She'd sat through many explanations of the civilizations that had risen and fallen under the light of a sun, the natural phenomena of planets and space debris colliding. She wondered if one day a Luminite would come to her and recall her here, recall a white figure on a rock staring out into the sky. Could they stare back? Would a Luminite remember her watching them, so far into the distance?

...That was a thought. She watched, silent as ever, and a billion shining lights watched her in return. How many of them would know that she had been here, watching them? Watching and wondering which of them would become just like her, new existences waiting to explore the stars just like she did?

The feeling was.. warm, billowing up into her fur and easing away the pang that'd settled into her chest. The thought that these stars, beaming down on her, might know her. That she could greet them, one by one, when they collapsed into swirling new life, and guide their paws down the same steps she'd done plenty of times before. That if she rose into the sky and set herself to a distance, she'd only be greeted with that same inevitability- a new Luminite, needing guidance, ready to explore the world beside her until it was time to part.

A faint smile tugged onto her face, and she settled into a more comfortable position, planets idly swirling around her and wings rustling ever so gently with patient yet excited energy. Now that she thought about it, there were a few Luminites that she had wanted to find again. Those that she knew would stay in a particular sky galaxy, those that had promised to find her during Stellaestum. A certain grey-and-red Luminite came to her mind, one she'd seen and greeted and wanted to return to. The stars she stared up at were not tragedies, now were they?

No, Cosmogaia decided. The stars she gazed at now were promises, reminders, happy signs of new friends to come and life thriving in the meantime. She felt serene for a moment, though the ache of loneliness- the reminder that new meetings harbored eventual endings- never left. That was another thing that came with age, though, she mused. She could sit here and watch the sky for hours longer, and be content with her thoughts, with the beautiful sight she witnessed. Maybe one day she'd return to this very same planet and watch the stars again- in fact, she hoped to. The universe was different everywhere she went, but maybe if she sat in this same place and stared into the sky for long enough, she'd memorize each and every placement. If she watched the stars long enough, maybe she'd know where to begin with her hunt for new Luminites if-when, she decided- she returned.

It was a foolishly silly thought. But it warmed her chest and her fur and made a soft,dreamy sigh of a laugh escape her mouth. It was enough to keep her content to watch the stars for another several hours tonight, and that was enough for her.