Dyssia flies up the tree, chasing the sunset. 

It's not that she wants to hold onto it, you understand. It's just that the moment is so beautiful, it seems a shame not to revel in it--to ride it higher, dance in the oranges and pings and the unexpected greens. And dance she does, darting through the lights like her own ribbon of purple blue.

Gaia has fantastic trees, by the by--just the right level of roughness on her scales as she rests afterwards, woven between the branches like a windblown scarf, and surrounded by stars on all sides.

… Is it weird?

I mean… It'd be so easy to… To feel small, like this. Lonely, somehow, amidst a sea of light. To look at the endless skies--they're so [i]dark[/i] compared to what she's used to--and feel cut off.

It [i]is[/i] weird. But mostly because she remembers being--maybe still is, a little--the girl who wanted to see everything, touch everything, pull every lever, back when she heard stories about the outside. Who looked up at a sky full of far more than here.

And she doesn't feel-- 

She feels [i]full.[/i] At peace. Connected, somehow, with everything--there are stars out there, and a girl down here, and they are the same thing. 

…

What was that about a hot springs?