She spends more time outside than in, lately, drifting along the lakeshore or through the trees, a living ghost among so many others here at the ends of worlds. At night, the dark, dry-blood red of her gown seems nearly black, and the grey gauze veil over her hair and her lower face gleams coldly in the light of moon and stars. In the day, of
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He looks out into the stellar nursery and stares for a long moment.
"You asked me why I fight," he finally says, not looking at her. "Why I struggle against the darkness. This is why. I want to be a star. I want to be... beautiful."
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(fire to burn away the dark)
The blue-diamond brightness of her regard is focused completely on him, without even a flicker to spare for the nebula outside.
"To be beautiful," she murmurs, very softly. "And is it you think that you need be of light itself to have that?"
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"But oh, so lonely it does sound."
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"Perhaps it is that is why you visit that place, there at the ends of all worlds?" Blodwen suggests, quietly. "For there it is, to be sure, you can find others, even if not exactly like."
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"Should you?"
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Blodwen hesitates, for long, long seconds, studying him with almost unfathomable intensity in her diamond-bright regard before she says,
"... if it is that you are sure, Doctor; that you are certain you mean it, that you wish it so--"
"--then yes, I will." She smiles, a little. "For at least a while."
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"Oh yes," Blodwen agrees. "Let us do just that."
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