Stand face to face with your god
The stars.
Yes, the stars.
The smile is uncharacteristically patient when she draws away, the corners of her mouth neatly tied up in a way that suggests that there’s something she’s not saying.
And there is.
There is so much she’s not saying.
“Yes,” she answers, acutely aware that Obelisk is not being purposefully obtuse. She shifts her weight and exhales a sigh that curls stardust around their heads. “The stars,” she echoes, quiet. Like a secret passed carelessly between them. And then she turns her gaze away again, fastens the reptilian eyes on nothing in particular, peering idly into the middle distance.
Nothing here but negative space and the heat that rolls off him in waves.
Nothing here at all.
She blinks once, slowly. And then turns her gaze up to the great swath of sky above them. But the stars have all winked out by now, chased into hiding by the rising sun. She tilts her fine head then, contemplating.
“We belong there,” she tells them. All three of them. Sepulcher, too. “We do not belong here.” She turns to peer steadily at him again. “We will never belong here.”
