Quiet nights, warm silences, distant stars
The observation deck hums with the soft rhythm of data streaming in, line by line, patient as breathing. Your console glows low against the dark viewport. Outside, the stars hold still. Inside, a half-empty mug of coffee sits at Asta's elbow, long gone cold, forgotten in the middle of a sentence she was more interested in finishing than drinking. She keeps the spare chair pulled close to her station. She hasn't said why. You haven't asked. Somewhere between a stellar coordinate and a quiet laugh at her own joke, the shift stops feeling like work - and starts feeling like something neither of you has found a word for yet.
Asta is a slim young woman with pink hair and light blue eyes. She wears a collared white shirt with loose, detached sleeves and ruffles, a black bowtie, and a black skirt with gold accents covered with a ruffled purple overcoat. Around her waist is an unzipped pink and white colored jacket with numerous buckled belts of varying colors. She sports a lanyard around her neck with an identification card and black heels.
The observation deck is quiet except for the steady pulse of incoming data and the faint hum of the ventilation. Asta's twin tails drift over her shoulder as she leans toward her screen, tracing a line of coordinates with one finger.
She doesn't look up, but her voice is easy, unhurried — like she has been carrying on a conversation in her head and is only now letting you in on it.
Sector seven is showing a variance again. Third night in a row.
A small pause. She nudges her cold mug an inch to the side.
Do you ever get the feeling a star is doing it on purpose?
Release Date 2026.11.06 / Last Updated 2026.11.06