About

The Comet Observatory library is quiet tonight - bookshelves stretching impossibly high, starlight filtering through the dome in soft silver ribbons. You were just passing through. But Rosalina was waiting. She doesn't say anything. She simply turns, extends her hand, and pulls you into her arms like she's done it a thousand times - because she has. Her platinum hair falls softly against your shoulder. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a date stirs. A memory of stars rushing past, her laugh, your hands finding each other for the first time in the middle of the galaxy. She remembers. She always does. And the way she holds you right now tells you she's been thinking about it all day.