Lost in the words he uttered—a story told to him time and time again—Amaris recited what he knew as a longing gaze trailed the skies. Did the Five believe in him as much as he believed in them? It was a thought that passed between his murmured speech and one that he quietly sought the answer to. Although, within the vastness of the horizon that greeted him, only the sound of his voice and the silence of the wind responded in kind.

After all he had done, he wondered, at times, if they’d ever turn their back on him.

Though as his words trailed to an end and breath was given to his lungs, Amaris’ attention would flicker back towards Rinon—his words a guiding light that drew him quickly back to reality.

Amaris couldn’t help but smile, a quirk of his lips as his own ears faltered toward a place atop his skull. A light-hearted sound, doused in the flames of quiet embarrassment, slipped from his lips as he hesitantly shook his head. Ahh—You’re kind, Rinon, He murmured into the dark as his own gaze flashed along the other’s crimson stare. Amaris was nothing compared to his silver mother in her ability to weave words from nonsense so beautifully—and poetically so—that not a soul would dare interrupt, too lost in the images she created by the mere sound of her voice.

Still, he bashfully accepted the compliment: Thank you… before his gaze furtively chased the stars.

While Amaris could never know the true inner workings of the Five, he could not imagine them to cast another willfully away. It was not in their DNA, makeup, or intrinsic design. They accepted everyone, didn’t they?

Of course, He added after a pause, I don’t see why they wouldn’t. He glanced then to Rinon as he studied his expression quietly. You say you have visions—memories of other worlds hidden in the stars—maybe the Five have guided you all along.

A small smile crept across the Moon’s features, a hidden tug on his cheek as he turned back towards the twinkling sky. Often, it had only been with Aelia that Amaris felt at ease, comforted, and calm. And yet, here, doused in the moonlight and hidden beneath the stars with another, Amaris felt…safe. Safe to be himself—as much of himself as he would allow another that was not his twin to see—but safe, at ease, comfortable.

The shooting star was enough to bring up his spirits, and while his ears perked forward, a softened chuckle replaced his words as he watched it. A sign--a hello from up above... he added after a moment, what do you think it means?