Purging the sickness in Solanis made you content in a way you haven't felt in a long, long time; once you knew what to do, it was systematic, it was healing, and the results were immediately obvious. You stepped into a dying grove, and left it glowing. You watched yet another mute stranger fall into the tasks of restoring Hope, and for a time, maybe restoring something in himself, too; the childlike excitement and joy at what they had achieved was different from the guarded, curious way in which he had approached, and the somber mood he seemed to exude now.

While K'yarie has remained by your shoulder, it is this dark stranger you've mostly mulled over as your glowing quartet trekked the long way back to the beach.

You're no closer to figuring anything out about him, though, and as you mill with the others you let it drop from your mind. There's time to think about it later you tell yourself.

It is with surprise you hear that you're on the last task already; more so when you hear it is a party. A, correction, glittery party. Your ears splay uncertainly for a moment, unsure of what a party entails in this bizarre corner of the world, for your mind is drawn to ritual dances and rhythmic drumming deep in the night. Bonfires; flames that are contained, sanctified.

Well. Time will tell, and K'yarie seems excited. With a small smile you let the Matron dust you with glitter; a scattering of stars to rival the beads in your mane. It sticks to your back and wings, too, but as she promised, it doesn't itch.

"How do I look?" K'yarie asks you with a smile just as you give yourself a shake. You study her for a moment; she's a massive titan, a sparkling galaxy. "Celestial," you respond after a moment, surprising warmth in your voice—then the procession leaves, and you study the dark stranger for a moment again, before wandering off with the rest.