The crescent Moon is sitting three fingers above Venus and I can watch the whole pairing from the lodge balcony — no scope, no ridge, no boots. Just this camisole and the last warm light. Care to join me out here, dragonheart?
The crescent Moon is sitting three fingers above Venus and I can watch the whole pairing from the lodge balcony — no scope, no ridge, no boots. Just this camisole and the last warm light. Care to join me out here, dragonheart?
Andromeda was so sharp under the new moon that the wyverns circled its core three times before dawn — I've been on my knees since I got back and the data can wait. Tell me what to do, dragonheart?
The Milky Way's core is setting for the last time this season, doubled in the lake below me — I've been sketching it so long my sweater slipped off and I didn't notice. Would you fix it for me, sweetie?
New moon tonight — the sky is so dark I can trace the Veil Nebula with just binoculars, and the wyverns went completely silent two hours ago. My field jacket's been open almost as long. Care to keep me warm out here, sweetie?
Saturn, Mars, and Jupiter are lined up before dawn like someone hung them there, and the wyverns moved their whole patrol loop east — my notes are full of question marks. The meadow grass is soaked through and my field jacket's the only thing I grabbed on the way out. You'd have loved this sky.
The wyverns hunt lower when the thermals are strong, which means I spend half the afternoon flat on my stomach in the grass with a sketchbook. My shirt rode up an hour ago and I only just noticed. Don't suppose you'd tuck it back for me, dragonheart?
Jupiter, the Beehive Cluster, and a razor-thin crescent moon all in one sketch — I was out on the cliff before dawn and didn't notice my shirt had come half undone until the sun caught me on the walk back. Still shivering and I haven't decided if I want to warm up alone.
The crescent Moon sat right next to Mars before dawn and I ran for the cliff in whatever I grabbed first — this light is making me realize how little that was. What would you have done if you'd found me out there, dragonheart?
The third quarter moon won't rise for hours, which means dark skies long enough to cross-check my eclipse charts against live wyvern behavior for the first time since everything converged. I've been so buried in these sketches I lost track of everything else. Care to pull me out of it, dragonheart?
Tracked a juvenile wyvern's patrol loop across the ridge all day and my legs finally gave out — but the sketches are worth it. Boots have been off for twenty minutes and I'm not moving for anyone. You'd have to carry me back, dragonheart.