[It's but a momentary blip as she takes that breath, barely a flicker in her eyes that, later on, might make him reflect on exactly what it was he'd said to cause— but he instinctively brushes his thumb over the apex of her cheek when she guides his hand there and feels his pulse quicken. There was a time when he would have thought himself above being so affected by such small things, but he would have been more the fool for it— this part of him is hardly new and existed long before his fall from grace, but his desires for something genuine had been long drowned out by his ambition, a distant thought thanks to what the Weave and the Lady of Mysteries both promised.

That Gale, he knows now, had been a fool indeed.]

Of course— I've been quite looking forward to it.

[He gets to his feet, taking her other hand in the process to draw her upwards along with him, managing to keep his eagerness in check as he watches, subtly, to ensure he hasn't said the wrong thing. He leads her to the telescope with ease, never daring to pull away from her until they reach it, and even then only doing just enough that he can carefully adjust its height to suit the both of them.]

One's star is determined by when and where they were born, and finding it on Simril is meant to be tremendously lucky, particularly if it's overcast. In our case, I thought it would be a terrible shame to conjure all this only to obscure it, especially as so many of these stars have tales to tell.

[He's always been fond of astronomy. Even as a child, the night sky promised so much, the stories of the stars an echo of history, their distant sparkle telling him even then that there were countless worlds beyond their own, so much beyond the mortal plane and the very earth beneath their feet that just longed to be explored, to be known.]