3 Winter, 513AV
Halin'a strolled down the street, enjoying the way the moonlight felt on his skin; there was a faint luminescence emanating from it, characteristic of his kind. He had heard himself referred as many things in the fifty-six years since he had fallen from Leth's domain: Fallen, Moon-Shifter, Moonie, Ethaefal-- that last seemed to be the "politically correct" term for a fallen child of Leth or Syna.
Halin'a missed his former home, but he had grown fond of his new one. After fity-six years in Syliras, however, Halin'a was curious about the changes in the home of his former life. Sometimes, Halin'a got flashes from that life; the life of a young human man who had drowned in the harbor of Zeltiva a long, long time ago. It seemed the city had grown, although recent disaster had struck it a few seasons ago.
Spotting an easy route up, Halin'a scaled a building, climbing out onto the roof. He liked being high up, liked being closer to Leth. While he had accepted his new life, he still missed his old sometimes, and when that mood hit, it was easier for him to be closer to Leth, even if it could never compare to how he had previously lived.
Settling in on the shingles, Halin'a pulled his knees to his chest, resting his arms on them, and his chin on his arms. "Leth," he murmured softly, closing his eyes. "I am lonely. I miss you, I miss my old life. I have grown to like this life, but it is no subsitute. Please, if you cannot do anything else, please help me to meet someone who appreciates you as I do."
The stars gave no sign of answering.