Archive of Our Own ^beta

"You never liked playing an instrument, did you?" Gabbro says. They pause their flute playing to look at Azurite.

The younger traveler examines the lyre in their hands and holds it close. If they admitted they hate this instrument, would they be insulting the creator Gneiss? As much as they loved Gneiss, as much as they loved learning new things, having an instrument never really stuck with them. It’s one thing to haul equipment around in space, but only carry an instrument? That was silly. Sure, they would listen to the other astronauts in space, where an imaginary metronome united them for one unified harmony, and it would comfort Azu. They aren't alone in space. Although they are alone in a completely different aspect now.

"It's complicated, I guess," Azu says, tracing a gloved finger along the wooden carvings. Gneiss even carved out their own name on the instrument to make sure that the Hearthian wouldn't lose it. Not that they would be able to lose it anyways. They always had it near the campfire under the stars where Slate would wait for them to wake up and see their brand new spaceship go into orbit. 

"I don't dislike it." Azu plucks one of the strings on the lyre and it rings out at 440 Hz. Their specialization is in audio and acoustics. They love sound and music, but learning an entirely new instrument isn't what they signed up for.

"Hornfels told me to take up something," Azu says. "And at that time, I just wanted to take anything. Anything to get them off my back. I didn't think too much about it." They graze their fingertips along the strings. The museum curator gave them a couple of choices. Unfortunately, no one would let Azu take the kazoo even if they asked Gneiss personally. They did it in one of the loops to see if the craftsperson would let them. Gneiss never did. 

"Huh, really?" Gabbro leans back on their hammock and twirls their flute. "I guess I also didn't choose to have this instrument, but I've always had this flute with me." They raise the instrument towards the sky.

"I don't think I remember a time where you haven't had that thing," Azu says.

Gabbro chuckles. They trace their finger along the flute's divots on the top. "Yeah, me too." Then they shift their head as if considering something. "Actually, I do." There's something in the change of Gabbro's stance that Azu can’t put a finger on.

"Oh, do you now?" Azu says.

"It was a gift from Feldspar," Gabbro says, their voice above a whisper.

Azu's teasing words die on their tongue.

Feldspar... Azu found the veteran pilot all the way in Dark Bramble a couple loops back. They were joking with Gabbro and finding ways to calm themselves whenever they saw these anglerfish. Gabbro told them to take deep breaths and journey into other places that loop. And then, those loops turned into a couple months. Well, Azurite stopped counting the loops a long time ago. 

However, the younger astronaut was able to find Feldspar in an anglerfish skeleton only to hear that they were taking a break and enjoying the peace and quiet that came from being stuck in Dark Bramble. If Azu weren't squinting, then they wouldn't have noticed the bugs in Feldspar's cans and goods. Not all of them, but Feldspar's supplies were dwindling. Not like Azurite could do anything about it, Feldspar called them a hatchling and underestimated the amount of work Azurite did to get there at every moment. Feldspar seemed so unbeknownst of the sadness they brought unto Timber Hearth, and Azu was split between giving the veteran astronaut a piece of their mind or peace of mind.

Well, there was only so much an explorer can do within twenty-two minutes, so Azu stayed near Feldspar's campfire and roasted marshmallows with words unbidden on their tongue.

When Feldspar disappeared from Timber Hearth, their last communication with Outer Wilds Ventures was about Giant's Deep and what they had discovered. It was only discussed among those working closely within the association. Azu was barely getting through all these little nuances with their zero gravity training at the time. That was Feldspar's last communication, and the weeks coming after led the group into shambles. The more experienced trainees such as Chert, Riebeck, and Gabbro had their lives turned upside down. Feldspar was... is...? Feldspar is one of the greatest astronauts in Outer Wilds Ventures, and they are the headliner for many of the ventures' discoveries. Their disappearance from Timber Hearth reverberated after the months of no communications. Even if Outer Wilds Ventures didn't say anything, the village knew. Feldspar was no longer at the communal campfire listing off extravagant stories of their latest expeditions.

The village built a memorial in honor of Feldspar. It was a whole year since their last correspondence, and why should anyone wait so long for a person that no one knew was dead? It was easier to remember the good moments the veteran astronaut brought instead of the pain and suffering. The memorial stayed years before Azurite became a fully-fledged astronaut.

Yet the scars never left the Outer Wilds Ventures. Their safety procedures became more extensive to the point where Azu spent a whole year on the radios and communication modules. Chert's first solo launch got delayed a couple more months because they were so terrified of what happened to Feldspar and they couldn't logic their way out of leaving space. Hornfels mulled over charts, maps, anything they could get their hands on to predict the route Feldspar would've taken. Gossan's lessons became more of them trying to keep themself together while teaching Azu to stay steady. Slate's method of coping was to put themself into more projects, the more excitement the better. Riebeck's emotions were quiet, but the look on their face when they would look at the museum's Nomai ruins pulled Azurite's heartstrings. Gabbro was hard to read, preferring to take time for themself.

And Azu can see this now. Whenever they come to Giant's Deep, Gabbro's on the hammock playing their flute. Feldspar's disappearance transformed the whole path for Outer Wilds Ventures, Gabbro wasn't excluded. It made sense. After training sessions, they would cling unto the flute and play it whenever they had a chance. They still do it now. Whenever Azu couldn't hear the flute during these loops, they always expected the worst. They don't want to confirm their premonition. Gabbro didn't play the flute for a few loops when Azu told them about Feldspar. The younger traveler couldn't bear to check why Gabbro hasn't at least radioed them.

"I always wondered how it would turn out when we found Feldspar again," Gabbro says, resting their back against the hammock. "Would it be a huge party where everyone in the village would gather around the campfire and play instruments for a whole party? Would Feldspar get into the center of the village and hush everyone with their stories? Would I finally be able to show Feldspar everything I learned on the flute?"

"But it didn't turn out like that," Azu says.

"No, it didn't." Gabbro sighs. "I... never thought they wouldn’t want to come home. Or they would take their time to come home. They've been gone for years, and they haven't decided to at least contact Ground Control. No, they didn't try to contact Ground Control."

That is the kicker for Azu. They couldn't understand why Feldspar didn't want to contact Ground Control, or at least do anything about their current predicament. Nothing would be able to change the anglerfish skeleton situation within so little time, but Feldspar's ship seemed to at least have some functionality there. And for the veteran explorer to say they needed a break from all the fame and popularity as the center of attention…

Didn't Feldspar realize all the pain they caused the rest of Timber Hearth?

Gabbro takes a deep breath the same way they taught Azu. They rest their flute to their side and shrug. "Well, that's all past now. I guess there's nothing else we could do."

"I guess..." Azu pulls the lyre closer to their body.

Gabbro usually doesn't open up about their feelings. Whenever they go off on tangents, it's usually about how physics intertwine with life and how physics predicts the state of the universe. Sometimes, they would talk about how they work their quantum poetry into their everyday life, and how they would carve some words into the arches of Quantum Tower at the north pole of Giant's Deep. Other times, Gabbro goes far deep into philosophy that goes over Azu's head.

Otherwise, Gabbro always seems to stay in one place, laying on the hammock and taking in the cyclones and nature. And they are always content. Content isn't quite the right word, but faced with the end of the world, then what can anyone do? Whenever Azurite ends a break from the inevitability of the end of the world, they take deep breaths with the flautist and listen to the music. They don't really play much of their lyre instead of idly plucking their strings.

"Well, that's enough about me, time buddy. How about you? Did you really wanna take up the lyre?" Gabbro sits up from their hammock. 

Azu blinks. They will never get used to how quickly Gabbro can switch topics with a snap of their fingers. The lyre player fidgets with one of the tuning knobs and strums a chord. It sounds pretty, but whenever they played it never had any life that attracted them to music in the first place. It didn't have the spirit of when the former Outer Wilds Ventures trainees would gather around the fire and play their instruments.

"Gneiss wouldn't let me take the kazoo when it was right there on their counter," Azu says. Gneiss made that golden kazoo sparkle in broad daylight, how could Azu not be so lured in by this shiny instrument.

"Gneiss wouldn't let me take the kazoo either, trust me," Gabbro says. "I tried."

The two astronauts laugh and take in the weather of Giant's Deep. While time hasn't changed as it should, Azurite is glad that someone else could understand their current struggles. It's weird, they never really saw Gabbro eye-to-eye, that never gotten in the way of anything before. Nothing that ever caused animosity between them since it was more of a work ethics approach. However, Gabbro's calm presence grounds Azu and reassures them that they are no longer alone in these problems.

And Azurite wants to let Gabbro open up to them. To remind the older explorer that they are not alone. To remind them that they can talk to each other.

Azurite closes their eyes. "I never wanted to learn an instrument, even when Hornfels gave me a choice." They play the strings in a scale where the fourth note was out of place. "I couldn't just tell them that though. Gossan also wanted me to learn something, though they never said it out loud. Because all they had to do was pull out their signalscope to hear that it was me playing. I still haven't found a way to harmonize with the rest of the astronauts yet."

"Music isn't boring! I love music!" Azu says. "I love when the whole town dances or when everyone seems to play at the same time in the solar system." Azu rubs the back of their head. "But learning how to play is sooooo boring. It never sounds how I want it to."

"Do you know why?" Gabbro says.

"No, not really." Azurite hugs their knees towards their chest. "I didn't want to play a lyre. I wanted to sing, maybe even hum a little bit to the music everyone makes."

"I remember you used to sing a lot," Gabbro says.

"I really enjoy singing. More than playing this sad lyre. I want to sing again." Azu's grip on the instrument tightens, and their gaze goes to the waters in front of them. 

"Then why don't you?"

Then why? Then why don't they?

Because that one time Slate found Azurite humming to themself while working on a little engine at the workshop on Timber Hearth. It was their one little safe haven where no one would be looking at them, no one in the village would be able to find out them. And while, Slate didn't mean anything wrong, their words were always slightly abrasive. Azu would work with Slate on the physical components on the project. It was always fun, but sorting wires to see if any of the insulation was gone tired the astronaut much faster than anything else.

So they concluded to humming until they jumped out of the chair when they saw Slate crossing their arms against the doorframe. Azu held a wire in each of their hands, and they stared, waiting for Slate to make the next move.

"It sounded like a horn in here. I needed to check," Slate said before sitting right next to Azu and laughed a bit. "Your voice could use a little more work. It's rough. Didn't really need to hear it right now."

Azu didn't say any of the words that came into mind, just went back to focusing on the wires. Their vision was blurrier than usual and their breathing hitched, but that wasn't anything new they couldn't work with. Slate didn't mean anything wrong by it. Azu was sure of that. The engineer didn't mean anything by it. Azu needed a little more work on their voice, that's fine. Really, really. It should've been fine. It didn't feel fine.

Slate's words burned a hole of shame into their stomach.

The rest of that work session was in silence with only the sparks and static breaking the quiet.

After that, every time Azu went to an event and everyone was dancing and making music, the musical notes withered in their throats, no matter how much sound they wanted to make. The fear that everyone would judge consumed them. The fear that someone would make fun of them for making a peep for anything out-of-pitch. Something along the lines that Slate would say or maybe something even worse. Other Hearthians would ask them to join, even Azu's best friend told them to join. They couldn't bring themself to.

Slate didn't mean anything wrong by it. But why does Azu remember the feelings it caused so violently that their own stomach hurt? They looked up to Slate so much. They were smart and willing to teach them, but...

"You don't have to answer that question, you know." Gabbro's words shake Azurite from their mind.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Azu says. "Let's just say, something happened?" Okay, so much for opening up to Gabbro about their thoughts.

"Figures," Gabbro says. "But no one is really stopping you from doing what you enjoy. And we got all the time in the universe now."

"That's true."

"Do you have some good memories from singing at least?"

"Mhm."

As a hatchling, Azurite would sing their heart out. Whoever was taking care of the hatchlings at the time would have to deal with it, but usually they would clap along or even dance. Whatever came from their mouth probably didn't sound good, but why would anyone need to care when they're just a hatchling. Hal and Marl would join, and they'd become a small trio of young voices. After their makeshift choir, they would all laugh and talk about new songs they would make in the future like 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Comet" or "Row Down the Mines". It was anything they could come up with at the time.

That changed when Azurite started to trail behind some of the Outer Wilds Ventures members like Feldspar and begged them for their stories. Feldspar would always tell the most fantastical of stories, and Azurite knew this was the lifestyle they strived for. All of that pushed music and singing to the backburner. They didn't necessarily have a need for it in their training. It did provide the hatchling another creative outlet should they ever need it.

Azu found themself with Slate more often because that was where all the innovation happens. The sparks flew and the metal clanked.  The sounds of technology in their own hands. There was only so much that Azu could make by themself, but to have Slate teach them all about circuitry and how electricity works was even better. Slate had a mind of a genius, if a bit too self-absorbed with their projects to notice society around them. That didn't matter because Azu had so much fun learning. Slate wasn't the easiest Hearthian to be around, but they were straight to the point and supportive in their own way.

It wasn't long until Gossan and Hornfels realized Azurite was serious about becoming a space cadet. Azu was already working hard on a Nomai translator with their best friend. It only made sense for Outer Wilds Ventures to let Azu take a chance with their training. After that, Ventures became an integral part of their lifestyle. Azu wouldn't want a life where they weren't actively involved with adventures in space. Actually, except the one where the sun supernovas. That is unfortunately the life time they are in. They needed to make something, anything work right now.

As far as music went, Azu didn't have the time to put it into it. The incident with Slate happened way too quickly for them to process their feelings about it. Either way, Gneiss always asked when they would get their instrument. Most other Hearthians were waiting for Azurite to get an instrument so that they could start a jam session.  The space cadet always changed the topic at that point with a smile. If the village really wanted someone to play music, they had the rest of the travelers to do it. Stars, they even had Gneiss to play songs.

That was what Azu got for becoming a space cadet, and it just so happens all the astronauts had an instrument they would play.

Azu didn't want an instrument. They didn't want an instrument to become the forefront of their persona as a traveler. Music was a part of their life from when they were a hatchling, and they couldn't imagine a time where the ambiance wasn't making a symphony. So when they decided to stop singing in front of everyone else, the natural music in the world quieted and left a yearning in their heart.

They reached for anything music-related that wasn't them playing the instrument and clung onto it. If Riebeck were playing the banjo, Azu was there. If Chert wanted to create a beat, Azu would listen. As long as Azu didn't have to touch an instrument, then they would work with that.

That didn't stop their heart from aching and wanting to create sounds and songs. So Azu found opportunities. Moreso, these opportunities somehow found them.

There were a couple times Azu would make music in front of other Hearthians. It actually was with some of the astronauts. Not surprising considering that Chert, Riebeck, and Gabbro were all close in age and times in their training.

After long days of training, Riebeck would go into a grove and pluck some string on their banjo. Azurite kind of invited themself one time because Riebeck's playing was always light and gentle, similar to how they would talk. Then it became one of the few things they relied on when they needed a fix of music. They would sit behind one of the trees to listen until Riebeck would stand up and go back into the cabin to rest. Azu leaned against the tree trunk. Riebeck plucked the banjo strings one at a time, a slight scratch came up when they moved their fingers along the frets.

Then one of the strings made a discordant noise, jolting Azurite from their comfy resting place.

"Is- Is anyone there?" Riebeck says.

Azu shifted in their place. Should they go out and say hi? Or should they not say anything? The latter would be much easier for them to deal with, but no one should ignore Riebeck. It would be rude. Riebeck didn't deserve that.

Azurite peeked from behind their tree stump. They made eye contact with Riebeck.

"Oh, um! Hi, Azu! I didn't quite see you there," Riebeck said, gripping the banjo's neck. They tensed their posture and their eyes darted around the small grove. "How... how long have you been here?"

Azu bit their lip. "For a while now." How did Riebeck even see them over there? They were trying to make sure that the banjo player couldn't see them at all.

"Huh?! I d-didn't realize!" Riebeck tapped their foot on the ground in quick succession. "Was I bothering you? Oh stars, I hope I wasn't bothering you."

Laughter bubbled from Azu's chest.  "Don't worry at all, you never did, Riebeck."

Riebeck took a big breath and went back to their comfortable slouching position. "O-Okay, so, what brings you here, Azu?” They tensed up. “Not that you're not allowed here! Anyone can be here! Um, I've just never seen you here?"

Azu averted their gaze. "I wanted to go outside. Gossan had me in the zero-g cave for far too long today, and I missed the fresh air."

"Oh yeah, I get that," Riebeck said. "Being in that cave gets me so dizzy, I might throw up. I don't want to go, go back tomorrow." They widened their eyes. "Um, don't tell Gossan I said that."

"I won't, Riebeck," Azu said.

The two space cadets stared at each other, an awkward air surrounding them. Well, there went Azurite's fix of music for the day.

 Azu took a few steps back, pointing in the direction of the trainee cabin. "I can... go. Do you want me to go?" There was a lump in their throat. Their hands trembled.

Riebeck waved their hand, "Oh! No, no! I'd like the company, really." They motioned to the floor next to the tree stump they were on. "Sit anywhere, um, there's so much space here."

"Okay." Azurite walked over and sat down near the tree stump. They fidgeted with their hands and glanced back at Riebeck multiple times.

Neither of them said anything to each other for a time. And if this situation became more awkward, Azurite might leave and bash their head against a pine tree multiple times. They two trainees stayed in the grove in silence.

That was until Riebeck started tentatively picking at a string and the sound resounded in the grove. The delightful twang made Azu's heart flutter. Riebeck slowly picked at one string at a time, ascending the musical scale before descending those same notes. They gradually became faster until the technical scales turned into the older trainee strumming chords as they tapped their foot. The harmonious chord rang out, mixing with the natural ambience of the forest. 

Then a pause.

"Were you humming earlier?" Riebeck said.

Did they? A strangled noise came out of Azu. Stars, did they not pay attention to what they were doing? Was that why Riebeck found them so quickly? Before Azu could stop themself, they buried their face in their hands. Their face burned up. Riebeck played well, and getting lost in Riebeck's musical ability was easy.

"Um," Riebeck said.

Were they going to comment on how bad their voice was? Was it the same way that Slate would comment on unsavory sounds? Azurite pressed their hands against their face. Would Riebeck say anything bad? Riebeck wasn't that type of person, right?

"I thought it sounded pretty." Riebeck's voice was barely above a whisper.

Azu whipped their head faster than putting full throttle on their jetpack in zero gravity. "What?"

Riebeck jolted backwards. "You have a pretty voice, Azu."

Azurite opened their mouth and then closed it.

"I don't think I heard you sing in a long time," Riebeck said. "I mean, it's fine if, you know, you don't like to. The last time I heard you hum or sing was... when we were hatchlings?" They tapped their hand against the neck of the banjo. "Wow, um, that was a long time ago now, huh?"

"Yeah, it was," Azurite said. They hugged their knees against their chest.

"It's, it's nice to hear it again," Riebeck said. "I've always wanted to play with a singer or something like that. Um, Esker doesn't come down too often, so there aren't many opportunities to do that."

A moment passed between them. Riebeck's hands flitted along the banjo's strings.

"Azu, what if we played together?" Riebeck said. "You can, um, totally say no, it's no worries."

Azu blanked. That wasn't what they were expecting out of Riebeck's mouth. Actually, they weren't expecting anything that Riebeck came out of their mouth. This skilled banjo player wanted to make music with Azu. Riebeck who played music to calm themself down or performed riffs on these strings without any trouble.

"Uh, um, yes! I'd like to!" Azurite said, their voice going higher in pitch with each word.

Riebeck rubbed the back of their neck. "I ask that, but I don't have anything off the top of my mind to play. Do you have anything you want to sing? I can make the chords as I go."

Azurite, as someone who hadn't participated in any of their village's music for so long, shook their head.

"No worries!" Riebeck said. They plucked a couple strings on their banjo, every next one more tentative than the previous one. They closed their eyes to listen closer to these notes. Ascending, descending, a major, a minor chord. Then there was a chord that was discordant with the rest of the musical key. "I have this one song I've been working on. It's simpler than the Traveler's song Esker talked about. I have the chords, but I've been looking for a melody."

"How are you gonna find the melody?" Azurite tilted their head.

"Well, that's why I'm asking you," Riebeck said. "You've made songs before, right?"

Right, as in songs that would make the rest of the hatchlings laugh or give Slate a migraine. Azurite didn't say that and chose to nod instead.

"Okay! So here's this song. I chose to put it in the major key because I wanted it to be happy." Riebeck strummed two bright chords in succession. Then they played two notes repeating in the same key as the previous chords. "But then it sounded too much like the song Esker mentioned, so I went with just the block chords."

Azurite nodded slowly. Sure, they totally knew what Riebeck was talking about.

"Actually, would it be easier if I just strummed something and you sang along? It's hard to explain with words," Riebeck said.

"Sure."

Riebeck took a bring inhale and closed their eyes. They strummed chords to the beat of their tapping foot. It wasn't fast nor was it too slow. They played the four chords in the same pattern, looping it every time they went back to the start of the sequence. The harmonious sound rang out in this homey grove. They kept going as if in a trance, or Riebeck could be waiting for Azurite to finally join.

Oh yeah, Riebeck was probably waiting for Azu to join them.

Azu let out a huff of air and tapped the same pulse Riebeck did with their foot. Their breath hitched in their throat, and they thought they were going to choke. They didn't eat anything, and no one choked on air in Timber Hearth. That was a problem for when Azu went up in space. The younger trainee tapped the rhythm against their chest as if it would slow their racing heart.

Riebeck was counting them. Riebeck trusted Azurite to at least try something. That was what Riebeck did everyday. No one expected the history buff who feared the dark or anything dangerous to go out in space. They braved all their doubts and fears and went against the status quo that everyone put on them. Riebeck was always the brave one.

Azurite had to take a page from their book.

They drummed the nervous energy through their fingers into the ground until they could control themself to find the pulse Riebeck was on. Azurite closed their eyes. Riebeck's playing reminded them of the break of dawn, light and soft. Riebeck pressure on the strings remained constant, not making the sound any louder than it needed to be.

What would be the best way to duet with Riebeck?

Azurite hummed one of the notes in the current chord Riebeck played. They held that note as long as they needed to before the next chord made the humming dissonant. Then, they switched notes. This continued for a while until Azurite found an ascending melody, going up the major triad, then up to the tonic of the chord, then the leading note. They jumped through the different notes until they found a melody they hummed through the multiple iterations of the chords in the same sequence.

When Riebeck held out the last chord after who knows how long, Azurite trilled the last two notes at the very end and then held it out until they ran out of air. The trainees' sounds echoed through the trees with only the creatures being able to listen. The song burrowed itself deep within Azu and Riebeck. It was only the two of them here, and this was their song.

Riebeck smiled and laughed. "That was so much fun, Azu!" They held their banjo close while leaning close to the other space cadet. "We need to do that again! We should do that again!"

Azurite couldn't contain their mirth. "We should! We definitely should!" They hopped up and couldn't stop their grinning.

Riebeck looked up and their expression turned thoughtful. "We spent all this time playing music, huh?"

The moon was up in the sky. The sun set hours ago at this point. The moon was so pretty. Azurite rubbed their eyes. They'd probably been here for too long at this point.

"Wait." Riebeck shot up, eyes widened. "Don't we have training early in the morning tomorrow?"

Stars!

Azu tensed. "We do!" Azurite started racing towards the space cadets' shared cabin. "Gossan's going to have me at stake tomorrow!"

Riebeck ran behind Azu with their banjo held close to their chest. "Oh no, oh goodness, we're gonna... oh I'm gonna get so sick tomorrow."

"Don't think about it!" Azurite said. "We'll be fine! We should be!"

"Should?!"

The two sprinted back to the cabin, huffing and puffing when they reached the door. The other trainees were probably sleeping at this point so these two didn't want to wake them up. Azurite patted Riebeck's back and smiled.

Riebeck reciprocated with a tired smile. "Let's do that again soon," Riebeck said through labored breaths as they leaned over themself.

The next day's training was probably the worst Riebeck and Azurite ever did. And if it weren't the worst, it was one of them. At least, they were in it together. Their coach really put them through the wringer, and how was the zero-g cave spinning this fast? That wasn't good. They bumped into walls, machines, into each other, but the exhausted trainees survived in the end.

After that, Azu found themself next to Riebeck in the little grove after long training days. Sometimes they would make small talk about what happened today or other discoveries they made with their training such as what sounds the Nomai would've made to how shorting a nine volt battery could start a fire. Most times, they would take a breath and enjoy the music from the wind, the banjo, and hum. The rest of the Outer Wilds Ventures didn't need to know what they were doing in the grove. This was their own time for themselves.

Yet, Azu found another time to share musical moments with another space cadet.

Another time, Chert and Azu were so focused on parsing through the star charts and learning about the different planets' orbits. The knowledge engrossed them, enticed the two space cadets to take to the stars. They talked day and night about the calculations and other miscellaneous processes to identify the best course of action to examine these astral bodies. Chert had a much better grasp on all things astronomic than Azurite ever could, but it was nice to see the older trainee ramble on about stars, the solar system, and how small Timber Hearth's perceived world was. Chert loved anything that had to do with the stars. It was no wonder they would become an astronaut. Everyone in the village knew that this would be Chert's calling.

Every so often, Chert splayed all their current copies of star charts on the table of the Observatory. Every so often, they would look through the telescope, adjusting the angle and knobs and marking observations they made on the stars.

All Azurite was doing that night was making sure Chert's notes were at least eligible. This wasn't the first time Chert was doing something like this, and it was either Riebeck or Gabbro who would help them out usually. Hornfels always encouraged the trainees to learn from the stars together in team exercises. However, Riebeck got terrible motion sickness that day, and Gabbro probably needed a break from acting as Chert's proofreader for the past weeks. So this job fell on Azu.

The task wasn't all too bad. Chert's writing was immaculate, despite how it would drift down the line every so often. They made quick notes, going back-and-forth from the papers to the telescope. Honestly, Chert probably didn't need anyone helping them with their observations, but Azu found it nice to listen to Chert's thoughts, whether it would be rambling or new discoveries through the telescope.

It was a quiet night at the Observatory anyways, so Chert's nonstop words kept Azurite from falling asleep and drooling on these charts. No one else would be visiting the Observatory at this time. Well, maybe Gabbro, but that was because they had a different sleep schedule from the rest of the village. Otherwise, it would be only Chert and Azu tonight, and that was fine with them.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Except that Chert would not stop the repetitive tapping against the table. When the astronomer couldn't find the right words to put onto the papers, they would tap the pencil too frequently. Azurite almost took the pencil from Chert, which no, Azu shouldn't do it at all. It was so late, and they couldn't even see what was outside. They just wanted to hear the pencil lightly scratching against the paper and not the strong percussive noise.

Azu pressed their head against the cool to refrain from pulling their ears with their hands. Chert was too engrossed in their research to see the other's anguish until their tapping with no rhyme or reason turned into a steady pulse, and then they subdivided that pulse. From there, they returned to that balanced beat with different percussive flourishes throughout the pattern.

Azu no longer yearned to tear their own ears out.

Then there was a pause in the rhythm and a pencil scratching on paper. "You could break down a rhythm into a mathematical equation," Chert said.

 Azu raised their head to look at Chert.

Chert pressed the pencil against their chin, looking at the mathematical calculations and measurements they made tonight. "I wonder... You know how sound transmits through waves, right? With percussive sounds such as drums or cymbals, maybe they could travel longer?"

"Through acoustics?" Azu said.

"Yes, but space is a vacuum, so that sound dies out. We have our signalscopes to capture those waves. I wonder if other beings have music like us and if we can capture those." Chert said.

Huh, Azurite never thought about this, and their focus was more on the sound side for engineering projects with Slate. "Like what the Nomai's music would've sounded like?"

"Yeah! Just like that!" Chert slammed their pencil on the table, rattling the legs and tousling some of the papers. "Oops..." They picked up some of the charts on the ground. "Anyways, if we were to find these inhabitants, would they have the same rules of music we do?"

"Music has rules?"

"Well, not quite like that." Chert went off to the side and pulled their drum from the ground. They brought it over to the table and hit their hand on the drum's head. Luckily, no one was here in the Observatory tonight. The loud sound would have woken someone up. Chert lowered the force of their hits to create a quieter beat, steady and slow.

"When we make music, one of the foundations would be the rhythm. You could have just the pitch and the sound, but if you don't have the rhythm, it might as well just be what it is. Sound.” They accented the last word with a bang of the drum. 

“While it's not technically necessary, it is a strong argument as to why a phrase of various sounds constitutes as music. One of our main rhythms would have four main pulses with the first strike the strongest and the rest softer than the first." Chert created an example of what they said with the strikes on their drum.

"I didn't expect you to have a philosophical talk in the middle of the night like Gabbro," Azurite said, crossing their arms.

Chert laughed and quieted their playing. "That's one way to put it. I've been looking at the stars for so long at this point. I'm wondering if any of these astral planets share our same feelings for music. They're so far from us, but we all share the same sky. What would make our music different from theirs? Do they even have music?"

"That's a good point," Azurite said.

"I talked to Riebeck about the possibility of Nomai music. They said a lot of Nomai scripts were written as if there were regular conversations. Something like... branching paths for certain responses. With how they communicated, it's like they didn't need ears that much! Would they leave recordings of sounds they might have? Stars above, we don't even know what they sound like." Chert said.

Azurite hummed. What would the Nomai have sounded like? They only had records and ruins of these old creatures. These weren't thoughts that would have gone through their head. They enjoyed sound, and that was what they had an emphasis on. It was more on the side of how these soundwaves traveled. The Nomai might've found a way to allow sound to travel far distances! There were so many things to discover in outer space.

"Why don't we make a rhythm right now?" Chert sat next to Azu and placed the drum between them.

"Right now?" Azu said, staring at the drum then at Chert. They had never touched a drum in their life. No, they had touched a drum, just not Chert's drum. An astronaut's instrument was essentially an extension of their person. Chert, Riebeck, and Gabbro would not be seen without their instrument unless they were working on something sensitive that would damage their instrument.

To have Chert offer Azurite to play their drum astonished them. A part of Azu wanted to reject the notion of playing any instrument, to have a musical flair in any other moment that wasn't something they could claim for themself.

"We've been making observations for hours now. Don't think I didn't notice you getting bored." Chert said. They hit the drum and gestured for Azu to do the same.

Chert had good examination skills. If Azurite had to check for any more errors in their notes, they would've fallen asleep on top of these papers. They hesitated for a moment. What if... no, there was no what if. Azurite followed Chert's example.

"Good!" Chert said. Then they played another rhythm. Two bops on the head of the drum and two taps on the side. After that, Chert kept alternating and then gestured Azu to continue.

Azu noted the rhythm with the bounce of their head and then copied Chert's pattern. It took a little bit for them to get it with an odd sound here or there, but they got the general gist of the rhythm Chert was going for. They pursed their lips whenever the pattern got too complicated and they wanted to stop. They couldn't because Chert was expecting them to at least try.

So try they shall.

Chert nodded in approval. "Yes! That was good! If Hornfels asks you to take up an instrument, maybe you could ask for a drum."

"A drum?" Azurite tilted their head. Sure, they did have fun playing Chert's instrument, but there wasn't a connection that urged them to keep going. "Honestly, I don't think that it's for me."

"Really?" Chert rested a hand on their chin. "I think you're a natural."

Chert could be really nice, or they could be lying. Azurite struggled to put in the little ornamentals between the constant beat, and whenever they did, they would slow down the entire song, which wasn't the right way to keep the rhythm.

"I mean it,”  Chert said. “I don't mean it as in 'you're perfect at this instrument already'."

Azu snorted.

"If you practiced it a little more, I think you'd get a better grasp on it," Chert said. "Everyone needs to practice to get better." They motion towards all the calculations and writing they made on the star charts. "I wouldn't have gotten this good if I didn't bother Hornfels or Esker to help me understand what I'm doing." Their eyes gazed at their drum. "In the same vein, I wouldn't have gotten this good with drums without Gneiss teaching me."

Gneiss, as the resident music instructor, would teach the hatchlings how to play various instruments. They would bring all sorts of instruments for the hatchlings to play around with. By the end of the week, they would have an army of hatchlings playing miscellaneous instruments. Did the group sound good? No. They probably didn't have any rhythm or pitch. Was everyone having fun? Yes. That was what Gneiss aimed for.

During one of these sessions, Chert became attached to the drum the older musician brought. Whenever they weren't with the rest of the hatchlings, Chert would be finding a new pattern to play on it. Azurite didn't remember too much about it because Chert was older than they were. Chert left the hatchling cabin before Azu had a chance to make a more meaningful connection with them. 

However, Chert would be willing to invite other hatchlings to listen to the new rhythm they concocted. When they were playing, they were always in a zone with only one thing in mind. To keep the rhythm and to keep playing. Their musical prowess echoed in each room they played in. The only thing stopping them from going on for the whole day was when Porphy would call out dinner for the village. Even then, Chert would play this instrument at gatherings or other moments where people would ask the drummer to play. They would always do it with a smile. They were always the smartest one, and it was amazing how they kept up with everything on top of improving their drumming skills.

"Yeah, I tried all the instruments Gneiss pulled out as a hatchling," Azurite glanced at their hands. "I didn't feel a connection to any of them."

"That's okay too," Chert said. "I thought you'd pick an instrument by now."

"Really?"

"You enjoy music. You always did as a hatchling. You focused on the sounds," Chert said. "It wasn't just listening for the sake of enjoyment. You were listening for something else."

And what was Azu listening out for?

"Look, if you find yourself getting bored of writing down notes when it's just you and me, I can teach you how to play drums. Or if you don't want to play drums, how to keep a rhythm," Chert said. "Think of it as payment for helping me keep legible notes on these star charts."

Azu was at a loss for words. They looked at Chert. Chert gave them the most determined and sincere gaze. Chert was always willing to teach something they were interested in, and they were correct about Azurite enjoying music. Azurite nodded.

"Oh, great!" Chert grinned. "We can work on it next time." Chert picked up their drum and placed it to the side before returning to their seat near the telescope. "I still have a few more observations to go through." 

Azu buried their head into the table.

"Don't be like that, Azu," Chert said. "It should only be a little longer."

If a little longer meant the sun rose, then Chert was right. This was not something Azurite signed up for. Though there was something nice about the quietness of Timber Hearth without any of the hustle and bustle. There was the ringing of crickets and the chirping of birds. Then Azu closed their eyes to listen to the silence.

When Azurite woke up, they were still in the Observatory. And warm…? They tugged on the blanket on them. Where did this come from? The young trainee rubbed the sleepiness away from their eyes. The museum curator Hornfels greeted them with a good morning before going back to their work. Thank goodness because Azu did not want another member of the Ventures to see them like this.

They stretched and discovered that the table no longer had any star charts or any other papers except one. In Chert's neat handwriting, the note said, "Thank you, and I look forward to our late night sessions soon."

Azurite couldn't contain their smile.

Besides that, it was business as usual today. First things first, Azurite needed to get more sleep and fix their back pain from sleeping hunched over the table. Chert could've at least woken them up to get them in the cabin.

The trainee ended up hanging out with Chert more during and after training. They would talk about how the stars could have their own melodies or maybe create a symphony. Those weren't the only conversations they would have. Chert was smart, so Azu could go to them whenever they had a question in mind. The older space cadet would provide questions and examples to help with the understanding of a concept. In exchange, whenever Azu had the energy to go late nights in the Observatory and Gabbro or Riebeck weren't there, they would take up the opportunity to help Chert with their observations.

When there was a lull in examining measurements, Chert would bring out their drums and encourage Azurite to play. Chert still kept their drum closer to themself, but they were content to have Azu play it every so often if only to remove the monotony of the wind or the sound of crickets.

"Don't you ever wonder what songs stars would perform?" Chert removed their eye from the telescope lens. They adjusted it towards their companion and gestured for them to come over.

Azu, who had barely any energy to talk, trudged over, closed the left set of their eyes, and peered into the telescope. The stars lit up the dark sky, sprinkling every instance of darkness with a source of light. They adjusted the knobs in the same manner they saw Chert do it. One star showed a bright white with a tinge of blue. It seemed to sparkle.

"It's strange... We're all these light years away, and we're by no means any closer to managing deep space exploration. I can't help but wonder," Chert said. "We might have entirely different ways to communicate with each other. We might have the same music that unites us."

What do stars sound like?

From their sleep-addled brain, Azu pulled a melody they sang as a hatchling. It was one with switching between notes quickly and some long withheld notes. There wasn't any  consistent rhyme or pulse to keep the whole melody together. They weren't sure what they were humming, but stars were all different notes sending different frequencies from light years away. They didn't know what the stars held, but it would be a great dream to learn about all of them.

Chert hummed in thought when Azu finished their musical phrase.

Azu offered the telescope back to Chert and walked back to their comfy place on the table. They nestled themself under the blanket that Chert brought earlier.

Chert laughed. "We can talk about it another time." Chert turned the telescope's knobs and peered through the lenses. "Goodnight, Azu."

The rest of the night went in amicable silence. Chert didn't ask Azu to do much checking. Azu probably wasn't in the best state to write down anything in their sleepy stupor. Although Azu didn't have much energy to respond then, the astronomer presented a good point. The stars before them were a mystery. No one knew what they held. They had a general idea what elements composed them, but besides that nothing. The Outer Wilds Ventures' goal was to explore and explain the universe with the resources they had.

What a thing to discover for the future!

They still had to go through the training with the organization the next day, and the next. However, seeing other Hearthians made it more bearable.

Azurite had a long day toiling through the zero-g cave today. Gossan had them repair a satellite floating in there, and the amount of times Azu had knocked into it, resulting in these new bruises. The space cadet wanted to take the longest nap ever. No one's snoring would wake them up or any instrument playing. Nothing. They wanted the ache in their body to finally go away and drift off in the land of dreams.

Their dream shattered when they heard a voice.

"Why don'tcha look at that!" From the distance, an older voice called out. "Is that little Azu I see?"

A tall and older Hearthian waved Azurite over. Azurite's yearning for sleep diminished when they saw Esker's hat, and the smile they had. Azu's ears perked up, and they ran over to Esker. It had been a while since they last saw Esker. It must have been a year before Azurite joined Outer Wilds Ventures. While Feldspar had the most adventurous stories, Esker would talk about the beauty of each planet and how they create the symphony of the universe. Little Azu wanted to learn about the various intricacies in their shared universe. Now, big Azu wanted to seize that opportunity with their hands.

"Esker! What are you doing here?" Azurite said. "Hornfels didn't say anything about you coming down from the moon!" 

Esker shrugged with a smile. "This might just be a surprise visit." The older Hearthian examined Azurite with a nod. "Wow, you've gotten much bigger than last I saw you. You holding up fine? I know you're quite clumsy, but not this much."

Azu rolled their eyes.

Esker hadn't gotten any younger though. The wrinkles around their eyes are more pronounced, their bones were more noticeable, but they still had a spark in their step and looked up with pride. The body got older, but Esker's spirit never left.

"It's been a while since you came back home!" Azu bounced on one foot. "Gossan's been training me day after day for space. Some machinery is a little rough right now too, but I'm making progress. I'm making a lot of progress, Esker!" 

If there were anyone from Timber Hearth who could make Azu feel like a hatchling again, it would Esker. They would be able to bring back the wonderment in the mundane, weave in magical stories of menial events. While Feldspar could make an inferno for a campfire, Esker was a spark that would warm everything nearby.

"That's good to hear, hatchling," Esker said.

Azu leaned towards Esker. "Do you have any stories to tell? Any impressive discoveries on Attlerock? Anything you can say about any of our astronauts?"

Esker laid a placating hand on Azu's shoulder. "For you, I do. But first, I need to report some things to Hornfels and Gossan. Think you can wait for a bit then?"

Azurite nodded vigorously. They wouldn't be able to wait. They hadn't seen Esker in so long, but Azu was only a trainee at this moment. They wouldn't be allowed to hear all the confidential information yet. They had an idea that Gossan said that so that they would be more focused on the current matter in their hands. With that in mind, the conversation Ground Control will have with Esker would take hours. Not Azu's fault that there were so many things to learn. They hadn't seen Esker in so long!

The Hearthian chuckled and patted Azu's head. "Alright, it's a deal then. I'll see you at the campfire near the river then." Esker walked off into the museum.

Azu bounced. Azurite couldn't wait that long! The tiredness in their bones faded away when Esker said they had stories to tell. No one told good stories in so long! Hornfels tried, but their stories relied on the side of history and discoveries. Slate couldn't tell a story for the life of them. Gossan tried making their stories have a lesson. Spinel would give random tips on fishing. This? This was so different,

The space cadet didn't use the time between seeing Esker to when the moon rose for a break. No, they were bouncing around the village. Their best friend Hal could tell they were excited immediately, so they didn't coup their partner in crime in a room with only the Nomai translation in front of them. Spinel told Azu to not get too close lest they scare the fish away. Porphy took Azu's excess energy and had them prepare dinner for the hatchlings. This did help Azu calm down a bit and stop their bouncing. 

Once dinner was over, Azu found the small campfire along the river and added kindling to it. Hornfels must be holding Esker up. Was something going on with the stars? Azu looked up. Nope, the stars looked the same as before. The same as the star charts Chert would pour hours upon hours into them. They sure were pretty though.

Azu lit the kindling and let the sparks fly. The cackling of the flames started as a quiet symphony as it crescendoed. The crackling noises harmonized with the soft breeze. They pulled a log into the fire's range and sat down on it. The space cadet huddled close to the flames to fight off the cold.

Okay, Azu needed to wait for Esker to finish whatever they were doing. They got the roasting sticks, a cozy fire, some marshmallows. This was perfect for a night out in the stars! Esker wouldn't mind if they started roasting marshmallows already, would they?

The space cadet skewered a marshmallow with one of the sticks and hovered it over the open flame. They'd take forever to make a perfectly roasted marshmallow, but it was better than those heathens who would actively choose to burn their marshmallows! The flames licked at the sweet treat, turning it into a golden brown. Esker would be so impressed once Azu shows them how well their marshmallow roasting skills have gotten.

Azurite hummed a small tune, while holding the marshmallow above the fire. it wasn't anything complex from what Chert would've taught them or the improv they would do with Riebeck. It was something Esker taught them before the mechanic moved to the moon. The name of this song was 'Travelers', and it didn't have many difficult notes. It went up a chord, then down to create a melodious phrase. It repeated that pattern, only with a couple different notes with every phrase.

When a whistling tone doubled their tune, Azurite nearly dropped the roasting stick and marshmallow into the fire. Their throat seized up, and they stopped humming. The marshmallow caught on fire. They pulled the sweet treat towards themself and blew on it to extinguish the flames. It was no longer a sweet treat and now a bitter treat. It had a dark crust around the fluff.

"I didn't mean to surprise you, Azu," Esker said, taking a seat next to the trainee. "That's one of my favorite tunes to whistle."

Azurite frowned and glanced between Esker and the marshmallow. Then they shook their head with a slight smile and sighed. "Are you going to eat this marshmallow then?"

"I do believe that the person who burnt the marshmallow should eat the marshmallow," the old astronaut said.

Azu stuck their tongue out, removed the marshmallow from the stick, and then ate the bitter marshmallow. They had to fight the reaction to spit it out. It had a great texture, but it got so bitter!

Esker laughed. "You'll get used to the bitter taste when you're older."

Azurite swallowed the marshmallow then took a water bottle to chug all the liquid down.  They made a big gasp for breath. "I'm already old enough! I'm gonna go up to space soon!"

"Oh, how the time goes by so quickly," Esker said. "I remember when you were wee bit tall." They held out palm to below their shoulder. "Now, you're almost as tall as me. I can't believe how quickly you've grown, Azu. All the newer astronauts actually."

"See we've grown up, and we can discover all the universe together, Esker." Azu made a grandiose gesture by spreading out their arms.

"That we sure can, Azu. That we sure can," Esker said.

The two Hearthians sat in silence. Azu waited for Esker to start their story. In the meantime, Esker took the roasting stick that Azurite brought and placed a marshmallow on top of it. They roasted the marshmallow until it was a golden brown, and tilted the stick towards Azurite. Since the younger Hearthian didn't take the marshmallow, Esker nudged the marshmallow towards Azu until the young one took the sweet. Azu looked at the marshmallow before they ate it in one bite.

The marshmallow melted in their mouth.

"How do you make them taste so good?" Azu said.

Esker smiled and raised a finger on their own lips.

"What?! That's unfair!"

The two laughed around the fire, louder than the wind around them. They both had grins on their faces. Then Esker started roasting another marshmallow. Azurite followed in suit, copying the motions Esker did.

"It's nice to be with company again," Esker said.

"Is it lonely on the moon?" Azurite said.

Esker removed the marshmallow from the fire. It was a pale tan color, not done roasting on the fire yet. They stared into the fire and sighed. "A little. Some folks radio me every so often, but it's nice to be back on Timber Hearth. Although it's not the same as before."

"It's not?" Azu said.

Esker patted Azu on the head before resting their hands on their lap. "No, it's not. Things have changed very quickly, hatchling. Only a couple years ago, you've just joined Outer Wilds Ventures. It was a big discussion."

It was a big discussion because that was the time Feldspar disappeared. Those words hung in the air, but Esker never said them out loud.

"Timber Hearth barely looks any different from the far view on the moon. It looks like it hasn't changed except when the seasons change," Esker said. "Chert visits me once in a while, Riebeck has strong feelings about 'unnecessary spaceflight', and Gabbro is Gabbro, but none of them are on Timber Hearth every day anymore. I was half-expecting to see them today."

Esker raised the marshmallow back on the fire. "I was talking to Gossan earlier. They were telling me well you've been doing with training and your translator. They're very proud of you, hatchling. You helped them out of a void when they were going through rough moments. They were trying to come to terms that you're gearing up for your first solo launch in less than a year. They care about you lots."

"I can't help but think how much I've missed when I was on the moon," Esker said. "Time passes all the same on the moon and on Timber Hearth, but with no one to tell me what day it is or the seasons changing, I wait there for when astronauts need help with their ships. I should come down more often, just to say hi once in a while." Esker watched the spark dance into the sky.

"You should, Esker!" Azu said. "Marl would love to talk to you more! And-- and Porphy's looking for that... ugh, moon wine." They puckered their lips as they recalled the taste of sap wine. Moon wine could be a little better maybe. "We miss you here."

"And I miss you all too, Azu," Esker said, "But I have a job to do up on Attlerock, and I know I'm capable of doing it. The Ventures is counting on me." They tightened their grip on the marshmallow stick.

Azurite bit their lip. The prospect of Esker coming down to Timber Hearth was always so appealing. They don't come down that often, and when they do it's usually for official business. Due to Azu's schedule, these two became passing ships. The trainee had no idea when Esker would be coming down, nor Esker knew when Azu would be done with training or working for the day.

Esker shook their head and offered another roasted marshmallow to Azu, who pushed the stick back to Esker until the older Hearthian took it. "Now, don't mind the ramblings of an old Hearthian. I had a lot of time to think on Attlerock."

"You're not old, Esker," Azu said.

"Compared to you?" Esker said.

"You're not that old, Esker."

Esker chuckled and took a bite out of their freshly roasted marshmallow. "Whatever you say, hatchling."

The two Hearthians roasted marshmallows side-by-side. No one bothered them. No one told them to go to bed. It was a peaceful moment they shared after so long. Azu didn't need Esker to tell stories or discoveries. Saying that was an excuse to get Esker to stay longer, even if it were just a little while. They wanted the older Hearthian to celebrate the current moments with them. Esker would always be the ones to put bandages on Azu's knees whenever they fell or comfort them when they cried. Then they had to move to the moon, and those times drifted off into memory.

A whistle resounded in their little area near the river. Looking to their side, Esker started to whistle. It was the same tune Azu would hear when they picked up the signalscope, but it didn't have the static noise that came from capturing sound waves. This was an organic noise. Esker slowed down the tune's first three notes before picking up the rhythm and completing the small musical phrase.

Azurite could close their eyes and listen to this all night. Although they didn't do that, the older Hearthian nodded their head when Azu made eye contact. Esker didn't stop whistling. It was an open invitation. 

Azu didn't want to accept.

The young Hearthian gripped their stick, contemplating whether they should eat the hot marshmallow and let it their tongue or let Esker perform alone. This wasn't the first time Esker had done this. 

When Azurite had trouble sleeping as a hatchling, they would search for anyone awake at night. First they would check in the hatchling cabin, and every so often Hal or someone else would be awake. Though a lot of the time, the person taking care of them during the day made sure all the hatchlings were tuckered out. Azurite was tired, but not tired enough to sleep. They needed to do something, so they decided to go outside from the hatchling cabin which they've been told multiple times not to do in the dark.

They peered out into the night and found a lone campfire lit with an older Hearthian hunched over it. Esker, who the little hatchling only had the vaguest idea about, invited them to the campfire and asked them if they had trouble sleeping. Azu shook their head, but Esker knew better. The mechanic started whistling, and everything else on the planet went silent. The night went by in the blink of an eye. Azurite slept well that night.

Whenever Azu had trouble sleeping, they would try to see if Esker was awake. They would whistle, tell stories, roast marshmallows, anything to encourage Azurite to fall asleep. It worked almost every time. Then Esker had to go to the moon, and the hatchling couldn't turn to them whenever they needed to.

The space cadet blew on their marshmallow and nibbled on it. They glanced at Esker every once in a while. Esker leaned back, rested their hands on the log, and continued to whistle. This Hearthian had some much stamina when it came to whistling, but whenever they would make eye contact. It would invite Azurite to join this little melody.

Azurite sighed and hugged their knees to their chest. They did want to accept this invitation. They didn't want to stay silent. When they were younger, they would sing with Esker, and that was exactly what Esker was inviting them to do. They knew. They knew . And if they wouldn't sing, Esker would expect them to open up about one thing, any one thing, that would be bothering them.

It was bothering them that they were nervous to hum this rendition of 'Travelers'. It was an easy melody, anyone could capture and remember the phrases. This was one of the few traditions Esker and Azurite shared under the starry night skies. They couldn't leave Esker hanging.

Azurite swallowed the lump in their throat.

They reached for a note, pushing through against the dread.

And hummed.

Azu doubled the pitches and rhythm Esker had for this melody. If it went fast, then they both went fast, and the same would happen if it were slower. Azu's voice pitched lower than a piercing whistle, but it added a new depth to the melody. It wasn't the same as the other harmonies the other astronauts had. It wasn't the same as backing chords or choosing a new phrase to meld into it. It remained a simple song for the two to share.

Azu let go of the tenseness in their shoulders. They could've sworn they saw Esker's ears perk up.

The night resumed as the two Hearthians played 'Travelers', a moment perfect in time. It was like when Azurite couldn't sleep at night, and Esker would make a melody up or too to help Azu fall asleep. Where the only witnesses were the stars above watching them. It wasn't long before the campfire died out and the sun started to rise. It was late when they started, it might as well be late when they ended.

Esker stopped first, holding out the ending note. Azu followed in suit, humming one more phrase before holding out the same ending pitch.

The wind took over the symphony, and it was peaceful.

Esker turned to Azu with an undiscernible emotion. "You're going to go through a lot in life, but don't forget to appreciate what you have right now, Azurite. You're growing up to big and brave. Time doesn't stop moving for anyone. It changes everyone one way or another."

"Huh?" Azu blinked. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I will, Esker."

"Now, don't go forgetting about me too. I'll see if I can come down a little more." Esker said.

Azurite stretched and yawned. They couldn't believe they were singing the same thing all night. Hanging out with Esker made Azurite feel like a hatchling all over again. 

"Alright, hatchling," Esker said, standing up then offering a hand to the trainee. "Let's get you straight to bed."

Azu rubbed their eyes then took Esker's hand, stood up, and almost leaned onto them. "Am I gonna see you tomorrow?" Their voice felt so small.

Esker redirected their gaze to the sky and helped Azu walk to their cabin. "Not tomorrow. I have to go back to Attlerock soon, but I promise to come visit more. When I can."

"You'll visit again soon?" Azu said.

"I'll try." Esker said.

When the two reached the space cadet's cabin, Esker let go of Azu's hand, so that they could enter their own place. Before Azurite could open the door, they glanced at Esker.

"You've grown so much, Azu. Come visit me when you into space, okay?" Esker said.

And for some reason, Esker didn't seem like the strong Hearthian with an air of courage. They were who they were. They were still Esker. They had wrinkles around their eyes and forehead. The way the walked had more of a trudge to it. Azurite was almost as tall as Esker now.

The realization that time changed things struck Azurite. Azurite would finally be going out to space in a few months, the same thing they would dream about for days without end. It was finally going to happen.

"I promise," Azu said with a wave.

With a nod and a smile, Esker walked away. As a hatchling, Azu would've chased after the older Hearthian and begged them not to go. However, they weren't a hatchling anymore. They were barely considered an adult yet, but soon they would be.

The space cadet walked into their cabin and fell asleep on their bed.

It was nice having Esker come over, but Esker never had the chance to visit again before Azurite's solo launch. And that was okay. Azurite had a lot training and flights in the meantime. Not only that, but Hornfels wouldn't get off their case about not having an instrument to carry. Azu didn't want an instrument, but it allowed ground control to know if their astronauts were safe. Azu fought every way to avoid getting an instrument.

The stubbornness boiled to a point where Hornfels told them to choose an instrument, and that it was part of their training. Hornfels knew that Azu had some musical prowess in them, and they had to use it. It was a faster alternative to checking if the adventurers were alive rather than radioing everyone all at once.

The trainee trudged their way to Gneiss's cabin in search of the instrument.

Gneiss glanced at the lyre in Azu's hands. "Is this the instrument you want to take?"

"I told Hornfels I would take this one," Azu said with a level tone. "They said I needed something to make sure I was safe in space at least."

Gneiss hummed and took the lyre from the space cadet's hands. They pulled out one of the carving tools from their pocket and tapped it against the wood. The lyre made a thud noise. "The lyre's a lovely instrument. I worked tirelessly to make the strings remind me of the twinkle of the stars."  They chuckled. "It reminded me of when you were one of the youngest hatchlings."

Azu crossed their arms. "I'm going on my solo launch soon. I am not a hatchling anymore, Gneiss."

"You're always going to be a hatchling to me, Azurite." Gneiss shook their head. They placed the lyre on the counter and examined Azurite. "Are you sure? I have so many other instruments that you could use." The instrument maker gestured around the room.

On the walls hung violins, kalimbas, flutes, harmonicas, and on the floor rested drums, banjos, maracas... There were so many instruments in here, more than Azu could even name. What in Hearth's name was an ocarina? Azurite had no idea. However, none of these instruments really reached out to them though. They had no inclination to learn and then play all these new instruments. 

"Yes, I'm sure, Gneiss," Azu said. "Plus, Hornfels just wants something they can capture on their signalscope."

Gneiss sighed and went back to their workbench. "Of course, that would make the most sense." They picked up a craving tool and started to engrave something into the lyre's side.

"What are you doing?" The younger Hearthian leaned over Gneiss's shoulder.

"Oh, did I not tell you?" Gneiss said, squinting their eyes as the make a small incision in the wood. "I'd put your name on your instrument. I did it with the rest of the astronauts because it's your instrument alone."

"I can't give it back?" Azurite said.

"You don't need to give it back. It's yours, Azurite." Gneiss picked up the instrument from their table and placed it into the space cadet's hands.

Azu ran their hand along the side of the lyre. Etched into the wood was their name visible against the rest of the dark wooden grain. "Why?"

"Because it's yours." Gneiss nodded. "Whether you choose to play it or not is up to you, but it's yours. Think of it as a gift from me."

Azurite's hands started trembling. They didn't understand why. They turned the lyre in their hands. This instrument was theirs. Something handcrafted from the master instrument maker, and it had a sign that it was fully theirs. Except it didn't feel like it should be theirs. They'd only played the lyre a handful of times. It sounded pretty, but it wasn't Riebeck's banjo nor Chert's drums. Whenever they played with a lyre, it didn't feel like Azurite's lyre.

"It feels like yesterday you were just a hatchling singing your heart out in the grove," Gneiss said.

Azu blanched. "You remember that?"

"Of course. You were always so passionate in those music sessions when I taught them. You were always in the front, trying out a new instrument every time. I don't think any of those that you tried stuck with you though," Gneiss said.

"Yeah..." Azu said.

"And that's fine too. You have anything you're passionate about."

"You know, Chert said something along those same lines."

"I'm glad Chert and I see eye-to-eye on this," Gneiss said and gestured to a seat. "Why don't you sit down for a bit, Azu? It looks like you're going to take off at any moment, and it isn't your launch day quiet yet."

And Azurite already wanted it to be their launch day so they don't have to do this much talking about music. Chert wasn't here. Riebeck wasn't here. Gabbro wasn't here anymore. There weren't many other people who made music and talked about the stars and the skies as if it were their lifeline.

The young Hearthian sat down in front of Gneiss. The chair had ornate wooden rests, no doubt that Gneiss made them. Gneiss could always create something beautiful with a little piece of wood. Azu pulled the lyre close to their chest.

Gneiss took a deep breath. "Do you know how closely integrated music is in the Hearthian culture?"

Azu tilted their head before shaking it. They didn't pay attention to history of Timber Hearth other than what the Outer Wilds Ventures have accomplished. That organization was only more than a decade older than Azu was, so remembering those milestones wasn't as difficult.

The older Hearthian tapped a finger against their chin and pulled a drum towards them. It wasn't the same shape as Chert's. It was two smaller drums joined with a bar in the center. Gneiss rested it on their lap. "Before either of us were born, maybe even before Esker was born too, Hearthians always had an affinity towards sound. We would create percussive noises by hitting the water." Gneiss hit the drum in a steady rhythm, very reminiscent of the river running outside.

"The rhythms they would create before came from their hearts." Gneiss rested one hand on their chest, while the other hand went ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum on their instrument. "They didn't have a standardized way to create music. They didn't know how to create music, but they knew what to listen for. And while others would look for the dangers in the water, we would listen for the vibrations, identifying which ones are familiar and unfamiliar."

Gneiss played a quiet and slow drumroll. "Then as Hearthians finally came out of the water, the first thing that came out of their mouths wasn't words. Our elders said, it was music. The way our mouths would move to create vibrations in an even tone to create something pleasant for the ears. They started off with bubbles in the water to making drums with tree trunks to carving flutes out of wood. They also said that's why Hearthians' ears are so large, and I'm inclined to believe them."

The drumroll, still quiet, started to speed up its tempo. "We've passed music through our generations, even when there were moments we thought Hearthians wouldn't survive this disaster. Through those times, Hearthians created music that we still play and sing today through festivals or celebrations. Music to Hearthians is proof that we exist."

"Azu." Gneiss's drumroll slowed down to a stop. "I know you don't care for this instrument, but you care for music, don't you? I wouldn't see you listening so intently whenever we have our musicians playing at events otherwise."

Azu couldn't move, couldn't say anything. They held the lyre close to them. Gneiss knew exactly what they were feeling yet still gave them hours of hard work in the form of the lyre. And this lyre could become their motif in space, what other Hearthians would look for through their signalscopes.

"It's a solo launch gift for you from me and Hornfels, but also as a reminder that there are so many different forms of music. You don't have to use the lyre, space cadet, but you will be making music because it's something you enjoy. I know this about you, and you've always been like this since you were a hatchling," Gneiss said, placing a hand on Azu's shoulder.

Azu struggled to find their voice. "Th-thank you, Gneiss," they squeaked and gripped lyre.

"It's no problem, hatchling," Gneiss said. "Remember to take proper care of that lyre though. It's still an instrument that needs respect."

Azu nodded. They were at a lost for words. They were part of this large history of Hearthians and music, and that amazed them as much as it scared them. How could they have not paid attention to this part of history? They had music so far in the backburner that they had forgotten the little things they enjoyed.

Gneiss's gaze softened. "Okay, I've given you things to think about, and I know you're rather busy prepping for your launch. I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks," Azu said. "No, really, I mean it." The trainee tucked the lyre under one shoulder. They walked towards the front door.

"You're welcome," Gneiss said. "And if you're ever in need of music lessons whether it be for singing or the lyre, you know where to find me. Take care now."

"I do." 

Azurite exited Gneiss's cabin and took in a huge inhale. Well, they didn't quite expect that instrument maker to remember a lot of the things Azu did when they were a small hatchling. It was nice for someone else to acknowledge that the lyre isn't truly their calling, but music was a part of them. It was little complicated to wrap their head around. They didn't have to do training today because Hornfels said getting an instrument would constitute as their training today, so they went around Timber Hearth for a quiet place.

In the same grove they would make music with Riebeck, Azurite set the lyre to their side. They still didn't want much to do with it in terms of making music, but it was part of Hearthian culture and history. It was part of Azurite's history one way or another, and they were going to include it in their adventures. This was their instrument, a gift from Gneiss and a gift from Outer Wilds Ventures. It didn't feel like it should be theirs though. Their instrument was their voice.

They vehemently wished to deny their instrument to be their voice. But they had always known as a hatchling. And they know now. The reason why they never cared for a physical instrument. They had one physically part of them. Though burning shame stopped them. Why should they have this shame? And where did it come from? Why did it burn their throat whenever someone invited them unto the stage with a hand outstretched.

This grove was a safe space. When Riebeck went into space, Azu took it as their own place to find peace.

They closed their eyes and hummed. Nothing similar to what they made with Riebeck, or Chert, or even Esker. This was the feeling of taking a note and going for it. The rhythms had no reason, the pitches were all over the place. They played with the sound, with their voice to reclaim something they could call their own.

Azurite opens their eyes.

The familiar sight of Giant's Deep greets them with its swirling cyclones of greens and blues. If Azu kept staring at them, then they'd be hypnotized by now. They plucked some of the string on their lyre to the sound of the rushing wind.

"Have something on your mind?" Gabbro's baritone voice cuts through the wind.

Azu says, "I always have something on my mind."

Gabbro chuckles. "That you sure do, pal." They bring up the flute to their mouthpiece and start playing.

The notes coming out of the flute are low and long. They switch from one note to another in a languid motion. Against the percussive noises of the gales, the melody Gabbro plays becomes almost a drone, a backpiece of the entire picture of Giant's Deep. The flautist doesn't take many breaks to catch a breath, but it seems like they have much practice dealing with this sort of stamina.

"Do you only play low notes?" Azu says.

"It uses less air, and in turn, less energy," Gabbro says, and then returns to playing their flute.

Despite the rushes of wind and quiet dread that a cyclone can and will bring this island into space, the low flute music adds a calming element to everything. It's almost unreal how many things have happened in the span of many sets of twenty-two minutes. Azu could close their eyes right now, but if they do, they might end up on Timber Hearth. They want to stay in the present and listen to the orchestra of sounds the things and people around them can do.

The flute stops. "Azu, if you wanna play something you can," Gabbro says.

Azu plucks a stray string on their lyre.

"Well, that sure is a choice," Gabbro says. "But I won't force you if you don't want to." They gaze into one of the cyclones in the distance. "Music calms me down."

"Is that why you choose to play it all the time?" Azu says, genuinely curious. Gabbro would play their flute for time without end if Azu doesn't visit them. Though there are some loop where flautist doesn't play at all. Everyone's entitled to their own secrets.

Gabbro barks out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that. It's been one of the few things keeping me grounded, you know, with everything happening."

"You're telling me."

Though it's hard to tell what's on Gabbro's mind, but with the loops, some things are certain. Gabbro doesn't like thinking too much about the existential crisis of waking up to a new loop every single time. The older astronaut would make jokes whenever Azurite is over, but that's the same thing they would do when hatchlings are around or when Hornfels wants to chew them out. Gabbro doesn't know what to do with this type of responsibility.

Neither does Azu.

That's probably why they finally gravitated towards each other. Gabbro isn't a bad person at all. Gabbro disappears and reappears from time to time, very akin to a quantum shard. Give it to the astrophysicist who specializes in quantum mechanics to come into sight whenever they want. The opposite of Azurite who wants to be there whenever possible, to discover the secrets of the universe and learn even more.

Now, it's just two astronauts sitting on an island on Giant's Deep, both coping in different ways to this new way of life. Stars above, if Hornfels knew how much Gabbro is rubbing off on Azu, the younger astronaut would get an earful.

Gabbro restarts their low musical phrase on the flute. It's the same molasses slow tempo and stretches the sound at the end of each note. Azurite nods their head to keep in tempo with the flautist. Oh, this isn't the usual song that Gabbro plays. Usually, they would play their harmony to the 'Travelers' that Esker taught them all a long time ago. What would be the best way to complement this song?

The singer hums the same notes as the flute but an octave higher. From there, they find a new harmony to allow the low notes to resonant through the higher timbre of the voice. Then there's a switch in Gabbro's playing where they go up an entire two scales to rest on the note higher than the humming. Then they trill that note with a note that is slightly lower. Gabbro takes a huge breath and hops down a chord, creating a phrase similar to 'Travelers', but not quite. There's a note the lasts too long, or one that they skim over. Azurite almost stops humming to listen closer to what Gabbro what doing. The flute's music pierces through the gusts and gales.

Through their faceplates, Azu could've sworn that Gabbro has a smirk on their face. After their little display of skill, they go back to playing their low notes. The ones that use the least energy to play. Gabbro repeats the same pattern of low notes with the flow they used before.

Now, if Gabbro is showing off, that doesn't mean Azurite couldn't either. Instead of humming, the younger astronaut opens their mouth to sing a note. Their voice resonates against the trees, and the wind doesn't drain it out. They sing a long held note, allowing the vibrato to carry itself. Then they improvise a melody, going down the musical scale by thirds only to go back up, then hop to the fourth. They reach into the recesses of their mind for something that at least sounds good.

Then Gabbro backs off of remaining as the backing notes, and takes one of Azu's phrases to modify a bit in which the ending doesn't resolve. The singer sings a phrase where it resolves. This call and response pattern continues until Gabbro gasps for breath. Azu has never heard that sound from Gabbro ever. Not even in their training. Actually sometimes in their training, but never in this scenario. Azu stops singing and bursts out laughing. Gabbro joins them once they can.

They laugh for a bit, and then bathe in the silence. Unlike the most Hearthians, Gabbro doesn't mind the quiet. They've always been like that, where they joke around and figure out the best thing to say in the right moments. Yet somehow find a way to disappear where the moments get too tough. Gabbro hasn't done the latter at all though. 

"Hey, Azu," Gabbro says, scooting over and making space on their hammock.

Azurite sits down next to Gabbro. "What's up?"

"You're always welcome here to take in the view, make music, or whatever," Gabbro says. "I'm sure you'd probably prefer anyone else to be stuck in the loops with--"

"No, I don't." Azu's immediate response surprises themself.

Gabbro widens their eyes.

"Could you imagine if Feldspar was in this loop or Slate? Stars forbid, any of the hatchlings?" Azu places a hand on Gabbro's shoulder. "You've helped me calm down and ground myself. Told me to slow down a little more. To think a little bit more. To bounce my ideas off of you. You're my time buddy, Gabbro, and none of this would've been possible without you."

Gabbro averts their gaze. "Yeah, we're time buddies, but--"

"But nothing, Gabbro! You're here now, and we're just gonna have to make the best out of it." Azu pats Gabbro on the back. "We're in this together."

Gabbro sighs and shakes their head. "You're right. We're in this together, pal." They lean back onto the hammock and play two descending notes on the flute. "I... okay, okay, if you're ever in need of any help at all. I'll be here. I'll work with what I can, but I'll be here."

"I know," Azu says.

Gabbro smiles weakly. "Good." Then they look up, the skies have gotten much dimmer from when Azu first came to the planet. "And thanks."

"For what?" Azu says.

"You know," Gabbro says.

"Wait, no, I don--"

"Anyways, feel free to pop on by whenever you want to jam or need a place to relax as well. We're in no rush, Azu. Take a break and don't push yourself too hard, okay?" Gabbro says before blowing into their flute.

Before Azu could do anything, a flash of heat engulfs their body.

The loop ends and greets Azu with a Nomai mask. The scenes of talking to Gabbro the previous loop plays right in front of the singer and the route they took to go to Giant's Deep. While it isn't the most productive loop they've ever done, it's better than not understanding the types of feelings they are going through. The loops are a special type of hell and also a special type of opportunity. It's strange. Though it's good to know that at least they are not alone. Also Gabbro times the sun supernova way too well for Azu’s own liking.

When Azurite opens their eyes, the Orbital Probe Cannon shoots in the distance. The deep greens of Giant's Deep paint the dawn sky. The smell of fresh trees and grass. It's the smell of Timber Hearth. Azurite doesn't think they'll ever get bored of this smell. The breeze whistles in their ears with the crackle of flame creating a soft percussive beat. Shoes rustle near the fire.

Azu already knows who is tending the fire. It's always the same in every loop, and it won't ever change.

The traveler shuffles out of their warm sleeping bag and shivers. Goodness, their spacesuit is so much warmer than waking up at the crack of dawn here. In the first loop, Azu was practically vibrating in the sleeping bag until the person by the fire told Azu to sleep or else they might cause some trouble for the ship. Azu sits on the log next to the engineer Slate. The one who made it so hard to sing in front of other people because they made it so nerve wrecking to hear criticisms all of a sudden.

This may only happen this loop, but maybe... just maybe, it will finally grant the closure that Azurite needs for their voice.

Slate adjusts the wielding shield to the top of their head. "There's our pilot! Ready to--"

No, this pilot will not hear the same thing Slate has said over and over again. They will not take it. They need something to change, and that something changes right now.

"Slate, let's play some music?" Azu says.

Slate's eyes widen and drops the marshmallow into the fire. The engineer scrambles to grab their roasting stick before making eye contact with Azurite. The silence between the two Hearthians is louder than the wind and the crackling fire before them.

If Azurite jumps in the fire right now, they can redo this whole interaction. They don't have to even do this. Why are they--

"Where's this coming from? I know Hornfels gave you some grief for not choosing an instrument until a few weeks ago," Slate says.

"I changed my mind. Music is important and I need to learn one way or another," Azu says, leaning closer to Slate. "And I've learned so much from you. You can teach me this too, can't you?"

Slate blinks and places the roasting stick against the log. "I'm not right person for that. You can talk to Gneiss or Hornfels, but me? I'm here to see my spaceship go into space."

Azurite picks up the lyre next to the campfire. Thank goodness to Gneiss for reminding them to bring it the night before the campout. Although, it feels so long ago now. Time isn't real anymore, and these people aren't the same people who would share the same experiences anymore. But they are still important to this space cadet.

Azu strums a chord on their lyre, breaking the awkward silence between the senior and junior engineers. "Come on, Slate! It won't be that hard. You enjoy the music we have at festivals. This shouldn't be any different."

Slate sighs. "I'm not musical, Azu. I didn't think you'd be this interested in music."

"I am, Slate. Maybe not for a lyre, but I could probably work with something else later on," Azurite says.

"Hm..." Slate considers Azu. "That's true. Are you going to be using it for any of projects?"

"Huh?"

"Those sound amplifiers that could make sound travel through a vacuum, you planning on working on those?"

Azurite has completely forgotten the project they were working on before going into space. They've been so focused on figuring out the Nomai's fate and stopping the fate befalling this solar system, that their side projects and passions became something of the past. It could be something they could work on again in the future though. They need to remember what they were doing before.

A pang of sadness runs through them.

That isn't the point of this conversation with Slate this loop, so they nod their nod with tight lips.

Slate stares before shrugging. "You're the one with a better musical ear than me. I can't teach you what you already know."

"Me? I have musicality?" Azu says. They couldn't cover their mouth fast enough to stop the words from coming out. The loops took away their main source of filtering words when talking to other people because they wouldn't remember what Azurite said in the first place. So what is the point of doing all this?

Because if they won't remember, then Azurite will remember for them.

"Yeah?" Slate said. "I thought you already knew that. You're the one who hummed a bunch in the workshop before. It was nice."

What.

"It was nice?"

"Are you not listening to what I'm saying?" Slate says. "It was nice, Azurite. Good even. Dunno why you decided to stop."

Slate thinks that they're good at humming? No, no, they paid attention to the fact that Azurite hummed throughout their work days, and Slate didn't say anything about that. Did they know how much grief Azurite went through only to figure out that it was all a miscommunication in the end. Standing in the fire this loop sounds more and more enticing by the second. Maybe they should take the ship and launch it and start screaming into the void of space.

"Didn't you say one time I sounded like a horn?" Azurite leaned in. "That it sounded bad?"

Slate kicked at the dirt before making eye contact with their student. "Because it sounded strained then. I was talking to Gossan earlier that if you strained your voice too much you'd lose it."

Azurite buried their head in their hands and muffled their scream. There was a rustle beside them.

"Hey, hatchling, if you're not up to launching today, that's fine, we can do it another day."

No, because they can launch another loop. There won't be another day of this. This whole thing will reset and nothing would ever happen. Within a couple a minutes, this interaction would have never happened.

This would have never happened if Azurite just paid attention to the signs! Why didn't they just confront Slate in the first place! Slate was never good at communicating their emotions. Azurite worked closely with them. Azu should've known!

But they didn't. Not then. They know now.

The astronaut inhales and exhales. Inhale and exhale. The same way that Gabbro taught them when they were losing their mind in the beginning of the loops. They push their frustrations down and pull their head from their hands.

"Well, how do you feel about some music?" Azu says, "I need a little bit of it before I go into space."

"Solo launch getting on your nerves?" Slate says.

Azu waves their hand. "Something like that."

Azurite pulls the harp onto their lap and plucks a few notes. Practicing with Gabbro earlier helped them remember some of their lessons with Gneiss. They aren't a natural at it, the notes get louder whenever Azu doesn't mean to or has a harsh twang when they pluck it incorrectly. They are using it more as a backing instrument.

Azu closes their eyes, pushes back on the lump in their throat, and create a note in their throat. It's a little shaky, but it's there. It somehow feels louder than the crackling of flames. Just like how Riebeck used to do, they adjust their hand positions to play these chords on the lyre. It is a simple pattern of four different chords where it would restart at the first chord every time it reached the end of the phrase.

They don't know what kind of music they would make. Maybe they could make the music of a star. With how much they've been exploring this solar system, they could conjure something out of that. From their first unsteady hummed note, they reign their emotions to sound out a more resonate note from their throat. How to create the music of the stars? Stars are always so bright and sparkly. They always induce a sense of wonderment and awe. There are so far and unattainable, but maybe one day, they will become reachable.

Azu's song goes up in melody, ringing out on the highest note, before trilling. The stars light up the bright sky. The melody hops down and up, trying to remain a happy melody, except... the stars won't always stay up there. The melody glides down the phrase, settling on the lowest part, then becoming an unresolved note. But it's only the way of the universe. They way that physics guide the phenomenon of life. From the unresolved note, they pull up the pitch to finally resolve by the end of their last chord in this four chord phrase.

They repeat this pattern of chords and melody, ingraining it into them. Into their memory. Until that lump in their throat disappears, and the song resonates in their heart.

Once they find the courage to open one set of years, Azu sees Slate watching them with a slight smile. Slate with a fond smile is a rare sight for anyone. With all those tireless nights in the workshop, Slate would always look out for Azurite. Azurite was the first one to look into learning more about engineering than the rest of the current astronauts. Slate took forever to warm up to Azu in their workshop, but they wouldn't leave Azu there alone or without a blanket if they were cold.

Slate used their actions the same way others would choose their words. Talking isn't easy, and Azu used to know how to talk to everyone in the village. So when Slate says something, they mean it.

"It's nice to hear you sing again, Azu," Slate says.

Azu's heart swells.

"Yeah, me too."