Silverlight Terrace my taste in music is your face

He lingers too long. The shadow notices him and draws closer, and Revui idles there like a silver flame lit by the moon. At first he is tense and increasingly cautious while the other wolf drifts along. He cannot tell with certainty where the angles of their body begin and the shadows end; he does see the way the moonlight catches in the finer hairs along their back, dappling their spine, catching on the contours of the face - and he tries to relax, lest his nervous energy be read as something more volatile. Despite always being interested in a fight, Revui finds himself placated in the immediate moment. He would rather enjoy the darkness and the clarity of the night, even if it is with a stranger who could mean him ill. He is confident enough in himself not to worry for long.

The stranger is more attuned to the stars as they emerge overhead, which is a good sign. Their question brings to mind the tiny lessons that his parents attempted to pass down to their children; Revui, who always found sleep more rewarding than staring at the nothingness of the cosmos, could not immediately draw any names to mind. Arcturus might know, or perhaps Jarilo, or any of his other numerous siblings - but he was not the one to ask.

in the end he shrugged and made something up on the spot.

The shrike. He connects them with his imagination, tracing them with his eyes. Its wings are there— he says, motioning to a cluster with a tilt of his snout, and below, it impales its dinner. The line of stars arcs towards a bowl-shape but Revui disregards that bit as it does not suit his impromptu narrative; all of which is surprisingly creative for someone with the intellectual capacity of a rock.