Northstar Vale some of my storm recognized some of your rain

A small noise of contemplation leaves the imperial druid as Seabreeze mentions that the stars may make a better mistress than the sea. “I have never been to the sea,” He admits in a soft murmur and then adds with a small chuckle of mirth, “but neither have I touched the stars.” It is an impossible thing, he thinks. Yet, despite his curiosity — as insensitive and prying as it can be at times! — he does not ask her what the sea is like, lest he come off as rude. He often walks a fine line between curiosity and nosy and more than he’d care to admit that fine line blurs and smears; and truthfully there are times the Rochester simply …does not care whether he is being nosy. It depends and the criteria is never set, nor so easily defined in stark, black and white terms.

“My favorite changes,” He admits unabashedly and his gaze lifts from her to the heavens once more. “Currently, I am taken with Orion.” He lifts his muzzle and attempts to trace the constellation with his nose. Mato is easily a fictitious creature as he lives and breathes fanciful stories: of nature, of stars; thus it does not usually occur to him that his passions may mean nothing to anyone else. “He was the lover of a woman called Artemis, a goddess of the moon and hunt. Her brother, Apollo god of music and the sun grew jealous of their love affair. He devised a cruel plan that caused Artemis to kill Orion on accident; and unable to recognize her lover Artemis carried out Apollo's plan with flawless percision. Grief stricken, she asked her father Zeus to place him among the stars and so he did.” Mato offers her the story, though regardless of which version he chose to go with the end result was the same: Orion died, Artemis lived and Zeus immortalized him for his distraught daughter by placing him in the stars.