The Sentinels Call me anytime you see the lightning

Sure, they were all small — and sure, on a cosmic scale they were but a speck of grain against an endless cosmos — but Arcturus did not like to think of Wraen’s impact as minuscule.

He’d changed, too. He’d gotten more pragmatic as the years wore him down. Less romantic in some ways. Colder, certainly. But what was life without hardship?

It went without saying Arcturus very much was against Wraen being struck by lightning, or having any harm befall her. He glanced skyward where daggers of light speared purple clouds, the low and loud song of thunder crackling overhead. There may be others, but they aren’t you. Maia and I would find your death anything but a small and insignificant event. As for vulnerability — Arcturus would always hate it. Fight against it, even.