Rosewater Oasis marchitó

Her voice reached his ears, flicking to catch her speak of fleeting prettiness and all things lingering. The desert sand was a shifting ocean, briefly pretty, but the stars he reckoned were eternally picturesque. Curious though, to know how she identified beauty, her comments bringing a gentle smile to his face. 

Head rising then to finally take her in his gaze, the spirit was met with the figure of a small woman. "More than the stars," he admitted, "more than Nwt. I stay because I am meant to." And he believed it so. "What about you?"