Fine, I guess I'll just stay here and eat dirt or whatever.

You smell very delicious, but I will not bite you.

I am so much more than what you made me.

But loneliness that deep gets into the marrow. Now that I’m here - among friends - I can feel it burning out of me. Little by little, step by step.

Like moons make swell and wane the nescient seas, so too the sky-strewn gods ordain the tidal fates of mortal days. And yet - a notion born in lonely hours - come ebb, come flow, come all that is beyond the breadth of our dominion: be a moon unto yourself. Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will.