A woman sits on the edge of a cliff and watches a sunset. The sun's the wrong color, and the ocean it sets over isn't comprised of salt water, but if she just tells her brain to shut up in favor of playing pretend, it could almost be like Earth. Like she decided to just go watch a sunset, and when it's finished she can turn around and grab her bike and go home. That everything will be just as she left it. But if getting home were so easy, she wouldn't be here. Maybe she's been away for so long, changed herself in enough ways, that it won't be home when she gets there. Probably. She's pretty different, now. But as things for a baby eldritch cosmic horror to aim for, 'reconnect with home civilization' isn't the worst one. Maybe if she's lucky her parents and sister will even still be alive. Maybe if she's luckier, they'll even still recognize her.

Bah. What is it with sunsets making her so gloomy? This was supposed to be a nice thing, and it took some work to find a good place to watch a sunset. Wallowing in misery isn't the worst past time ever, but it's not one she likes to make a habit of. It's uncomfortable. Not a bad place to visit, but a terrible place to stay. When her mind is free to be built in whatever direction she wants it to be built in, it pays to have good mental habits. If she wanted to, she could remove them as things she could feel entirely, but - well, there are so many things wrong with that idea she doesn't even know where to start. What she needs is moderation, and moderation means self awareness and thoughtfulness and, occasionally, not letting loneliness and sentimentality ruin a perfectly nice pretty thing that reminds her of her (once) home.

Easier said than done, though. She sighs, then stands. The novelty's worn off. Time to go. She'll leave a piece of herself to finish watching the sunset for her, and then she'll move on. This world's nicer than many of the others she's been to, but she doesn't want to stay here any longer.

"Bye, pretty sunset world," she says to the empty ocean with a wave. A small mote of starscape detaches itself from her jacket and hovers vigil for her. This way, if she changes her mind about the sunset she can always watch it later. She picks a destination that has oxygen and liquid water and sensible physics, and then she departs.

A woman sits on the edge of a cliff and watches a sunset. The sun's the wrong color, and the ocean it sets over isn't comprised of salt water, but if she just tells her brain to shut up in favor of playing pretend, it could almost be like Earth. Like she decided to just go watch a sunset, and when it's finished she can turn around and grab her bike and go home. That everything will be just as she left it. But if getting home were so easy, she wouldn't be here. Maybe she's been away for so long, changed herself in enough ways, that it won't be home when she gets there. Probably. She's pretty different, now. But as things for a baby eldritch cosmic horror to aim for, 'reconnect with home civilization' isn't the worst one. Maybe if she's lucky her parents and sister will even still be alive. Maybe if she's luckier, they'll even still recognize her.

Bah. What is it with sunsets making her so gloomy? This was supposed to be a nice thing, and it took some work to find a good place to watch a sunset. Wallowing in misery isn't the worst past time ever, but it's not one she likes to make a habit of. It's uncomfortable. Not a bad place to visit, but a terrible place to stay. When her mind is free to be built in whatever direction she wants it to be built in, it pays to have good mental habits. If she wanted to, she could remove them as things she could feel entirely, but - well, there are so many things wrong with that idea she doesn't even know where to start. What she needs is moderation, and moderation means self awareness and thoughtfulness and, occasionally, not letting loneliness and sentimentality ruin a perfectly nice pretty thing that reminds her of her (once) home.

Easier said than done, though. She sighs, then stands. The novelty's worn off. Time to go. She'll leave a piece of herself to finish watching the sunset for her, and then she'll move on. This world's nicer than many of the others she's been to, but she doesn't want to stay here any longer.

"Bye, pretty sunset world," she says to the empty ocean with a wave. A small mote of starscape detaches itself from her jacket and hovers vigil for her. This way, if she changes her mind about the sunset she can always watch it later. She picks a destination that has oxygen and liquid water and sensible physics, and then she departs.

A woman sits on the edge of a cliff and watches a sunset. The sun's the wrong color, and the ocean it sets over isn't comprised of salt water, but if she just tells her brain to shut up in favor of playing pretend, it could almost be like Earth. Like she decided to just go watch a sunset, and when it's finished she can turn around and grab her bike and go home. That everything will be just as she left it. But if getting home were so easy, she wouldn't be here. Maybe she's been away for so long, changed herself in enough ways, that it won't be home when she gets there. Probably. She's pretty different, now. But as things for a baby eldritch cosmic horror to aim for, 'reconnect with home civilization' isn't the worst one. Maybe if she's lucky her parents and sister will even still be alive. Maybe if she's luckier, they'll even still recognize her.

Bah. What is it with sunsets making her so gloomy? This was supposed to be a nice thing, and it took some work to find a good place to watch a sunset. Wallowing in misery isn't the worst pasttime ever, but it's not one she likes to make a habit of. It's uncomfortable. Not a bad place to visit, but a terrible place to stay. When her mind is free to be built in whatever direction she wants it to be built in, it pays to have good mental habits. If she wanted to, she could remove them as things she could feel entirely, but - well, there are so many things wrong with that idea she doesn't even know where to start. What she needs is moderation, and moderation means self awareness and thoughtfulness and, occasionally, not letting loneliness and sentimentality ruin a perfectly nice pretty thing that reminds her of her (once) home.

Easier said than done, though. She sighs, then stands. The novelty's worn off. Time to go. She'll leave a piece of herself to finish watching the sunset for her, and then she'll move on. This world's nicer than many of the others she's been to, but she doesn't want to stay here any longer.

"Bye, pretty sunset world," she says to the empty ocean with a wave. A small mote of starscape detaches itself from her jacket and hovers vigil for her. This way, if she changes her mind about the sunset she can always watch it later. She picks a destination that has oxygen and liquid water and sensible physics, and then she departs.

A woman sits on the edge of a cliff and watches a sunset. The sun's the wrong color, and the ocean it sets over isn't comprised of salt water, but if she just tells her brain to shut up in favor of playing pretend, it could almost be like Earth. Like she decided to just go watch a sunset, and when it's finished she can turn around and grab her bike and go home. That everything will be just as she left it. But if getting home were so easy, she wouldn't be here. Maybe she's been away for so long, changed herself in enough ways, that it won't be home when she gets there. Probably. She's pretty different, now. But as things for a baby eldritch cosmic horror to aim for, 'reconnect with home civilization' isn't the worst one. Maybe if she's lucky her parents and sister will even still be alive. Maybe if she's luckier, they'll even still recognize her.

Bah. What is it with sunsets making her so gloomy? This was supposed to be a nice thing, and it took some work to find a good place to watch a sunset. Wallowing in misery isn't the worst pastime ever, but it's not one she likes to make a habit of. It's uncomfortable. Not a bad place to visit, but a terrible place to stay. When her mind is free to be built in whatever direction she wants it to be built in, it pays to have good mental habits. If she wanted to, she could remove them as things she could feel entirely, but - well, there are so many things wrong with that idea she doesn't even know where to start. What she needs is moderation, and moderation means self awareness and thoughtfulness and, occasionally, not letting loneliness and sentimentality ruin a perfectly nice pretty thing that reminds her of her (once) home.

Easier said than done, though. She sighs, then stands. The novelty's worn off. Time to go. She'll leave a piece of herself to finish watching the sunset for her, and then she'll move on. This world's nicer than many of the others she's been to, but she doesn't want to stay here any longer.

"Bye, pretty sunset world," she says to the empty ocean with a wave. A small mote of starscape detaches itself from her jacket and hovers vigil for her. This way, if she changes her mind about the sunset she can always watch it later. She picks a destination that has oxygen and liquid water and sensible physics, and then she departs.