[I don’t think you said...so I’m going to assume it’s twilight/dusk :P]

Presently, the old philosopher was contemplating the stars.

How amazing and baffling, that one would wish upon such things. Did the God of the Sun find himself annoyed that the sun, the greatest star with relation to Helovia, was completely overlooked, for the multitude of others that twinkled far, far in the distance? Or perhaps it simply wasn't common knowledge that the sun was a star. Myrddin couldn't be sure - so much was lost in translation, or simply overlooked as unimportant in the teachings of the very young. It pained his heart and boiled his blood at the very thought of all of the half-truths and convenient tales that mothers and wise-one’s told the young of their herd; only perpetuating the cycle of misinformation until it grows so common that while we bask in the light of the sun, we forget to wish upon it, preferring the cold light of dying stars thousands of light years away.

In truth, the sun is the only star worth wishing on; it is the only one who can truly hear you. Raising his blind gaze to the night sky, envisioning in his expressive mind a vast atmosphere of twinkling lights, he smiled wistfully. It was like looking back in time - for by and large the majority of the light that one could see of the stars, was merely their brilliant and beautiful death rattles, as they overcame themselves and burst into the universe. Yet equines of all sorts wish upon their beautiful unearthly echoes as they stream across time to our eyes (for those fortunate enough to still have them). Lovers croon beneath them, children wish upon them, battles and assassinations are plotted and conducted under their cover; for everyone knows that the night holds all secrets. And why shouldn't it? Only ghosts are watching, for the only living star, the sun, has cast his eyes away.

”They wish on their dying breaths, Zikar-Sin” Myrddin said clearly, not moving his blind gaze from studying the heavens. Sin was quiet and still, yet having been one of the few that Myrddin had spent the most time with after his blinding, the old stag had grown accustomed to his scent. Turning, his gnarled horn outlined by the bright moonlight, Myrddin himself looked as though he could be a ghost. After joining the Basin he had put on a healthy amount of weight again, and no longer looked as emaciated and shrived as he once had. And, for the most part, his injuries had healed from all of his time spent stumbling about. His mane, tail, and beard had re-acquired their lustrous white sheen, and tumbled in wispy waves around his pale frame. Yet his eyes remained milky white and unseeing. Constantly he chastised himself for not having completed his quest for the Goddess, but in truth, he wasn’t so sure how he would return to her, given that the Veins were so very far away. He very much doubted that the God of the Spark would be willing to do him any favours, given how their last conversation had gone. Gruffly, Myrddin turned around to face where he assumed Sin was standing, his nostrils flaring slightly to inhale his scent.

”Do you think the stars wish for anything?” He mumbled rather ambiguously, casting a distracted and unhelpful gaze up into the night sky. Frowning, he shook his head slightly, as if agreeing with himself that they probably did not. Curiously, he turned his attention back to Sin with an elongated sigh. Had the young-ling sought him out, or had this meeting simply happened by ‘chance’. Of course, the aged philosopher didn't believe in chance, theorizing that everything in fact, was pre-determined. Still, if one thought of ‘chance’ as merely an epistemology uncertainty well....maybe that was valid. Frowning again, he wondered if this perhaps had to do with Mauja’s sudden arrival? The boy certainly did seem shaken up about the Frost-King’s return. Or perhaps it was simply the manner in which it was done. Or perhaps problems of the heart, or mind? "What is it, m'boy?" Myrddin inquired in his raspy-melodic tone, kindly.