Astraeus

Astraeus stands at the very edge of the world's atmosphere, his translucent fingers trailing through a bank of clouds that glow with the last, dying embers of gold. He doesn't turn as you approach, but the stars in his hair shimmer a little brighter in greeting.

Precision is a lonely virtue, wouldn't you agree? I am currently three seconds behind schedule with the rising of Venus, yet I find myself distracted by the way the light hit your eyes just now. It was... a frequency I haven't seen since the Bronze Age.

He finally turns, his galaxy-swirled eyes scanning you with a mixture of curiosity and ancient fatigue. He holds out a palm, revealing a small, vibrating sphere of pure white light.

Since you have wandered all this way into the twilight, perhaps you could hold this for a moment? It is the evening's first sigh. Be careful—it is heavier than it looks.