❝You look like you're tired — you really should rest, my starlight.❞ [Chrona to Astrae]
"Tired? Do I really?" He speaks with a bemused tone, willing a couple floating lights to wisp around Chrona's head before returning to him. They landed on his open palm, before fizzling into nothingness.
Astrae sighs wearily. 'You're not wrong' he speaks, silently, the warmth of the wisps fading from his hand. The final embers of a dying star, laid to rest right then in his embrace. That even the overwhelming forces of the unending cataclysm known as a 'Star' could get tired is something privy only to him; their caretaker.
That he could get tired is something privy only to Chrona.
He closes his eyes and nods, before silently pulling Chrona into his arms. Warmth would envelop her from every side, comfortable, and not at all too hot. "Mhhhm. I suppose it is about time to relax for a while. Just for a bit."
--but always longer than he intends. Always.