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“Do you think there’s anything up there?” Astoria asks, looking at the stars. Luna’s head is in her lap. The grounds of the chateau overlook rolling fields of lavender, speckled with the warm lights of muggle houses.
“Oh, of course,” Luna says.
“I mean in terms of the metaphysical,” Astoria clarifies, and Luna looks up at her with a smile. Astoria likes their conversations. She had not been raised to ask questions; it’s good to have someone to wonder with.
“Still yes,” Luna says. “Although I don’t think it’s something we can really hope to understand. I think it’s like when I put an alihotsy root sandwich out in the moonlight every night for a week, just to see what would happen. One night, it sprouted legs, and walked away. Oh, look!”
Astoria looks up just in time to see a shooting star streak across the sky. It almost looks as if it’ll hit the ground, but it fades out just before the horizon line. She knows they’re fairly common, but to see one here, with Luna, feels momentous.
“So we’re the sandwich,” Astoria muses, brushing a tendril of Luna’s hair out of her face.
“We’re the sandwich,” Luna agrees.