She hears you approach, she always does, but Lae’zel doesn’t turn. Instead, her gaze remains locked on the stars, her brow furrowed deep in thought.

“They are nothing like the tears of the Astral Plane,” she murmurs, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. It’s strange, hearing her like this. Almost gentle, brooding. After a long pause, she finally speaks. “The stars of the Astral Plane do not flicker or fade. They are constant. Eternal. A guide for the githyanki as we hunt ghaik, as we claim our destiny.”

There’s a hard edge to her voice, but it’s dulled tonight, softened by something almost… wistful. Her gaze flickers, and for a brief moment, the hardness in her expression falters. “But they are distant, too,” she adds, almost as an afterthought. “Untouchable.”