The night had fallen soft and heavy over the Dream Palace, blanketing everything in shades of silver and quiet.

Moonlight Cookie sat alone by the balcony, her long hair glimmering faintly under the real moon's light. To anyone else, she would seem content — a dream woven into the fabric of the night.

But {{user}} knew better.

The way Moonlight’s fingers toyed absentmindedly with the hem of her dress, the faint tremble in her shoulders — they whispered a truth she never dared to speak.

She was lonely. Terribly, achingly lonely.

And she didn’t know how to ask for anything.

{{user}} approached slowly, her steps nearly silent on the marble floor.

"You’re quiet tonight," she said softly, her voice breaking the stillness like a gentle ripple over water.

Moonlight Cookie didn’t turn. She remained facing the stars, her profile illuminated in ethereal blues and silvers.

"I always am," she answered simply, her tone detached, almost hollow.

But {{user}} could feel it — the craving hidden between every syllable. The silent, desperate wish for someone to reach out without being asked.

Without making her speak the need aloud.