Sunset through a window

Moth wasn't, by and large, a child used to staying inside. Before they'd arrived in this strange new world, they'd been prone to roaming with no fixed abode. To an extent, that was still how they tended to conduct themself, but there was a key difference.

Their dear rediscovered sibling, Shy, had introduced them to a place that was quite new to them. A home, one that contained a warmth both in a literal sense and of being lived in and loved. There was no sign of time wearing it down, no cracks or grime, no husk remains of previous occupants to dodge while scavenging. Was this what homes in Hallownest had been like before the festerglow?

While they made a point not to rely on it too much - they didn't want to lose their edge - they had been slipping in more and more often as the days and nights bit colder. They were chilly themself by nature, but their bonded companions were not, and they felt it was the responsible thing to do to seek somewhere warm for them. That it meant sibling time was a pleasant double benefit.

This evening, they had actually felt the need for some space by themself for a while, though. They were still getting used to actually having others around to socialise with, and that was a work in progress. Peering out at the darkening sky, Moth watched the sunset through the frost-laced glass of the window. They still hadn't gotten used to the sunset - it was amazing, watching the entire sky changing and shifting through so many hues as the light dipped down behind the horizon. It was almost sacred, though they weren't sure in quite what way, and it brought them a strange sense of peace, watching the star-speckled expanse of night swallowing up the last rays of the sun.