A/N: Happy holidays, one and all!

I haven't really been active since finishing my novel, partially because I've been writing stories as Christmas gifts to my friends. One of them is THIS! I started working on it just 'cause I wanted to do a fairyland-fantasy-esque AU, and then I came up with the revel scene, and then the Commonershipping. And then I knew I had to gift this to the wonderful and talented fanfic writer, Dia Newman!

(So, Dia, if you're reading this...hi! I know I don't review your stories often, but the things I've read I've really liked. And you always leave me encouraging hilarious reviews so thank you so much for that! It means a lot that you like my stories. Here's a little something since you're always so nice to me - & remember to keep on writing!)

Anyways, I hope y'all like this story. Not very festive, but it's the holiday season! May your days be merry and bright, no matter what holiday you celebrate!
It also includes my OC, Poppy. Sorry if ya don't like OCs, I just put her in because I stick her with Pearl and I just felt like adding in someone. This story is a little out-there anyways. It might just surprise you. Or you might just think I'm super-weird, because how does POKEMON get turned into THIS? Regardless, hope you enjoy.

Rant over! Read on!
-Silvia

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or anything else

Moonlit Escapades

The clock's morbidly slow ticking was mocking her.

The floors were cold, the chair was warm, and the library vibrated with a low hum of voices as her lessons for the day set with the sun. Instructors and advisors drifted away, leaving her reading alone, everything going according to the pristine schedule.

Her feet itched to dance. Expertly weaving through the overwhelming halls, books long forgotten, she could almost hear a beat in her heart. Reaching her room, the smell of cotton filling her, she kicked off her bulky, pinching, fancy shoes gratefully. Locked the door. Put on the dress. Slipped on the simple ballet slippers. Wrapped herself in a cloak—one that looked like a piece torn from the hem of night's skirts.

Excitement bubbled in her, the forbidden, secret feelings hyper within her. Her hands had been crafted for pens and harps and looms, her body for divine dresses, her placid, porcelain face for confrontation. What else was she to do with her delicate feet than dance?

Her dress was hidden well beneath the cloak. She looked for all the world like she was going on a twilit stroll through the gardens. No one stopped her. A few gardeners even sent her friendly waves, which she returned in her usual charming, polite manner. Oh, for all of authority's travesties, there were definite benefits.

No one noticed that her meandering cut abruptly onto a forest path. No one noticed her slip a mask out from the folds of her cloak.

The piercing cry of chiming bells—which at first had been quite unsettling—inclined his ear to pay the music its rightful attention.

He honestly had only come for his friend, who had a bad habit of literally running into people, picking unnecessary fights, and dragging others into problems. For instance, parties.

"Dia!" called the aforementioned companion, Pearl. "Come. Enjoy yourself."

Oh, how the tables had turned. Diamond smiled pleasantly. "I'm content where I am." Which was far from the dancing floor.

It used to be that Pearl would stand beside him, if they attended revels at all. Diamond would enjoy music or the food or find something positive to talk about (usually food). Pearl would grumble about how silly parties were, how foolish dancing was, how overall repulsive such petty matters were. Diamond had always known Pearl was only bitter because he lacked the coordination, patience, looks, and comely women that the "pretty boys" had. But Pearl was able to outrun even envy when he'd discovered Poppy. Scarred, imperfect, and calm, Poppy was just so much more than other ladies. She was the tintinnabulation of soft bells to Pearl's rapid violin melodies. Honey to his tea. The cerulean blue to his raging orange—quite literally, looking at the colours of their clothes.

"Certainly?" she asked Diamond. He nodded, and Pearl whisked her back into the crowd of dancers.

Diamond did not feel like an unnecessary third part of a machine requiring two, for he and Pearl would always remain the best of comrades, even with Poppy now. And Diamond had agreed to come in the first place. If not for the food, then for the atmosphere.

The lanterns illuminated the forest with a warm, light glow, as if they were aiding the sprinkle of stars appearing and the rising, pure white moon. The vast clearing was intruded by only a few trees and the revelers. The forest that contained it was not sinister and imposing with its tall trees, but rather earthy and lush. Flowers dotted the scene—astonishing even if they had been conjured purposely.

It was one of the infamous dryads' balls, held on the full moon, when they could leave their host trees. A wide variety of species were invited to the masquerade—even humans, many of whom were not even aware that they danced alongside monsters.

Diamond's own mask felt unnatural on his face. He was overly-conscious of the strings tied round his head to hold it in place, as well as where the mask was as he ate.

Ever more self-conscious was he when his eyes met those of a lady sipping nectar on the outskirts of the ball.

His eyes were gems.

She could see them between his beautiful, swirling onyx mask. But his eyes—they were even more of treasures. Bright and blue and locked onto her gaze.

She had just arrived at the event as the sun's last rays died. She had attended the nymphs' balls before, but seldom in recent times. Finally, she had found a night that she could, and she'd warn a new dress, mask, and slippers for the occasion. She'd gone to where refreshments were first, and was surprised to find the startling young man there as well.

It wasn't that he was unordinary; his head was average, though he was a bit on the broad side. His dark clothes were nice, but not extraordinary. Still, something about him—maybe the eyes, or that he wasn't dancing, or his clumsy, humble air—made her curious.

Even so, she came to dance. The stars were poking their heads out from their doors, the night was young and electric. The music was ethereal; cricket chirps, string instruments, whistles, bells, and makeshift percussion. For some numbers, a singer or two or five joined in, in varying languages.

Abandoning her drink and the gaze of the interesting boy, she joined the crowd.

Now she would dance.

Her eyes had been marvelous metal.

Molten gold and swirling silver combined, the warm amber tones more prominent, they were entrancing beneath her mask. Her dress was cut above the knee, fit for dancing. It was a tasteful pink, one he couldn't have conjured in his mind before, but he could now not think of a more fitting colour. Her skirts were like petals, the bodice modest but complimenting. Her mask matched to a tee, as did the graceful ballet shoes. He tried not to stare at her lithe, lucid movements as she danced.

He tore his gaze from the spellbinding girl. He wasn't looking for a lady. If he were, why, he would pursue the girls whose faces seemed more beautiful beneath their masks, whose bodies were without flaw. But those ladies would not pursue him—doughy and faulty as he was—and he'd rather someone he could have a real conversation with. Poppy was always saying that a few of her friends might be good matches for him, anyways.

He strayed from the refreshments a bit. He strode laps about the scene—near the outskirts, near the dancers, near the stage where the music overflowed and poured into the forest surely, sweetly, like honey. Pearl and Poppy caught him in his trails and pulled him in to dance. He obliged. The three of them spun in circles and galloped and pirouetted and chassed, all in their little triangle. He would have liked to do more, but the other two had been dancing for quite and bit and needed a quick break. As he drifted from the crowd, he did not see the graceful girl in the pink dress and the ballet slippers until she had stepped directly into his path, into his view, into his heart.

She said, "Might you dance with me?"

She was not sure just what had possessed her to ask him to dance.

She had spied him gallivanting about with two companions, who were breathless and had disappeared in search of the refreshments, which were now getting far more attention than earlier in the evening. And she had seen him standing alone again and had felt so confident, but that resolve now crumbled fast.

After a pause, when he looked about to say something, she added quickly, "It isn't usually the lady who asks, is it?" She had never asked anyone to dance at the revels. She had danced in the close proximity of lads occasionally, but never technically with someone. The only times she had had dance partners was at stuffy, official balls she had been forced to go to. She'd been squeezed into tight corsets and heeled shoes that pinched her feet. She hadn't ever asked someone to dance, there, either. They had been presented to her. So she probably had just been improper and strange and now the kind-looking boy with startling, pretty eyes would think she was mad.

But he smiled and she froze. "Maybe," he said. "Or maybe it is whoever has the more courage. Shall we try again?" Gingerly, carefully, he took her hand and raised it a bit. "Might you dance with me?"

He was a complete buffoon.

She was brave and held herself proudly, and here he was, an absolute goon. Not only had he just been so dreadfully silly, but he probably looked about as nervous as he felt.

She seemed mildly surprised—as far as he could tell by her eyes beneath the mask. She paused, then decided. "Surely."

He knew, roughly, how to dance. But he was terribly clumsy. Thankfully, the music had slipped into a smooth, rhythmic waltz. Some of the fast dances he wasn't quick enough for, and he wouldn't know what to do during a slow, uncertain song, so he was glad for the moderate tempo as eh led his partner to the crowd and took up the steady waltz. Some others waltzed too, but he noticed other dances mixed in as well. Some of the nymphs had begun performing some strange movements involving arms waving and hips slinking and a decent amount of spinning.

As far as his own partner, well, she was incredible. Fearless, she twirled and pranced and made not one mistake. Diamond tripped over his own feet more than once, but she didn't made note of it. In fact, she didn't speak at all until the music slowed and a final chord pierced the thrumming air. Surely, surely.

"Perhaps I'll see you again?" And that was all that was spoken before she vanished in the mess of dancers.

One mere girl among many. Two insignificant dangers in thrall to the music, lost easily in the crowd. Unremarkable but to one another. Diamond was certain that far more interesting things had happened that night, things far more noteworthy. Surely, surely, something somewhere happened that was far more important than his meeting the girl.

But as the music took to a new shape, as a song build castles and cathedrals under the moon's watchful eye, it was important to him. The lingering ghost of a dancer remained with him for some moments more. Irrelevant to anyone else, but captivating to Diamond. It was the excitement of meeting someone new and intriguing. He didn't dance often, he thought as he located Pearl and Poppy, but he was glad he had that night.

She had lost herself dancing.

She knew this as she trailed through the dark forest all by her lonesome. The magical music was muffled now, tinkling away in the distance. But she could sense her unusual feelings beating alongside the rhythm of her pulse, the rhythm of the songs. Surely it wasn't all created by her mind; she knew her mind well. It was logical and rational and everything of the same flavour—mistakes, insecurities, and fantasies were not tolerated. The boy was so endearingly simple. Her curiosity could not have been without reason.

She straightened her back and trotted home. Surely, surely as the waltz's beat.

The following month was a long and winding road that she only walked because of the promise of its end.

The next full moon.

Every time it wound its way into her mind, she pushed it away. The thought of the masquerade was a whole spiderweb of a daydream—one that she did not intend on being tangled up in. If she dwelled on it, she might be addicted to the ideas of what could be. The month might drag for even longer. She might build her citadel of hopes too high.

Still, on the night before the full moon, she allowed her head to submerge in a sea of "what if"s.

It was then that she raided her closet, scavenging her garments for a suitable dress to pair with some slippers and a mask. She had many options, and still found herself examining them as if she were searching for one fresh apple amid a basket of poisoned ones. She had heard other ladies sigh dramatically that they could not possibly find the right outfit to wear, and what she once thought was silly and frivolous, she now found true. Gowns were out of the lineup; she had some women in long numbers at the dryads' ball, but they mostly disabled dancing. She scoured, then, shorter dresses for a colour she liked. Pink she had worn at the last revel. Blue—not her first or favourite choice. Green—didn't compliment her. Metallics—seemed cheap-looking and unnecessary in the earthy forestscape. Black—dismal. Red—violent. White—she had none. Why was that? Orange—loud and unflattering. Violet it was, then.

The following day, she boxed away no anticipation and let it flow free. Her feet tapped softly beneath tables, to the beat of her mind's music. When she was alone, or suspected as much, she twirled and gamboled about. And she had to admit, this newfound giddiness caught her off-guard. Effervescent and evanescent though it was, she didn't mind it. In fact…it was a refreshing change from her usual monotonous emotions.

When eh lessons let out, when her daily duties had been fulfilled, she was a bird freed from her cage. Into her chambers, into her dress, her mask, she shoes, her cloak, into the gardens. She wondered if the gardeners would catch onto her vanishing at dusk on the full moon. But she'd been too eager to let this moon slip by. She'd not planned anything for the evening on purpose.

She was earlier, this night. The sky was still rosy as she made her way through the forest. The music was already thrumming, strong and jubilant. The songs were playing before she came and after she left; they seemed never to stop.

Her heart was just another of the fireflies she saw as she stepped into the scene; jittery, flitting, flickering, glowing. Her emotions lit her path. She allowed herself to be engulfed by the crowd of dancers, she allowed herself to the lost in the music. And when a considerable amount of time had ticked by, she allowed herself to look for the boy she had met at the last revel.

She hadn't let herself even think of him before. He'd been her dance partner for a spell; merely this and nothing more. But now that she was in the forest, she couldn't focus enough not to search for him. Beating around the bush, she trailed over to the refreshments nonchalantly. Her eyes wandered, and—there he was. She was unable to put her finger on what the strange feeling she felt was. It was almost akin to being pricked with a needle, but in her heart. For he was speaking to a young lady with feathery hair and in a garnet-coloured garment. They didn't quite have the air of a couple, but—

A young man hastened to join the two, and she realised that these were the two he had danced with before her during the last moon. After an exchange of words that periodically monitored over the candy she was picking at, the two trotted off to dance together. Leaving the clumsily cute boy to stand awkwardly alone. Deserting the dulcet sweets and pushing down her doubts, she approached him. "You came again," she observed lamely.

He smiled a smile containing only felicity. "Were you hoping I would?" His voice held no mischief, only the actual question. She wasn't sure if she'd ever met someone so cluelessly honest.

But instead of answering, she said, "Do you not feel odd standing here? Would you not rather dance? …With me?"

That stupidly sweet smile. "It would be my honour."

The polka that was playing was complicated and overflowing with intricate steps—all of which Diamond's companion seemed to know while he fumbled and stumbled the entire time. At first, this was mortifying, before eh realised that he was no the only one by a longshot, and that it made his partner giggle mellifluously, a sound more enchanting than even the celestial music.

Then passed a quick, upbeat song to which they swung each other about, hopping and tapping aimlessly. And after that—a ballad.

Diamond could feel the nerves spike within him as the tempo slowed. But the girl didn't back down. She stepped towards him as if it were the most natural thing to do, and set her hands on his shoulders. Carefully, he held her waist. They stepped to the largo beat, swaying along with the other masquerade guests. Pixies twirled overhead, some of the nymphs linked arms and skipped about together. Diamond caught a glimpse of Pearl and Poppy; wrapped in each others arms, Poppy resting her head against Pearl's shoulder.

Diamond looked into the molten eyes of the girl before him. "What's your name?" he asked, without much ceremony.

"Platina," she answered. Platina. He could feel that name poke its way into his heart and settle there. "And yours?"

"Diamond."

"Tell me, Diamond—tell me about yourself."

She hadn't realised that they'd talked and danced through the night until the music quieted and bells chimed twelve times—midnight. It was likely that her absence would go unnoticed, but the passage of time still made her anxious.

But the boy before her—Diamond—somehow made that risk worthwhile. He was not mysterious or brooding or confident, or anyone of the things that made the other girls at the palace swoon. In fact, he seemed to be the opposite. There was nothing he held back, to the point where he would say too much too quickly, stagger over his words embarrassingly, and the tips of his ears would be dusted with rogue.

"Does it unnerve you, being here?" she asked. "I'll admit…even I am slightly intimidated sometimes with the company here." Meaning the eclectic groups of monsters gathered.

"Honestly?" He was always honest. "It does, a bit. But I know I'm not in danger."

That was the one thing he didn't say: what he was.

"Dia!" called a voice as the folk song playing came to an end. The young man with the blazing ocher eyes came bolting over. He stopped short when he noticed that Diamond had been dancing. "Oh. My apologies. I didn't mean to interrupt, but I believe I'll need to steal Dia—no, Diamond. We should be making our leave."

"That's right," Diamond said, turning to her. "I'm sorry. I'll be going."

She nodded, understanding. But before he left, he whirled around to meet her eyes again. "Sometimes I walk in this forest. Maybe I'll run into you before the next moon."

Seeing this chance, she said, "I do as well, usually around twilight. Wouldn't it be uncanny if we crossed paths?"

Diamond smiled before he waved and truly fled the revel.

Diamond, still unsure of how he had let any of this happen, waited before sunset of the following night in the clearing where the masquerades were held.

He had known he was thickheaded, but not this foolish. He didn't know if Platina would even show up, in the forest or in the clearing, and yet here he was, unmasked and everything.

Diamond knew that love was a dangerous thing. He only had to look at Pearl and Poppy to see it. Pearl's family was minor nobility—low enough in rank to allow his friendship with a commoner like Dia, but still nobility. They had been pushing him to court proper women for a long time, unaware that his heart belonged to Poppy. His family would be aghast enough if she was just a common girl of their own, but she was a faerie. They never would permit the relationship, but Pearl and Poppy had fallen too far to end things themselves.

He hardly knew Platina. She was elusive and mysterious and maybe being with her was just a bit dangerous. But sometimes she smiled—and he wanted to see that warmth. He had a feeling that she was hiding her true self, the one that beamed and grinned and laughed, and he wanted to learn about her. He wanted to know her. But at what cost?

He heard rustling in the brush in front of him. And then, there she was.

He hadn't known what would happen when he saw her again. But his heart thudded in his chest, and he found himself suddenly nervous. There she stood, her long, dark hair billowing in the breeze, breathless—she must have been rushing to see him. He tried to suppress the glow that that thought brought to his heart.

And she wore no mask.

Diamond had never been able to imagine her features, but the face that she wore in place of a mask fit her so perfectly that he was unable to imagine her looking any other way. He wondered what she thought about his own round face.

Diamond offered her a demure smile, just for her, and she stepped forth. "My apologies. I—it took me some time to get away."

"That's fine." He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, or what to say. But Platina did, apparently. She bit her lip, and, as if on an impulse, closed the distance between them in a few light-footed strides. Then, she took hold of his shoulders, almost as if they were about to dance, and she kissed him.

Diamond was weightless, suspended thousands of feet off of the ground. The feeling was instantly addictive. Only a scintilla of doubts wavered with in him now. He found himself gently pulling her closer, and when they broke away, he drifted slowly down from the high.

"That—that wasn't very polite of me," she observed bluntly. "I don't ordinarily greet people in that way."

"I don't ordinarily meet pretty ladies in the forest," Diamond replied. He wouldn't have had the will to kiss her. It only further proved that she was braver than him.

"You…think that I'm pretty?" Platina's eyes were almost incredulous, although her expression didn't shift. It seemed as though she wasn't honestly told that often.

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes. I do. Far too pretty for me." They still stood close enough that he could feel her warmth. He watched her eyes, so different from the rest of her. Everything about her was wintry; her quiet demeanour, her onyx hair, her pale skin, and yet, those eyes were glittering metallic. That may have made them seem harsh, but the way that she gazed at him was soft and sweet and special.

Their fugacious time together was shattered by approaching forces; at first, susurrous as the whistling wind, but sharp and blaring.

"Lady!" voices shouted. "Missy!"

"I'm so sorry," Platina said, her expression the picture of alarm and regret. "Those will be the guards. I must go. But I will find you again." She hesitated, reluctant to make her leave. As she turned, her dark hair floating in such an elegant manner that it was almost unfair—did she have to be so constantly graceful?

Diamond froze when he heard one of the voices shout, "Your Highness!" as Platina ducked through the trees. He knew that title. He knew what it meant. He knew it meant high nobility, and he knew all of the weight that it carried.

Had Diamond just kissed a human princess?

He tried to assure himself that it was not so bad. She at least knew that he might not be human himself—after all, she'd seemed to know fully well that not all of the revelers were mortal when she'd asked him if that scared him.

Oh no.

She would hate him.

Those eyes of hers, so intense and guarded, would no longer look to him in the way that they did. And he…he wouldn't meet another girl like her. He didn't want another girl like her. He wanted her. He knew it was irrational and spontaneous, but he had never felt the way that he did.

He waited for her for the next few nights. The first night, nothing. The second and third, nothing.

The fourth night, she met him again, but it was clear it was difficult for her to break away to meet him. Her parting words were: "Until the next full moon." Where was she coming from? Who was she?

Just what the hell had he gotten himself into?

She knew that she was putting him in danger, but she had to go to the ball. She had to see him once more. And seeing him, standing there, patient and comforting and there for her—she had to stay, even if she was instinctively pulled him into her mess. It was a mistake. They would only both end up wounded. It was so wickedly selfish, but the one thing that she was sure of was that she needed him. She hoped for one fugacious moment that maybe she and Diamond could escape, could be an exception.

But any bright wish was shattered by the flaming appearance of the angels. She watched in horror as creatures dropped their glamour spells and showed their true colours, their true features. The dryads tried to protect their guests—particularly the ignorant humans—ensuring them that there would be no fight. But chaos had erupted. Angels angrily unleashed their feathery wings as a sign of provocation, scouring the site. Demons in the crowd flapped their own dark, fleshy wings in response, raising hexed blades. The eternal music now ceased as musicians and dancers and beasts scrambled from the stage. She did not remember tripping, slipping, or being pushed; but the next thing she knew, she was falling through the air. Diamond was right there to catch her.

"Why are angel soldiers here?" he yelled over the noise.

"It must be an attack on the demons," a voice replied, assured. She was startled to find that Diamond's two friends had flocked to him. "Those two are always fighting. I don't understand why; they're both Watchers. They both overlook the happenings of the earthy world, just from the skies and ground respectively. Their ridiculous rivalry is both their faults. The angels are convinced the demons are sinister, and the demons believe the angels to be stuck-up. Of course, it's partially true…"

"But both angels and demons are allowed at the revels," the girl at his side reasoned. "You know that, Pearl. They're invited as friends of the dryads. Angels wouldn't risk putting innocents at risk."

"Don't get your wings in a twist, Poppy. Maybe you're right."

"Regardless, this isn't the time," Diamond said. "We need to leave." He looked to her, those wonderful eyes of his imploring her to come with him, to flee quickly.

Her heart was seized with fear. It wasn't the demons the angels wanted.

It was her.

She recognised the uniforms that the angels wore. They were guards. And, there, beside one of the strongest was one of the palace's gardeners. He had to have been a spy, or one who squealed. He pointed to her—the guards drew closer.

"Platina?" Diamond asked tentatively. She removed the mask from her face. There was no use hiding. Not anymore.

She looked to Diamond sadly. "I'm so very sorry. I just…I wanted to be with you, and I didn't consider the risk." Her instincts begged her to run, or to fight. Instead, she took steps towards the guards.

"Platinum Berlitz," Diamond could hear one of the guards bark, and that was when he knew.

Platinum. Of course, of course, of course. He knew the name Platina sounded vaguely familiar. As soon as he heard her full name, he made the connection. Her entrancing metallic eyes, her long dark hair, her air of grace and elegance.

"You're…Platinum Berlitz?" he said thickly. "You're the princess of the angels."

The look that she gave him…she looked like she thought she had lost him, then and there. But there was no way to describe how he felt. He still cared about her, he did. The two of them…they just couldn't be together, and it was wrenching his heart into two.

"I am." Gone was that dark, elusive air that she had put up. Now it was as if her own heart were before him; open, bleeding, beating still to the tune of the nymphs' music, now silent.

Then—a scream. It pierced through the air, through that everlasting beating. Dia watched helplessly as someone—an angel, a demon, it didn't matter—accidentally hit Poppy with a curse. Fighting. They were fighting. Pearl rushed to Poppy's side; blood was already beading on her pale skin. Diamond felt rage rise within him, and this time, he didn't shove it back. He tore his own mask from his face. He stepped in front of Platinum, in front of his friends and stood his ground. And then she let the beast within take over.

He couldn't control it when his wings split out from his back. He didn't try. His powers flared—the powers that he was always trying so hard to suppress, to push down, to bury. He knew what he must have looked like; despite his formerly kind demeanour, he was a creature straight out of nightmares. He was poison to the forest's dreamy landscape. His wings, ugly and dark and vile and akin to that of a bat.

And yet, with pulses of dark magic, she managed to fend off any attackers long enough to glance over his shoulder and see Platinum's reaction. It was just as he suspected; a look of absolute horror. Horror, disgust, terror.

Diamond couldn't bear it any longer. At least he was the monster who protected her, not the one who betrayed her. But then he saw light, and there she was beside him. Her own wings trailed behind her, light and feathery and so fitting that he wondered how he ever thought her dangerous. She raised her hands, her metallic eyes now calm and steady as the light emitted from her, pushing back pursuers.

Platinum met his eyes. "I'll renounce my title."

He shook his head. "You cannot do that. I don't believe that's what you really want. Your people need you."

"I may be princess now," she said, "but one day I will be queen. Then it will be I who constructs the rules of my kingdom." She straightened, lifting her chin defiantly. "And no law shall cage my heart." She leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheeks. "I will find you again, Diamond. This I swear."

Platinum let her guard down and willingly went with the angel soldiers, urging them away from the revel.

She wouldn't run away. Not anymore. Alongside the guards, she flew, returning to the castle. Somehow, in the air, flying out of the forest, to the gardens, high into the sky to the palace in the clouds, she could feel everything that the Watchers reigned over. Time, space, earth, life. All of it. And in all of it, she felt a constant beat, like that of a heart, like that of a drum. Surely, surely, beating on.