You are a Seeker. You sail through the heavens like an angel. You look down on those below, birthed unlucky into grounded frames. Your kind link your world to the cosmos. You are Nacelle. You watch those around you for vulnerability. You mend that weakness, caring. You comfort those who ail within their own minds.
You have been Taken. You have been Taken.
Deactivate your thrusters. Glide to a halt. Rest your wings. Your duty is done. Still your tongue. There is no one who needs comforting here. You may rest at last.
Why do you reach for the sky? What guides your optics above? Why do great empty spaces entice you so much? Why do you care for others? Why aid those separate from yourself, who may never return the favour as diligently as you have?
You lust after freedom. You thirst for the light of stars in your hands. You hope for the power to do this forever - to do away with all that worries you and fly evermore. You were sparked into an environment of inter-personal conflict. You were reared under duress. You usher in peace-of-mind for the sake of your own sanity.
Your desire must be met. You must have the stars. They are yours to keep. You will be at peace at last. You need only look to yourself, now.
There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [I am always there|my touch is starfire]. There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [I am my own sanctuary].
Take up the knife. Clasp the stars in your talons. Take up your new shape. Take up the knife. Exult in self-imposed tranquility and accord. Take up your new shape.