#destinyghost

In young languages, we sketched for each other the seemings of stars and planets and the black between galaxies. We have devoted ourselves to listening. To the Cosmos, by crafting assemblers that can translate for us the mechanical language of Order. And to our own withins, by withstanding the howling storm until patience and humility made of chaos – if not sense, then at least peace. From beyond the emptiness, a Gardener emerged, drawn from the pseudophotons and impossible math. And our nest of colliding space dust was never the same. For it heard meaning in our roar.

"You want me to take off my shell?"

"Yeah, so it doesn't get wet."

"But ... won't I be naked?"

"You're a ghost. You don't count as being naked."

"But my shell is like my clothing."

"Look, you'll be dressed up in this floaty thing."

"I don't know about this."

Here is little Bjorn in his Hunter’s outfit,the hood was his mother’s old cape he stole. Little does his mother know that his father’s soul was made into a ghost,to repay for not being there during the pregnancy (since he died while she was in her first trimester)  He swears to protect Bjorn at all cost.