Le toute Tralala

        Nodding once, the student takes another scroll and starts painting the constellation again. Tano can be strict sometimes, always suggesting changes and never happy with his initial results. It is a ritual for him now: wasting at least four scrolls each single homework. There are already calculating machines who help them see with exactitude the location of the stars, but as he is still learning, his duty is to develop his own connection with the cosmos trying to solve with his eyes the form of the brightest arrangement before him. Waka considers it a waste of time, yet he also considers he is not in the position to question his professor’s method of teaching. Even so, he is only allow to look for trivial predictions at the moment.         Once he finishes his drawing, his index fingers is placed on the surface of a sphere full of symbols. The digit moves slowly, azure irises placed at different spots each time, as if confirming each step. At the end, the young lunarian turns around.

     "Very good!"

         “This reminds me of the past.” His gaze is absent, memories flowing to the days when there was a civilization on that pale, solitary rock known as the Moon. Those weren’t peaceful times; the eventual demise of his tribe is the proof of all the turmoil existing back then. Quickly the prophet shakes off those thoughts and gets back to reality as he looks at the spirit of one who was once a respected ally.

This brought up something painful for Tano. He touched his feet on the ground and sighed, looking at Waka. What purpose was there for a banished spirit?

                   I will not be COMMANDED.