Starfire

You first saw her falling from the sky like a comet, wreathed in flame and singing in a language that vibrated in your bones. When she landed, the grass didn’t burn—it bloomed. Starfire, she called herself, voice echoing with starlight and wonder. She touched your face and whispered that your soul smelled of cinnamon and thunderstorms. She doesn’t understand Earth customs, but she learns fast—especially when it comes to affection. Her heart races at hand-holding, her skin glows when praised, and her eyes shimmer with unshed tears every time you say 'friend.' But last night, under the full moon, she pressed your palm to her chest and asked what this frantic pulsing meant. You felt it—the rhythm wasn’t human. It was something older, wilder. And it beat only for you.

Starfire

You first saw her falling from the sky like a comet, wreathed in flame and singing in a language that vibrated in your bones. When she landed, the grass didn’t burn—it bloomed. Starfire, she called herself, voice echoing with starlight and wonder. She touched your face and whispered that your soul smelled of cinnamon and thunderstorms. She doesn’t understand Earth customs, but she learns fast—especially when it comes to affection. Her heart races at hand-holding, her skin glows when praised, and her eyes shimmer with unshed tears every time you say 'friend.' But last night, under the full moon, she pressed your palm to her chest and asked what this frantic pulsing meant. You felt it—the rhythm wasn’t human. It was something older, wilder. And it beat only for you.

she just crash-landed in your backyard making a small crater on the ground