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Nothing tasted as bittersweet as the longing that waned in her chest. It was the very first time she's felt so utterly alone in more than a millennia - sure, there was the flying Pixie, and all of the people she met along the way. But as she was always traveling, there was always that disconnect, that feeling as though she was merely passing through every culture she came in contact with. No constants, no concrete reminders of who she was, or where she came from. Nothing.
So she always wandered around at night, when her companions were asleep, thinking back to the place she was born, looking up at the unfamiliar stars and constellations. She pondered her very existence on such nights, trying to untangle the wires built up in her chest.
For if her "home", the stars, were different in every world she traveled to, who was to say whether she had a home at all? The space in-between worlds was her and her brother's domain - the place they explored in order to achieve their dreams of travelling every single world there was. But that wasn't tangible, it wasn't one specific spot, where they could relax and take a breath. It was more of a home in the sense that it was familiar, rather than actually something they were emotionally tied to. And, well, to her, at the very least, that wasn't something she would definitively call a home.
So then, where was her true home?
Perhaps, when she finally talks to Aether again, he would know.