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Blake stares out the dorm window, watching the sun disappear over the skyline and the familiar shattered moon rise over Atlas.
Her time in Menagerie and Mistral had her used to starry nights, small balls of twinkling light covering the night sky.
But Atlas didn't have stars to keep her company. If she looked far off enough into the snowy tundra, she could imagine seeing a speck here or there. But the smog of Mantle and lights of Atlas hid the beauties from all of Solitas.
An offhand comment yesterday had Yang looking off deep in thought at Blake's observation.
"I think we could see some stars here, if you really miss them."
Yang's cryptic words were probably the reason why she was so late coming back.
And as if on cue, Yang walks into their dorm. A small bag is held in her hand and Blake watches a flat surface shuffle inside it as Yang tries to warm her hand.
"It's freezing out there," Yang’s teeth chatter, her face rosy red from the biting cold outside.
"Is your bag the reason you came late today?"
Yang chuckles as she reaches into the noisy plastic and pulls out a sticker sheet.
Planets, stars, and comets—all with smiling faces—stare at her as Yang waves the sheet.
"This is for all of us," Yang says in lieu of an answer and goes to their bunks. Peeling the seal off, Yang decorates the roof of their room with stickers before jumping down.
"But this one is one for you," Yang presses the last sticker onto the roof of Blake's bunk—a winking comet to keep her company.
It’s juvenile, decorating their room like this. Ruby is sure to enjoy it but Weiss was definitely going to worry about leftover residue. But Yang smiles at her, and Blake pointedly ignores the familiar way her stomach twists at that sunny smile.
“Would you like the honours?” Yang asks, hands dramatically outstretched towards the light switch.
“The pleasures all mine,” Blake says, walking over and plunging the room into darkness.
Only small wisps of light from Atlas' streets reach their window and with the moon not at its peak, only the stickers provide any real source of light.
Blake’s eyes adjust with a simple blink, but the stickers in their plastic glory shine down on them—neon green and glitter reflecting what little light they could.
"It's not like home, but it'll do. Not bad, right?"
Yang stares ahead, but Blake can see the light dusting of red on her cheeks—surely not from the cold anymore.
Yang stills when she feels slender arms wrap around her, but quickly melts into the touch and returns the hug, resting her head atop Blake’s shoulder.
"It's perfect," Blake chuckles, looking at the cartoon faces staring down at her.