Location: Campgrounds, conveniently placed nearby an orc army.
Interacting with: Himself?
If music be the food of love, play on.
No one told the Bard:
But nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me...
Let the world pass away it mattered not. The stars above were cold and distant, brimming with terror and wonder. Wonder in that something so far away could trace out such images in the sky, and terror as the pale lights came from a world afar. These stars, these sinister stars, shimmering stars of the night, ever watching by day unseen by the light, they are his kin. Born of them, born with them, from the very moment of creation, to the minutes after conception, a star was stolen from the sky. That singularity flowed through his veins, just as a moon did now, but the next cycle of attunement had began.
In meditation his eyes closed, his mind wandering, his soul untethered, free to wander the cosmos and more so himself. Each breath in and out, the solar flares and moonbeams. The closing of his eyes an eclipse, the flushing of his skin, waxing and waning no more as health seemed to return. His body now like his being, floating, free, enlightened like his sharpened mind as the wisdom of the cosmos opened his eyes with the twinkle of the stars. Colder, more aloof and detached, opening his eyes for a moment to gaze at the strangers he had found himself in, pondering their intents, their motivations, their drives. Cutting them apart in a gross dissection of character, and moreso boiling them down to their distilled essences. And then once more he closed them to listen to the music, the music not made by Sana or Ocarina, but the music that is the silence of space.
There the next shift in alignment, the change of his tattoo for now disappeared the crescent and appeared the stars.