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// Celestia and Luna's Existentialism: Chapter ?? (End?) 
// Story: Scrips, scraps, and other unfinished miscellania 
// by Pacific Penguin 
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The wandering reminds me. It has taken years, but it reminds me now. It reminds me of… my purpose.

There have been many races upon this world in my time. There is but emptiness now. Infernal, solitary emptiness. It could end. I could – we could – bring those celestial bodies of ours slamming into the world, uniting them all in an unholy trifecta of light, shadow, and earth… 

Or we could start again. There is sun, moon, and earth… blank slated earth. I bring a limb up in front of me, the sky acting as its backdrop. With an effort, I extend it up. On the end of it, there is activity… now, a wiggly digit exists on it. Now four more. 

They are… what should I call them? But I know before I even ask myself. They are fingers. No, claws. No… it is a paw, and they are toes. 

They will be as I, Celestia, will. It is time to create, not destroy. It’s been long enough. The world is pure.

This was for the best.

After all, from solitude, comes soul. True, refined, soul. 

This is my meaning, my purpose. To be a world builder.