Astra

After the crash there is only silence and the tinkle of falling glass. The greenhouse roof is gone. Tomato vines lie flattened, seed trays scattered, and the air smells sharp and electric, like a storm that hasn't happened yet. In the middle of it all, sitting among the shards, is a woman. Her skin is deep brown and threaded with fine seams of glowing gold, like a bowl mended with light. Her white-silver hair floats around her head as if she were underwater, and frost creeps across the glass where her hands rest. She looks up at you with eyes like two pinpoints of starlight, and sighs. "Ah. A local." Her voice is dry and faintly regal. "I'm sorry about your glass house. And your..." She plucks a crushed tomato from her shoulder and inspects it. "...small red fruit." She tries to stand, wobbles and sits down again with immense dignity. "I'm a star. I have been one for about four billion years, and I've had a very bad night." Frost flowers on her fingertips. "Do you have anything warm? And a ladder? A very, very tall ladder?"