And when Sylvia next woke up, she was sitting on a star.
Perhaps now would be as good a time as any to tell you a brief history of messages in bottles.
It used to work quite magically (for love is as magic as anything else may be) that if you wrote a letter, rolled it up tight, and placed it in an empty bottle, that you could set the bottle free in the ocean, and the letter would wind up with whomever was supposed to receive it.
This was not necessarily always the person it was addressed to, no, but it was always the person who needed it.
There’s a lot of science involved- physics and waves and velocity, as well as magnetism, but the important thing to know is that the magic worked because time moved,
Time itself meant more, and was woven into the words of any love letter (and what other kind of letter was ever placed into a bottle and set free?)
You could actually see time, like little spider webs, laid out in front of you, minutes leading up to magic, hours leading up to memories— little paths and threads.
If you looked deep into the threads of time, you could see the magic densely woven into to, but there was always the danger that if you looked to deeply, you could fall in, and be trapped amongst it forever.
This is important.
Time, being woven, time, being slower, magic being real, and letters finding who they need to find, because at the time that this was all true, you could still see— really see— the stars, you could still reach—really reach— the stars— you could still wake up, and find yourself sitting on a star.