They met beneath an unyielding sky, where the stars whispered forgotten truths. The council, a blend of minds shaped by both gravity and dreams.
“What is the fabric of our ambitions?” the elder astronaut murmured, voice just above a whisper, as if to avoid breaking the celestial spell.
“Threads of light sewn into the night,” another replied, gaze fixed on a point far beyond their terrestrial confines.
Here, the dialogues found themselves drifting along the nebulas of thought. No answers, perhaps. Only the solace of shared odysseys.