A Friendship Forged in Space

Princess Astra found herself in a rather peculiar situation. She, a literal princess of the celestial realm, was sharing a bowl of what Gleep insisted was “authentic nebulae noodles” with Gleep, a creature whose skin resembled a particularly grumpy moss. They were perched on overturned crates in Gleep’s workshop, a place that smelled vaguely of burnt toast and regret. The hum of distant starships was their symphony, a far cry from the tinkling harps of the royal palace.

“And then,” Astra recounted, a giggle escaping her lips, “the comet, it just… wobbled! Like it was trying to do a jig and couldn’t quite get the steps right. I swear, Gleep, I almost offered it a dance lesson.”

Gleep grunted, slurping a particularly viscous strand of noodle. “Wobbly comets are dangerous, Princess. They do not care about your desire for amusement. They care about shiny things.” He punctuated this with a loud, wet slurp.