We've had two more little parties for Celestine. From what I've been able to translate, they are indeed birthday parties. My thinking is bound by the body's capabilities, so I haven't exactly been able to reliably count the days between each party. They are longer than an Earth year, for sure. Celestine has the body of someone who is about seven or eight years old and only had four birthday parties. The humans of this world must hit puberty at around six years and full adulthood in about ten. So we're two-fifths of the way there.

Over the last two years I've come to a solemn realization. I can't just kick this girl's soul out of the body and take it. It's not fair and I'm not that heartless. Okay, I lied. I tried to kick her out. But I have no idea how. I can take limited control of her body while she's asleep. That's about it. As she's gotten older, I've lost the ability to wrench control of the body. I can only share her sensations. Maybe if I had been aware when she was even younger I could have overpowered her, but I can no longer. This is not my body. This is Celestine's body. So I need to start thinking of it in this way. That being the case, I should make myself known to her. If she gets older, she might overpower me even without knowing the lone hitchhiker just along for the ride was even there. It would be nice to have some sort of mutual relationship with my roommate.

So today I decided to speak up while she and her mother were doing housework. Apparently the house doesn't look like a dust-ridden shack all the time. Only when a sandstorm blasts through the area, which it had the day before I gained awareness. Mother cleans up really nicely. Not a single speck of dust or sand to be seen. While Celestine was working on holding a curtain while Mother patched it up with a bone needle and thread, I spoke softly, "GOOD MORNING CELESTINE! YOU'RE DOING A GOOD JOB HELPING YOUR MOTHER!" Or I intended to speak softly. I ended up shouting. I am not used to this, okay?

The sudden contact made her recoil her arms, pulling the curtain her mother was still working on. A small rip sounded right before Celestine screamed and held her ears, closing her eyes. I don't know what Mother is saying, but I can feel arms around the body now, trying to comfort her and figure out what's wrong. Celestine speaks in blubbered cries, nothing Mother would be able to make out.

"SorRY! I DIDN't mean to SHOUT!" I tried to say, but my volume was up and down and it scared her even more.

She managed to get out, "Momma! Someone's shouting!" Tears staining her cheek, her hands are starting to hurt from holding her ears so tightly.

Mother said a few words to try to calm her down before picking her up, arm under her bottom and resting her body against her shoulder. She's getting a bit too big for this, Mother. It might be better to carry her in a princess carry? We're already out the door, I can feel the heat of the day bleeding into the body. At least we were already wearing decent clothing. I can feel the walking pace as Celestine bounces up and down against Mother. She's moving faster than normal, but can't run with a child in her arm. I can't see anything, though, because Celestine has her eyes closed shut. Hearing is back, though. She wrapped her arms around Mother's neck to help support herself.

It's no surprise where we're going. I don't even have to guess. A child suddenly hearing voices no one else can hear? To the church. Most of the healing happens at the church. Over the last few years, I noticed that this city is deeply religious. The church is indeed the tallest building in the city and is built right in the center in the middle of a plaza at the crossroads. We've been to many church services and Mother visits frequently to pay the church workers a stipend for something. She seems to owe them a debt that can't easily be repaid, so she's paying back in small amounts. I hope debt isn't inheritable in this world. It would be a shame if Celestine ends up needing to owe for Mother's choices. It would be a shame if Mother is currently owing for her parents' choices... it's a church, but it isn't too charitable.

I still don't know where she gets her money from. Every seven days she visits the bank for a small bag of coins and then immediately goes to the church to pay some of it to them. The rest goes to living essentials and a book on rare occasion to teach Celestine how to read. Are you on some sort of maternity leave, Mother? We're old enough to take care of ourselves if you need to work. Or... well... I just complicated things didn't I?

I feel the rush of cool air flow over Celestine's back. She opened her eyes a bit to see the stone doors of the church close behind us. I listened to her thoughts a bit. She wanted to turn around to look at the artwork on the church again, but was too frightened by the voice to move. She really likes the artwork of the church. I mean, sure, it's pretty. But I'm more interested in the glowing light crystals. I guess you can't expect a child that grew up with electric lights to marvel at them when compared to beautiful depictions of stars and personified constellations on the ceiling.

The religion is something I only know bits and pieces of because Celestine's attention has never been on the preachers when her and Mother attend the odd service. It's always on the people, clothes, and art. But I have managed to pick up a little. Basically, they are polytheists. They worship seven major gods, which are based on six constellations of their zodiac and the last god represents the entire cosmos. Each god has a relation to one another either by parents, siblings, or just servants of one another. They also revere other constellations as minor gods. The gods themselves are the constellations, the brightest stars of the constellations make up representatives of their personality while the dimmer stars that reside within the constellation are their divine servants.

"Diane!" Mother cried when she spotted an acolyte of the church she recognized. Celestine has long been able to make out names in the language. I'll just translate them roughly with English equivalents because their language is a bit hard to grasp. A lot of speaking inflections make up a great majority of word differences.

"Sylvianna, what's wrong?" A calm voice asked while she approached. Oh, Mother's name is Sylvianna. I learned that a while back. It just doesn't feel right to call her that in my thoughts, though. But I suppose it suits her. This is a name I didn't have to work hard on translating since it has few inflections and actually sounds like it could be a name in English. Same with Celestine. Does this mean we're foreigners here?

"Tina started crying saying she was hearing voices!" Mother was holding back outright sobbing in the middle of church. She really loves Celestine so much, she almost completely lost composure just telling what happened.

"Hummm, well, it might just be her imagination." She smacked her lips a bit as she spoke. She clearly didn't think this was too serious. Did she think Mother was a hypochondriac? There was a slight pause, probably the woman gauging Mother's reaction to her diagnosis before she sighed and continued, "Let's bring her downstairs and make sure, though."

There was a hand pressed against the back of Celestine's head. A cool rush of something entered her mind and she suddenly lost consciousness. She was sent to sleep. I'm glad I could still take in the world through her senses while she was asleep. I could hear and feel everything. But her eyes were closed. I could open them and look around, but that would be suspicious. She should be asleep. Only take in information that doesn't rely on movement, me. The church already doesn't think this is serious. If I call attention to myself, I could end up exorcised! Or worse. We could be executed. I've been killed a few times in my lives under the accusation of witchcraft and heresy. Not a fun time. Burning at the stake, I've actually gotten over that when I recall my memories, sadly. The nerves are burned rather quickly. So it's just a slow wait till smoke inhalation causes unconsciousness. It's the having your feet tied to rocks and thrown into a lake that traumatizes me the most when I recall them. Drowning is something you NEVER get used to. Drowning with your body anchored is the one cause of death where you pray death comes quicker just to end the suffering. The constant struggle of your instincts to breathe and to not suck in water... I don't want to think about it. Thankfully water seems to be a rarity in this city, so I don't have to worry about that form of execution. I don't want to die at all, but sometimes you just can't control what fate has planned for you.

I could feel the light rocking as the weight of the body lessened with each step. So, going downstairs. I don't recall being downstairs. I know that's where the church hospital is, though, from what Mother told Celestine. They also have a few classrooms down here for young acolytes of the church as well. I want to see! I can risk a peek, right? The acolyte would be leading Mother, not following her.

I slowly cracked Celestine's right eyelid and saw the dark stone wall of the staircase lit up by small light crystals with thin wires strung between them. They were thin as spider silk and were only visible with the reflection of the light off of them. Is this how the lights are powered? Is this why the light crystals in the chapel room are suspended by cables instead of floating freely like you would expect in a magic world?

Celestine's experience with magic so far has been very limited. Limited mostly to light crystals, the drinking apparatus, and the various unexplained mysteries she sees when she accompanies Mother for errands. It might not even be magic, but anything unexplained to a child, and a hitchhiker that can recall innumerable lives from an alien world, is magic. I wonder why Mother hasn't taught Celestine any magic? She's seen Mother light the crystals in the house, but when Celestine tries to light them, nothing happens.

We entered a room lit up with black stone walls but was contrasted with bright white floors and ceiling. The room looked much larger than it actually was. There were empty beds with white padding and covers lining the walls. About eight from my vantage point. So there were probably more behind us. I felt our weight shift. I closed the eye back up and felt the body being lowered onto a very comfortable surface.

"I'll go find Jorald. Wait right here with her." The woman said to Mother.

Mother just replied with a simple hum, which I assume was accompanied with a nod.

We sat in silence for some time. I was just enjoying the cool air and the soft bed. These are luxuries not afforded to us at home~ Oh, and Mother is softly holding our right hand and rubbing it. Occasionally she plays with Celestine's hair a bit.

A sudden clap broke the silence. I felt Mother jump and even I had to be careful to not move, that spooked me too. "Okay! What seems to be the problem this time, Syl? Been a few years since you brought little Celestine here for us to take a look at her. Her health should have been perfect since the last treatment." The steps down the stairs echoed a bit as the voice grew louder. Then I felt a rough hand grab Celestine's left wrist to check her pulse.

"We were at home doing a bit of housework and she started yelling about hearing a voice." Mother replied. Her voice was calmer this time. She probably knew the man well. What he said piqued my interest, though. Celestine was sick? I don't remember that. Must have been shortly after she was born.

"Well that's new." He paused and his voice got lower as he turned away, "Diane, why didn't you put her to sleep?" The voice asked the woman who had brought us downstairs.

"I... did? Did she wake up on us? Celestine?" Diane said.

"Too much brain activity for someone asleep. Stop pretending to sleep little Tina." He tapped lightly on Celestine's shoulder.

Okay. So when she's asleep, I have full control of the brain and it gives off the same signals as someone fully awake. Is that correct? Now, how the hell did he read the brain activity? Is this a new magic spell? Oh well, stay quiet me.

I feel two fingers press against Celestine's eyelids and force them open. I try to keep still, but by reflex I looked at the man above. His eyes were black as night. His irises were solid black. At least he still had white in his eyes. That would be way too scary if his entire eyes were black. He looked like an older man in his fifties. His hair was a gray and black mixed up mop over his head. A stubble stretched over his face from ear to ear. He was looking down at me with a smile like he found a pet that he thought was hiding from him, but was in actuality just sleeping on a shelf somewhere he didn't bother to check at first.

His smile didn't last long, though. He was staring into Celestine's eye with great thought. He got closer. I could see the finer detail of his eyes. They weren't pitch black. More like everything in his iris was dyed a dark shade of gray. I don't care what his name is, he is Charcoal Man from now on. Teehee.

I saw his eyes flash a bit, more magic I presume. "So..."

I swallowed hard under his scrutiny. What happens now?

"What is your name, $&^$^%$$?"

"$&^$^%$$!?" Mother chirped. Her voice was so high. What did he call me? Celestine doesn't know this word.

"C-Celestine?" I moved the mouth and made the words come out, but they were slurred. Partly because she was asleep and because I never tried to make her talk before while she was asleep.

"That is the name of the girl who's body you are sharing. I want to know YOUR name, $&^$^%$$," Charcoal Man clarified.

"W-what am I?" I asked. This man knows more than he is letting on.

"You are a $&^$^%$$." He answered plainly.

"I don't understand. We have not heard this word before." I answer back, slowly. I debated on whether I should say 'Celestine has not' or 'we have not'. In the end, it probably didn't matter.

"A very, very rare being. But a being close to divinity with the gods. $&^$^%$$% are travelers... of a sort. I only know what I've read in stories, but they themselves claim to be lost souls that have become bound to humans of our world. They come with other-worldly knowledge and experiences. The last one I know of appeared over three hundred years ago, I believe. He died very young, though. It's a shame. But those eyes are unmistakable characteristics of one and my identification magic confirmed it just now."

"What do the eyes look like?" Identification magic?

"Constant shifting tiny dots of color. Within your eyes, one can see eternity."

Both of the eyes are open now, I turn to Mother and look at her. Her face is... complicated. "Is this normal?" I wanted to call her Mother, but that would be too much for her right now. I pointed to my eyes with Celestine's heavy right hand.

She shook her head, "Never like this. Wh-When I look into your... Celestine's, eyes I occasionally see a single tiny dot of changing color, but I never worried about it until now..."

"That is the eye of a $&^$^%$$'s host while they are conscious and the $&^$^%$$ is watching. Remarkable! Tell us your name!" Charcoal Man is getting way too wide-eyed for his own good. If these were any other circumstances, I would have maced him in another life.

"I have lived... many lives." I pause. Charcoal man never said the thing he called me recalled multiple lives. Just that they had otherworldly knowledge. "More than I can possibly count. I have had many names. But I remember none of them. Everything is a blur. Many lives are mixed. I remember unique events clearly, but everything else is beyond me. The only memories that are clear are the memories with Celestine."

"You speak words we do not know, $&^$^%$$." Diane spoke softly. I slowly lifted the head and saw her. Ahh, I remember her. An older woman. Old enough to be my grandmother. Her red hair is slowly showing streaks of gray. She is usually in the back during services. Right now she has a pad of paper, I think. Is she trying to transcribe this exchange? She is wearing the same black robes with blue stars on it as normal, as with Charcoal Man. I kinda like that robe. A whole galaxy on the front.

But words they do not know? Oh, I have been supplementing English in place of the words I speak to them. Celestine doesn't know the word for 'blur' or 'possibly'. "Of your tongue, all I know is what Celestine knows. I am sorry." If I have time I would like to teach them some English in case the next one of me shows up and they can't understand them. But 300 years... That's way too long. Am I really so rare? I turn to Mother. "S-Sylvianna." Her eyes, emeralds. "I never asked for this. I am sorry."

"N-no no no, don't apologize!" She rushed forward. She grabbed Celestine's hand and held it between hers. I looked at the hands, then up to her eyes again. They were sparkling. "How long have you been there? All along? Hiding in the back of my baby's mind. Then today all you wanted to do is make yourself known, right? My baby with a $&^$^%$$." She started crying. She rested her head on her hands clasping Celestine's and whispered, "I'm so glad she's not sick again..."

"What should we call you? I'm sure just calling you $&^$^%$$ is getting annoying?" Charcoal Man asked. I'm glad he retreated from my personal space. His expression is still creepy, though.

"I am still unsure how it is spoken in my tongue. Does $&^$^%$$ have any other meanings?" I asked.

"Ummm, tourist? Traveler? Wayfarer, maybe? It's hard to say. Like calling an adventurer someone who simply stumbles in their backyard. It just doesn't fit well."

"For lack of a better word, I'll just call it Voyager. Heh, that brings up a new memory." I was never a big fan of Star Trek, but I did enjoy Voyager. My situation even fits well with the theme of the show.

"Would you like us to call you that as your name?" Diane asked.

"No." I closed my eyes and thought of what I would want people of this world to know me as. Or in the very least what I want Celestine, Mother, and the few who know of me to know me as. I thought back to my last memory on Earth. I don't remember dying, but I remember watching a documentary series on the computer. It was called NOVA. I could easily call myself that, but it just doesn't feel right, so I will butcher it a bit. "Call me Novos."