She was magic, Peter was certain of it. Some ancient magic, brought to life. The Fifth Element. Supreme Being. She was built of magic and starlight, jasmine and moonbeams, and the most magical thing was that she wanted him. Him, Peter Petrelli. She was magic incarnate, and he was destruction wrapped in flesh, and he was entirely beholden to her.
He listened, tried to feel what she was describing. The names were like music, soft and beautiful. He searched the heavens, trying to find the name, but they seemed to drift beyond his grip, just out of reach. "I don't know," he said softly, also speaking her native tongue. "I don't think I remember how to listen. It feels... faint."
He leaned into her touch, worried that his inability to know the name of the stars meant he was unworthy somehow.