You reach up to pull her neck back over your shoulder, and stroke a hand through her mane. Unlike Celestia’s warm mist, Luna’s feels like a slightly chilly void or lower-pressure area, with a faintly blowing wind. You can even feel the stars; they nip at your skin like pellets of sleet as you pass your hand through them. She must be reading your thoughts, because halfway through your fourth stroke, her mane flashes to her normal blue hair.