With her Cyclops eye, bloodshot from staring so long at the dark, she's grown tired of the endless storm of his Great Red Spot, a turmoil that dogs him wherever he goes.
With her body tidally locked to his, their flexing churns her surface into a “chaos terrain,” her albedo fractured as she torques and refreezes into the broken lines that define her.
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Up here, where gods rule the sky, she's nothing special, one of the many moons he captured, one more woman collected from the wild and flower-pressed into myth.
But on Earth, she was Queen of Crete, and he a bull that lowered before her the lunar crescent of his horns, worshipping the very ground she walked on.
Even up here, it's she who possesses a hidden sea inside, which, given its salt and warmth, has the power to harbor life.
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