Scorpio sun, Cancer moon.

Your loyalty is a fortress with one drawbridge and a long memory.

Double water: depth guarding depth. You love in totalities and archive every entrance and exit. The inner circle is tiny, warm, and permanent; the outer weather never learns your name.

You are fed by feeding; just notice when the pantry, meaning you, runs empty.

A Cancer moon refuels on shelter: the nest matters, and the people in it matter more. Your mood is a tide chart of everyone you love, which is why home has to be the one place with no weather.

People read patience; tell them the truth before the tide does.

You hold steady on the outside while the tide underneath is already leaving for somewhere new. Your exits are decided long before they are announced, and by then no argument reaches you.

The corrective is not difference but depth: you do the thing, all the way down.

The internet writes Scorpio off as intensity looking for a target. With a Cancer moon the rumor is, for once, nearly aimed right; you are the concentrated pour.

Feed the moon first: water, music, one honest hour with the door shut.

You refill from depth, not from rest. Treat the shut door as medicine, not rudeness, and teach your people the difference.