ORIGIN

The corners of her lips quirked upwards. "No," Aethril said softly, brushing her fingertips along the page to show Obieth. "It's just a drawing. A re-telling of something that happened." She pulled her own hand away when the Valkhound went to touch the paper as well, idly watching.

Don't tear the page out, she was quietly begging-- though it soon also occurred to the Hand that Obieth might enjoy a touch and feel book. She'd just need to make sure it was tough enough to withstand whatever abuse Obieth felt like putting it through.

Gently, Aethril went to turn the page. On this one, the sky was clear and bright and pale blue. A decorated sun took up most of the sky, little intricate patterns engraved into the orange-yellow circle. Underneath was another woman with golden hair and a flowing dress with similar patterns on it, and she had her hand extended to the Moon, who seemed to approach carefully.

"The Sun lived on the other side of the sky. She was beautiful. Everything her light touched was happy and grateful for her, and the first time that the Moon's face was illuminated by the Sun, she felt happy, too.

'I wish I could live in your light forever,' the Moon said. 'The Stars aren't as bright as you are, and I'm not as beautiful as you, either.'"

The page was turned again, gently. The two women were standing with both their hands intertwined, and the shape of the crescent moon is back in the blue sky-- pale white but glittery next to the sun. "But the Sun thought that the Moon was very beautiful. She said, 'take some of my light with you. You'll shine brighter than any Star in the night sky, and everyone will see you the way that I do. When you run out of light, visit me and I will give you more.'

The Moon promised she'd come back, and she returned home." A little turn of the page. Here, the Moon's dress was engraved with similar markings as the Sun's had been. She stood in the center of the garden filled with star-shaped flowers. In the dark sky the moon was full and bright, a stark shape against the dots of stars. "The Moon's new light wasn't as bright-- for it was only a little bit of the Sun's light she'd taken with her --but she outshone the Stars.

Now that everyone could see the Moon, they saw how beautiful her face was, too. The Moon was happy. For the first time she was being admired, and she helped light up the sky with the Stars so that people could see in the dark better. When the light faded, she traveled across the sky again."

The last page. The Sun and the Moon were side by side again in a blend of their skies-- sunny beaches and smooth oceans on the Sun's side and dark stars and pale, pretty flowers on the Moon's side. They held each other tightly, smiling, both shining brightly. The Sun was kissing the Moon's cheek. "And ever since, they were both happy."

Like a light, her smile flickered and wavered. Aethril knew better than to assume these were real people. Perhaps their appearances were based on someone the artist knew, a couple that inspired them, but the Sun and the Moon weren't people. One was a burning ball of gas and the other was a silver rock leeching the light from the sun to shine onto the face of a planet. But-- "they are happy," she told Obieth.

What use was being a Hand if she couldn't get what she wanted? What use was it to live in luxury when that luxury was in a stinky cave with no natural light and the people she cared about didn't know what they were missing out on? What use was it, feeling helpless, when someone she loved wanted to meet the sapphic embodiments of the sun and the moon?

"One day," she said, and she meant it. "We'll find them and we can say hello."

Surely, they wouldn't mind. Like any other fictional lesbian couple, they were probably very nice. Perhaps they lived in a secluded but homely cottage in the middle of nowhere, but welcomed visitors with open arms. She had the faintest, distant memory of entering a cabin-- a neighbour, of some sort? --and being greeted with delighted faces. The warmth of a fire. The squeal of a kettle.

Aethril leaned over onto Obieth and for a moment, ran the palm of her hand down the back of the Valkhound's skull and down her neck. At least she'd obviously enjoyed it. "We'd have to bring something when we do, of course. It's only polite."