Work Text:
“Aren’t they gorgeous?” Twilight says to the group, hands on his hips, facing the oscillating colors hanging in the sky with a content, proud smile on his face.
“They are,” Four mutters, and he isn’t even lying, but he can’t help but remember his own world’s aurora borealis shining above him as he ventured into a windy cave. He shivers with the memory of ice pressing in on his throat.
