Work Text:
It was precisely 12:18 AM when An awoke from her nightmare in a cold sweat.
Right then was not the time to be getting all emotional, however, since she had a lot to do the next day. Attending school, practising with Kohane…
Kohane. Kohane, Kohane, Kohane. She repeated the name over and over again in her mind like a mantra. Kohane: An’s shining sun amidst an eternity of cold nights, and maybe -just maybe- the most beautiful woman alive.
Oh, right. The practice was technically with the whole of Vivid Bad Squad, but that didn’t change the fact that there was only one person that she really wanted to see.
So, An found herself grinning wide like a fool, much to her dismay. She really was pathetic when it came to her beloved partner, wasn’t she?
An picked up her phone from the bed stand beside her, and the time was once again imprinted clearly in her mind. God, it really was late. How was she ever going to function tomorrow, if she didn’t go back to sleep?
Fine then, she decided, putting the phone away. She would go back to sleep, and everything would be normal again in the morning… right?
However, as she closed her eyes with a new resolve, she was immediately sucked back into the terrifying world of her nightmare, which felt very, very vivid, and very, very real.
And as An slept, her ears were deafened to the crescent moon outside her window, which called out to her- not to make a mockery of her misery, but because they were one and the same.
✩☀☾☀✩
The sun was beginning to rise, yet everything felt dark, and empty, and wrong.
What was wrong, exactly? It should have been an ordinary day. The sky above was painted in a variety of mellowed shades, hardly menacing, and An’s surroundings were not unfamiliar.
In fact, she came here quite often. A space existing only within the Street Sekai, although ironically, located at quite a distance from the street itself. Sunflowers towered over her figure, making An feel very small.
None of the others knew about this space. Perhaps that was for the better, as it had not always been a part of the Sekai. The first sunflower shoots had begun to grow some while after Vivid Bad Squad’s union, but hadn’t fully matured into bitter blossoms until that fateful encounter with Taiga. As he had told her of Nagi’s death, crushed her with the betrayal of all of Vivid Street, and attempted futilely to get her to sing away her sorrows, the flowers had truly begun to flourish.
In the time that followed, An had nourished them with her rage, and watered them with her tears. Only now did she come face to face at last with the fruits of her labour. Despite the adverse circumstances that had led to their growth, she couldn’t help but admit that they were beautiful- tall, abundant, and facing the sun.
There was another element to her adoration, however. If An was to be honest with herself, she envied the sunflowers. Very much so. How lucky they were to have the opportunity to present themselves in their fullest form, to the one who had nurtured them and helped them grow. Yes, she decided. Even if, one day, things did improve, and this storm inside her came to clear, she would find a way to keep them alive.
Besides, there was something else there, amidst the mess of grief, that would undoubtedly persist even if all else failed: fear.
Although she would never dare say it aloud, Shiraishi An was a coward. There was no way in hell tḩat she would be able to face being left alone a second time- and so she remained, sheltered amongst the sunflowers, and cherishing the touch of the leaves against her skin, not unlike the hands of a lover.
It was then that rustling came from amidst the towering stalks. An’s heart swelled as Kohane emerged at her side, stopping momentarily to pick a leaf out of her hair. She flashed a smile, giggling softly. Whatever unease An may have felt before was pushed away as her beloved partner came to occupy her secret space, filling it with her warmth.
“An-chan…” Kohane glanced around in awe, until her eyes came to rest upon An’s own. She giggled again. “I didn’t know such a place existed.” She stepped forward tentatively, and came to stand at An’s side.
An wasn’t really sure how to respond. She wrapped her arm lightly around Kohane’s shoulder, glad to have her close at last. So soft, and warm, and-
“They’re really beautiful,” Kohane said, to which An found herself once again at a loss for words. Would she still think the same if she knew that these flowers had grown not out of love, but loss? A loss that was An’s very own, no less. As if reading her mind, Kohane then asked: “Did you grow them yourself, An-chan?”
How could she deny such a thing? “Yeah,” An said, and attempted to smile. “I did.”
“Then I love them even more.” She reached across her chest to squeeze An’s hand, who felt as if Kohane had reached through and touched her heart directly. She thought she might just faint right then and there.
“And I love you,” An wanted to say. Instead, she let words unsaid dance around her lips. “How did you find this place, anyways?”
“I think you’re misunderstanding me, An-chan. The sunflowers weren’t what attracted me here.” Kohane leaned in close, her breath a warm whisper against An’s ear. “I simply followed the sound of your heart.”
As if in response, An’s heart surged, beating wildly, uncontrolled. It pulled at her, willed her forward. The pounding in her ears drowned out all else, until Kohane became her whole world. As the greenery around her blurred, the girl with the flaxen hair occupied all that she could see. All that she wanted to see.
“Well, then,” An proposed, “if you’ve already come this far, why don’t we follow it a bit further?” She paused. “Together?”
Kohane was all too quick to accept her outstretched hand, smooth fingers carefully intertwining with An’s own. “Actually… there was something I wanted to tell you.” An could feel her tense up, and she worried for a moment that Kohane was going to pull away. An clasped harder, and Kohane’s eyes widened slightly.
“Sorry,” An said, quickly loosening her grip. “It’s a habit, that's all.”
“It’s alright, An-chan.” Kohane’s voice seemed to lower slightly, and she assumed a slightly sorrowful expression. “Let’s walk first, talk later, alright?”
There it was, again. That sinking, horrible feeling of unease, that grew harder and harder to ignore. Still, An did her best to push it down and away, as she always did. Everything would be alright so long as her beloved partner was by her side, after all. However, she couldn’t deny that her thoughts, although meant to assure, reeked of uncertainty.
So, hand in hand, the pair continued together through the forest-like formation, guided by An’s confident lead. Knowingly, she led them both through the endless blooming maze, guided by the occasional bent stem or slightly-ripped leaf- and always aware, oh so painfully aware, of Kohane’s warm palm in her own. She would tear up every one of these sunflowers with her bare hands, one by one, if it meant that she would be able to savor this touch forever.
All while continuing to hold her hand, Kohane pointed through the verdure, her figure illuminated by the faint dapples that managed to cut through the vegetation. Ahead, the flowers appeared to thin out, giving way to a clearing. “Is this where you’re taking us, An-chan?”
An’s heart swelled again, urging her to answer despite not really knowing why. “Yeah.” The steadily brightening light above was an alarm, a reminder. “Maybe we could watch the rest of the sunrise together.”
“I’d love that,” Kohane said.
With a body as light as a feather, and with Kohane at her side, An strode forward, smooth air parting in her wake. With each step she took, the resistance around her seemed to decrease, until her movements were akin to floating. Her legs were weightless, yet her soul was full.
With one final stride, they cleared the last of the sunflowers together, and the rising soil beneath their feet formed an overlook, providing a view that even An had not dared travel far enough to see. Trees, grass, rock and sky blended together to envelop them in a mass of colour and sound.
But most of all, there was the sun! Oh, the glorious sun, illuminating the world beneath them -a world that was their very own- in a myriad of ambers and golds. Beside her, Kohane stood, entranced, eyes filled with wonder. It was truly a majestic natural spectacle- and, best of all, it belonged only to the two of them.
The warmth around the pair continued to increase with the sun’s rise, but nothing could compare to the steadfast assurance of Kohane’s hand in her own. “I’m glad you followed me, Kohane,” she murmured.
At An’s side, Kohane was staring off into the sunrise. Her breathing seemed to have slowed, and she bore a content expression, seemingly feeling a similar way. “I’m glad too, An-chan.” Kohane’s smile only widened further as she assumed an unforeseen determination. “And… I’ve made my decision. I’m sure now.”
“Sure… now? About what, exactly?”
Held breath, suspended in midair. The beating of twin hearts, delicate, but divergent.
“An-chan, I-” And suddenly, she felt Kohane’s hands, gentle against her neck, pulling her closer with fervent yearning. An didn’t even have time to think before Kohane’s lips were pressed against her own, flooding her being with absolute warmth. Kohane, with her sandy hair, and golden eyes, and soft skin, and beautiful smile, was so close to her, so wonderfully close.
So, when Kohane finally pulled away, blinking slowly in delight, An willed her closer once more, guiding her softly, until their lips came to touch over and over again. She relished in the push and pull of it all, becoming lost in the flow of their vivid dance.
An wished that it would never end.
Such love was as fleeting as the dawn, however, and both of them knew instinctively when to slowly drift apart with a quiet reluctance, although even moments later, An found herself longing once again for Kohane’s embrace.
Kohane whispered something inaudible, suddenly.
“Mm?”
“Thank you, An-chan. For everything.” Kohane gave her widest smile yet, but something wasn’t quite right. Every hint of unease she had felt since stepping into this flawed reverie came back at once like an ominous wave, flooding her heart absolutely.
An’s heart began to race. “K-Kohane?” Against her will, her breathing shallowed, and she began to sweat. “You’re not… “ She gulped as her worst fears were confirmed, revealed to her by the slightly-trembling corners of Kohane’s lips before she had the opportunity to reply with even a single word.
“...Leaving?”
“You’ve given me so much,” Kohane murmured. “A new pair of eyes, with which to witness the surpassal of a dream. A new voice, supported by your own, to cry both my joys and sorrows alike. But best of all…”
Kohane only then dared to look her in the eyes again. An really couldn’t bear it. At all.
“I’ve been given a new pair of wings, and taught how to fly. And now…” Kohane turned away, and began to run. “An-chan, I’m going to touch the stars.”
An was left to watch helplessly as her beloved partner’s form grew smaller against the vast silhouette of the horizon, hair dyed in every colour of the sun. Tears streamed silently down An’s face, until finally, Kohane was gone into a bright new dawn.
Gone. What a horrible, horrible word.
✩☀☾☀✩
Within moments, An was awake once more. 2:26 AM, said her phone.
However, the time was far from being her biggest concern. Frantically, An opened her messages app, and instinctively clicked on the contact at the very top of her list. Staring back at her was the contact photo she had set for Kohane: a slightly round cream and white-coloured hamster. Still, even this was not enough. She needed to see Kohane’s face now, to talk to her, and to ensure that her dreams would not bleed into reality.
An only hesitated a moment before sending her first message.
An: Kohane
An: Um.
An: Hi
An: Are you awake
Damn it, what was she thinking? Kohane wouldn’t possibly be awake at this hour. She would be sleeping, like the good student she always was. An wasn’t sure what compelled her to continue typing.
An: Could we maybe. Call, or something.
As quickly as she had transferred the words from her head to the screen, they were deleted. A subconscious worry had borrowed its way deep into her mind. What if Kohane rejected her request? An decided that would be worse than anything, and so, with great hesitation, she set down her phone once again.
Outside her window, the moon was brighter than ever, despite only forming a thin crescent against the night sky, alone in its brilliant presence.
Perhaps she and the moon weren’t so different after all.
She also found that her legs were light again, although this lightness was not the same as the one she had felt within the dream- with Kohane. This sensation was different, akin to drifting aimlessly through the cool air around her.
Without a partner, a shining sun to illuminate her face, she truly was nothing.
The next moments happened in a sort of blur, as An made her way out of the cage that was her bedroom, downstairs- phone in pocket all the while. Both her parents were away for a few days, assisting at a live house somewhere in Koenji. An had originally wanted to join them, but had decided not to in order to prioritise practice with her groupmates. Now, however, she found that she was regretting this choice immensely. Her parents certainly weren’t Kohane, but some company would most certainly be preferable to none.
Then, it arrived, summoned by An’s longing. It was discreet in its doing so, perhaps because it had never really gone away. She really missed Nagi.
There were still times when An dreamt of the time she was rejected by the city she loved so dearly, and had run away into the clutches of the school. Like her, the soon-to-be Kamiyama High School was incomplete, and perhaps that was why she had initially taken such comfort within. Although she had run away, these dreams were far from nightmares, like the one she had only just experienced. After all, they always ended with her residing within Nagi’s familiar embrace, relishing the feeling of a comforting hand on her shoulder as another would run delicately through her hair.
She had been working on managing her grief since the fateful confrontation. An would even go so far as to say that she had done everything right, even- she had surrounded herself with people she loved, channeled her negative energy into her passions, and yet she felt as if all her engagements were nothing more than mere distractions. Nothing she had done had dealt with the emotion at its very source- although it did indeed dull with time, as others had advised her it would, An had trouble accepting that it would never really go away. At least, not entirely.
If she were to ask herself, the worst part was probably the sudden rushes of emotions, whether it be sadness, desperation, or rage. They certainly made hiding everything she was feeling from Akito and Toya much harder. Surpassing Rad Weekend was the most important goal, after all- and, it was what Nagi would wish for her. Even during the moments in which they seemed to grow the most, hearts soaring with sheer passion and determination, An couldn’t help but feel tainted by her underlying distress.
Kohane knew, though. How could she not, when An could see glints of worry within her eyes after practice? There were many hints she gave unwillingly, yet gave all the same- whether it be a noticeable tremble in her voice when saying goodbye after a call, or a sad smile that lasted slightly too long.
As if in response, a voice made itself heard to her, although An wasn’t sure where exactly it came from. From the back of her mind, perhaps, or a product of her subconscious. Or maybe… something in the very night sky above. Kohane would want you to tell her, it whispered.
And why should I? she snapped back, despite not knowing what she was responding to, or whom. Despite this, whether the voice was truthful or not, it certainly was tempting.
She sees how you’re hurting, and it’s hurting her, it continued, in a sing-song fashion, taunting An, enticing her.
That got to her. Hurting Kohane was the last thing she wanted, and the very idea of it was haunting. The brush of such a thought against her mind provided a touch cold like death, snapping her alert in an instant. Pulling out her phone, she paused only a moment before selecting Kohane’s contact once again.
Asking for Kohane’s company at such an hour was a large demand, and a part of her wanted to continue upholding her selfish desires. The issue herein lay in the fact that An wasn’t entirely sure what it was she wanted. Her self-image was a fragile one, and she worried that if Kohane witnessed her in such a state -even for a moment- that she would no longer wish to stay. After all, the very presence of this incapability- inferiority, even, rendered her inherently… lesser, did it not?
Being lesser wasn’t good partner material. Why should anyone wish for one to stand alongside them if they would not be able to catch them if they fell? Hell, during moments like this, An wasn’t even sure if she could truly save herself.
That doesn’t matter, murmured the voice, before An had the opportunity to push it away. This time, the distance between the thought and her own mind seemed to have decreased. She might decide against staying with you in times to come, but is ensuring Kohane’s own well-being not worth it?
It was. Anything for her beloved, potentially soon to be lost, partner.
Fine, An conceded, I won’t draw this out any longer. She began to dial Kohane’s number- her fingers only trembling ever so slightly as she pressed the final digits, which seemed to sparkle like stars in the darkness.
✩☀☾☀✩
“Mmm?” Kohane’s voice over the phone was muddled and groggy, as was expected at such an hour. Kohane usually kept her phone on silent while she slept, but had turned on the feature allowing calls from certain individuals -An included- to alert her anyways if done so twice in a row. An had hung up quickly after her initial attempt, clinging to the sound of the second waiting ringtone like a lifeline. “Oh… it’s you, An-chan. Is something wrong?”
For emergencies, Kohane had told her, when initially informing her about such a feature. Well, this certainly was an emergency, wasn’t it?
And yet An could hardly bring herself to admit such a thing upright. At least, not yet, before Kohane saw her. So, she laughed awkwardly in response, as was typical. “Hahaha… yes… maybe.”
Kohane seemed much more awake than before. “Are you alright? Physically, that is. Oh no, it’s nothing to do with your family, is it…?”
“No, no, everything’s alright with them! Especially so! Couldn’t be better, in fact.”
An could only imagine Kohane’s unconvinced expression behind the screen. “An-chan, you’re really bad at this.” She winced, knowing it was true. “I know something’s clearly going on, and… I want to help. I really do.”
“I…” Forcing the next few words out was exceedingly difficult, and they seemed to stick like honey to her tongue. “Could you maybe.” A pause. “Come over… please?”
Surprisingly, Kohane didn’t question such a request in the slightest. “Of course,” she said, her voice rich with softness. Or, at least, what An presumed to be softness. Everything appeared uncertain at moments such as these, after all.
“I’ll be there soon,” Kohane promised. “I shouldn’t be too long, An-chan. Wait for me.”
“Yeah,” she said, before hanging up. For such a dire request, it was surprisingly efficient. An had stated her plea, and Kohane had responded accordingly. And yet, how was it that Kohane could promise to be so near, but feel more distant than any celestial body?
An yearned -absolutely and undoubtedly- for her warmth.
Kohane’s gentle knocking at the door seemed to come an eternity later, resounding clearly through a storm of An’s own doubts and worries.
An opened the door, and there she was, in all her imperfections- visible eye bags, messy hair, and all. And yet, she was perfect, because she was here, here, before her very eyes. As An had ventured through the outer limits of her dreamscape, Kohane had embarked on a journey of her own, although she had done so alone.
None of that mattered now, though. An didn’t think she had ever been happier to see someone in her life, and paused only a moment before throwing herself into Kohane’s ready embrace.
“Thank you,” An murmured, voice muffled. “If you hadn’t arrived, I might not have made it another hour, and I-”
“An-chan.” Kohane’s response was as steady as ever. God, An didn’t deserve her at all.
“Okay, that might be an exaggeration,” she admitted. “Still. I really needed this. Because… I… well, I…” She trailed off. Why wouldn’t the words come out? An wanted so badly to shout her feelings, and yet even longing seemed to catch in her throat.
The hand that was then placed upon her shoulder was a firm, but stable one. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me now- whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
An whispered her thanks once more, barely audible- although Kohane seemed to understand all the same. She felt her partner’s touch begin to waver, slightly.
The crisp chill of their surroundings had gone unnoticed by An in the moments prior. “You’re cold,” she remarked. It was rather odd, as Kohane hadn’t felt like the nighttime earlier. “Come inside with me, Kohane.”
“Okay.” She smiled as she always did, but the hint of sadness it contained was all too telling- Kohane had always been able to tell when something was wrong. There was no way that An would be able to keep running away forever.
But, she certainly could keep running away for now.
The pair took a seat, side by side, at the table in the kitchen, and An didn’t bother to even turn on the lights. They sat amidst the stale darkness and familiar furnishings, savouring the silence of words unspoken. It really was unusual- singing was at the base of their partnership, and yet they found themselves without their voices.
That was, until Kohane turned to stare out the window to their left. It was narrow, yet provided enough of an opening to frame the vigilant crescent moon.
“It’s nice,” Kohane said, simply.
“I think so too,” An agreed, although she was admittedly slightly perplexed at the sudden declaration. “Say, you’ve always loved the moon, haven’t you, Kohane?”
“Yeah. I find that it never fails to intrigue me.”
“Intrigue you? How so?” It was beautiful, sure, but it felt so… incomprehensible. “How can you even begin to understand it?”
Kohane blushed slightly. “Well, I take pictures, for one. It’s incredible, really- I’ve gotten to observe small details that anyone ordinary would never be able to see. It feels like the distance between us is lessened greatly, almost as if I am able to find myself in an orbit of my own.”
An nodded. She had never thought of the moon in such a way, but it all made sense. Still, there was one thing on her mind.
“Don’t you feel afraid, though?”
“Huh? Afraid of what, An-chan?”
“Afraid that if you get too close, you’ll discover something that disappoints you. That if you see too clearly, you’ll find that things aren’t as you thought they were. That…” She gulped. “You’ll lose all of your feelings, and forget why you fell in love in the first place.”
Kohane’s gaze turned to An, now, although such a shift was hardly noticeable. “I guess that I am… although I’d say that I get frustrated, more than anything. I suppose it’s common knowledge that only one side of the moon is visible to us, but… it makes me sad. It must get tiring showing only one version of yourself to the world, don’t you think?”
“Yeah…”
“No matter how hard I try, I’ll never grasp or comprehend it fully. There will always be aspects of the moon that will be a mystery to me. I notice new details with new pictures I take, sure, but I will never have the privilege of seeing its hidden face.”
Kohane seemed genuinely defeated, and even in the darkness, An could see a troubled expression cloud her face.
“So, to answer your question… no, I don’t think knowing anything more than I already do would change anything about the way I feel, actually. In fact, I can only see learning more intensifying my desire.”
How could Kohane say such a thing so casually? “Even if you realize that you were wrong the whole time? And that your feelings were based on perceived lies all along?” She could feel herself beginning to tear up.
“I don’t think my feelings have been based on lies at all,” Kohane countered. “Even if I don’t see the full picture, my views are still absolutely and undeniably my own. I’d really like to believe that there’s truth to be found in it all, because I long to understand more than anything. And… my perspective isn’t built upon perceived perfection, An-chan. I hope that you can recognize that.”
Perceived perfection. Suddenly, An found herself yearning to speak, to shout, to sing, and knew that she had found her voice again. She would tell her everything, and if Kohane left her, then that would be for the best.
“Kohane, I think it’s about time you knew. I called you late tonight because-”
Silence.
Then, in a trembling voice: “I’m afraid.” It felt as if a weight had been lifted off An’s shoulders, and she sighed, relieved.
Kohane opened her mouth to say something, but the emotions kept overflowing from there, like a waterfall that An felt powerless to stop.
“Huh, I’m really glad I said such a thing. It feels good to acknowledge me.” For the first time that night outside of the dream, An allowed herself a small grin. “I dreamt before this, Kohane. Of me. Of us. Together.” She spared her most of the details.
“I’m guessing it wasn’t a good dream?” Kohane spoke softly, tenderly, almost as if tiptoeing around the folds of An’s heart.
“Well, it was. Better than good, even. It didn’t end well, though.” She couldn’t help but laugh grimly. “It was a nightmare, after all.”
“Please don’t tell me I hurt you, An-chan, I-”
An hurriedly dismissed such a thought with frantic gesturing. “No, no, you didn’t. Please don’t feel bad. It was all me, really. You just came to discover that I wasn’t good enough. You saw me as I was in that moment, which was really scary. And then… you realized that you would be better off shining on your own, and you left me.” She didn’t bother to stop the tears, this time.
An hadn’t noticed Kohane’s hand reaching towards her face until the tears were tenderly wiped from her cheeks. “I won’t leave you, I promise. Really. I’m right here.” Her voice was overwhelmingly warm, and An wanted to envelop herself within it forever.
“You know, there’s a girl I love, An-chan.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. She’s really incredible. When she sings, it makes my heart race like nothing else. Her voice gave me direction, fueled my passion. And yet, she’s so much more than any of that.” Kohane’s voice wavered slightly, and An took comfort in the fact that she was not alone in her weakness.
“But,” Kohane continued, “she can’t seem to see it, although it’s very true. The girl I love is caring, kind, and accepts others without question. Even when they really don’t deserve it.”
An couldn’t bear to look Kohane in the eyes. Not yet.
“I love her, but that doesn’t mean she’s without her faults. She hides her feelings, and finds it hard to love herself. She fails, even when the people around her appear to always succeed. She tries to hide that, too, even.”
An continued to find herself unable to face her.
“When she stumbles, I love her, as well as when she stands proudly. I love her when she sings about her street, as well as during the moments where she can’t seem to find her voice. I love her in her entirety, not despite her flaws, because they are hers, and hers alone.”
Only now did An dare to look upwards. “Kohane…” She leaned in.
“She might not always be her best, but neither will I. Still, I want to be the one to make her shine, push her to be her best. I want to make her heart soar.”
They met, and this time, An was the one to pull Kohane closer. Even in the darkness, An had no trouble identifying the softness of Kohane’s cheeks, or feeling the tenderness of Kohane’s lips against her own. It all felt so smooth, so warm, and so right. Best of all, this was no nightmare- Kohane’s radiant warmth would be here to stay.
✩☀☾☀✩
They didn’t forget the night forever, and after changing, both An and Kohane settled into An’s bed- more than large enough for the both of them, despite Kohane’s initial hesitance.
“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” An had murmured, in between kisses.
“Then, I’ll gladly stay the night,” came Kohane’s reply.
Now, they lay face to face, with their hands at each other’s sides. Neither of them spoke, although they didn’t need to- this silence was peaceful and comfortable, unlike the one prior, and their love was more than enough to occupy the space that surrounded them.
So they stayed into the early hours of the morning, until An could feel her eyelids threaten to close against her will. “I think I’m going to fall asleep, Kohane,” she yawned.
Her partner seemed to be having similar troubles. “Mm. No practice tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.” By this point, her voice was reduced to a sleepy mumble. “Oh, and one thing- would you mind not telling Akito or Toya about any of this? I might one day, but I don’t feel ready. Yet.”
“Of course. I have something to tell you as well before we sleep, actually.”
“Oh?”
“I love you, An-chan.”
An felt as if her heart was going to burst. “I love you too.”
Dawn came to them, eventually, although this time, it brought no sadness, no words unsaid, and no star-chasing. They were illuminated by golden rays, and yet An paid the dawn no mind, as her very own shining sun slumbered peacefully in her embrace.