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Skyloft was normally quite silent in the late hours of the evening. The little town enjoyed a late night when the occasion permitted (for festivals or parties or the like), but on an average day, as this was, most people had long retreated to their homes for the evening by the time the moon reached its peak.
There were however, on this particular evening, two young Hylians who had other ideas.
"Horwell, wait for me!"
"I am! I am, don't worry!"
Two young students of the Skyloft Knight Academy, each dressed in nothing but simple sleeping robes and sandal shoes, were the only people one might see on the streets of Skyloft that night. They moved swiftly, but quietly so as not to wake any of the sleeping villagers and let them know the two of them were out past their curfew. After all, such things would be quite counterproductive to the romantic rendezvous they had been anticipating all that day.
Just at the crest of the bridge separating the village marketplace from the residential neighbourhood, Horwell at last caught up to his companion, breathless as he reached for his hand.
"You were going so fast," he admonished as he caught his breath, though the way his fingers intertwined with the other's betrayed his lack of real sincerity.
Owlan smiled, just a quick uptick of his lips in the dark, "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to."
Horwell took in one final, deep breath and straightened, "You're forgiven," he relented before turning his head to look past Owlan across the bridge and to the homes on the other side, "It doesn't look like anyone else is out tonight. Hopefully that means we'll have the clearing to ourselves."
That was the goal, and the anticipation of their little evening escapade going as planned sent a thrill though Horwell that brought a wide smile to his face. His hand tightened around Owlan's as he rushed to lead him across the bridge though the winding village streets, "Come on!"
Their laughter rang off the side of the quiet Skyloft houses, clear and full of reckless joy as the two of them wound their way past front gardens and closed shutters until they reached the very edge of the island. Horwell kept running even after Owlan had stopped by the old tree that stood in this little corner of Skyloft, slowing to a jog and then stopping at the very edge of the launch platform. A gust of wind blew up from beneath his feet, brushing through his hair as he breathed in deeply. Moonlight reflected off the blanket of clouds below, casting everything as far as his eyes could see in a soft, silver glow. It truly was beautiful.
When he turned back around, Owlan was watching him with one of those barely perceptible, gentle looks on his face that Horwell had gotten better and better at picking out in the months they had begun courting. The moment their eyes met, Horwell felt the tips of his ears heat in such a way that he knew they had to be bright red even in the night's darkness. He crossed the little ways back to stand by Owlan's side, and together they sat themselves down on the cool grass, leaning against the tree at their back and against one another with their shoulders pressed together.
"The stars are lovely tonight," Horwell mused.
“They are,” he replied softly, “It’s a lovely night for star-gazing, isn’t it?”
Beside him, Owlan said nothing, but he hummed in agreement.
Horwell drew in a deep breath, letting the cool air seep into his lungs and then deeper into his chest as he leaned further into his companion's shoulder. He let his head fall on top of Owlan's just above his ear as he scanned the sky for a long moment. At last, his gaze landed on a cluster of small stars just above them and he lifted his hand to point them out, “See those? They call that constellation ‘Fierce Deity's Blade’. A bit on the nose with the name, I guess, but I’ve always thought it looked less like a club and more like…Fierce Deity's chicken leg. Or perhaps the Fierce Deity's deformed lump of coal?”
He received a soft laugh for his troubles, and Horwell felt his chest warm at the sound. Owlan, he had learned, did not share his affection easily, and so it felt like a small victory every time he managed to get him to do so.
"I suppose the Fierce Deity's Blade runs off the tongue a bit better," Owlan hummed.
A 'tsk' sort of noise escaped Horwell's lips, "It sacrifices proper description for the sake of ease. Most of our constellations have this issue, I notice."
"Do they?"
"Yes," Horwell nodded, scanning across the bright sky once more, "Astronomers all wanted them to sound so nice, but most of them just look like clumps of stars."
"Then show me," Owlan replied, and when Horwell turned to look at him, he saw something deep and sincere in his companion's eyes than sent a thrill down his spine, "Tell me what you would call them."
Horwell held his gaze for a moment longer, lost in it, before turning back towards the sky with a smile. 'Show me,' he said. And so he did.