A small side-story:
This happened many centuries ago, when a little boy no older than a drop of water in the seas surrounding his land looked up at an orange tree and pondered. A small hand reached up and tugged on the sleeve of the older, taller man next to him. Dark eyes looked down to meet black, and a question was asked.
"Why are they different?"
"The oranges?" Bending down, the elder picked the boy up and lifted him high enough to lean out and pick an orange from the tree they were standing under. "The ones here are sweet. We'll have them for dessert tonight. Those growing on the tree behind are not, so we will wait for them to ripen before picking them to give to others."
The little boy frowned and squeezed the wrinkled fruit in his hands as if to test it.
"How do you know?" he persisted. The older man laughed. "Haven't I told you this before? The uglier the outside, the sweeter the inside."
"Why?"
"Because heaven is fair to all, little brother." Brushing his ponytail back from his shoulder with his free hand, he ruffled the child's hair and smiled. "Come, pick a few more for your siblings and we'll go home for dinner."
Behind them the setting sun sank, as round and full and smooth as the ripest orange.