Rae woke up to the smell of smoke. She bolted out of bed, her limbs not working correctly and tangling the covers around herself in her frenzy. She fell to the floor with a thud, removing whatever sheets still clung to get and bounding out of the bedroom.
The moment she opened the door, which Tracyhad taken care to shut behind him as he left her to sleep, she noticed that it wasn't a 'burning wood' smell, which would mean that their home was on fire. It was heavier than that, and it gave her pause at the door, as she sniffed at the air. It was a strong smell, one that made her a tad lightheaded, and she realized that it was entirely familiar. She was more confused that frightened, now, as she descended the stairs into the was there, swathed in all white – a very striking appearance – and hunched over the kitchen countertop, nursing a dying match as he made his way around the kitchen, lighting every candle that was set out. She recognized the smell, now – that of an overbearing candle shop – and marveled at the sheer mass of wax for a moment before her husband noticed her. He quickly extinguished the exhausted match, beaming down at her. "Good morning, sunshine!" He embraced her warmly, and she laughed, laying her hands on his, around her stomach.
"Sunshine? That's new."
He held her from behind, ducking his head and all but purring. "Thought maybe the occasion called for it."
"And… what's the occasion? The same occasion that calls for all these candles?"
"Quick as a whip, you are," he joked, releasing her. "Go on, go get dressed. Not much daylight left."
Rae stood in a stupor for a moment. "What? It's eight in the morning, what do you mean 'not much daylight left?'"
"It's Lu'Leas Be Tselares, honeybee. Go on, before the suns die." He pushed her from the kitchen, into the powder room in the hall, still quite stunned as he shut the door behind her. She found herself in the well-lit bathroom, looking at a simple white dress that hung opposite her. To say that she slipped it on without a second thought would have been incorrect. She'd learned that quite a bit aboutFairyLand, her new home, would take her by surprise. Once the slip was over her head and pulled down over her hips, flowing around her ankles, she went to join her husband again.
He was lighting more candles.
"Care to explain?" she asked, helping him nurse the weak flame.
"Every year, the suns are reborn," he answered, happy to explain fairy holidays to her. She couldn't be expected to know what the holidays meant, let alone what they were, and he would act as her translator until she became more proficient in the old language, or at least had cycled through all the odd holidays and ceremonies fairies entertained. "Awful lot of work, for them, so we try to stay out of the way. Power goes out and everything goes dark."
"Hence the candles."
"Hence the white clothes. If you go outside in the pitch black, you'll want to be at leastsemi-visible, won't you?"
"How long do we have, until the suns explode?" she asked, and he could hear a tone of fear tingeing her voice. He stopped his frenzy, putting out another match – that was probably enough candles – and held his wife.
"They're not exploding, honeybee. They're being reborn. Ever heard of a Phoenix?" she nodded in response. "S'like that. The suns don't have a lot of life in them, but we needthem, so they just start over every year. It's okay; look." He moved her to a window, where the world outside was bathed in an eerie light, turning everything blood red as the suns began their death.
The lights in the house flickered, electricity and magic alike crackling through the air before everything went dark. The only light left was that given by the candles, and the quickly fading fiery light outside. At length, even that left, plunging the world into darkness, and unexpected and prolonged night.
He explained to her that this night would last until the suns were reborn a week later. That final day would mark Lu'Leas Be Tselares, "Day of the Twin Suns." He told her that this happened every year, and that the death of the suns here is unlike any predictions made about the death of the sun from her world. Those stories told of the death of an entire world, her world, and he could understand her unease. Once the dark settled, and the suns were gone, he took her outside, laughed with her when he saw her expression, a pleasantly shocked reaction to the way their stark white garments seemed to glow in the excited magic of the night. The humans didn't call the darkest part of the night 'the witching hour' for nothing. Even on The Human Plane, magic was tangible at the peak of night.
He loved it; he loved her and how she was so fascinated by everyday, mundane things. Things he'd lived with his whole life, all new experiences for her, and seeing how giddy it made her, it was brilliant! He joined her, pulling her down to the soft grass, lying with her as they watched the stars, bright blue and green against the ink black of a cloudless sky.
"God, it's so beautiful here," she breathed at his side, running a hand over the folds of the dress, shooing away one of the small glowing bugs that had landed.
Fairy Land, when looked at in a certain light – or lack thereof, in this case – could be very beautiful, but just like anything else, there were the darker parts of the realm, as well; parts that he would make sure she never stumbled upon, parts that he would make sure never hurt her. He hummed in reserved agreement, sticking a finger out for one of the silk flies to land. "This is the only time out of the year these little fellas come out," he said absently. "They don't like the sun all too much."
It flew off as Rae turned on her side, snuggling up to him. "What happens when the suns are reborn?" she asked; the air was thick and warm, super-charged by the death of the suns to keep Fairy Land from freezing, to keep it alive, and it was comfortable, tricking her body into thinking it was actually night time, instead of nine in the morning.
He kissed her, holding her against him as he felt sleep tugging at the edges of his mind as well. Of course, this was entirely normal. A trick of the warm, magical air, to lull them into a quiet hibernation until the sun woke them a week later. Often times, the want for sleep could be fought off, but he saw no reason now, comfortable and safe in the soft grass with Rae. He contemplated her question. "When the suns rise…" he chuckled. "You thinkthis is beautiful? Just wait," he whispered, leaning into her and letting the sleep taking him.