As the goddess brushed through the wildflower meadow, Orrin wasn't sure where to look. Was it rude to stare at the Goddess of Beauty, or was it rude not to?

'At least pick one!' he scolded himself. 'Her, then away, her, then away--you're like a boy of twelve winters!'

Orrin was in fact twice that age and, all context aside, he did want to see what all the legends described, the fixation of artists across the ages, with his own eyes. So, he made his choice, and hoped he wouldn't regret it.

All of the goddess' clothing appeared to be made of the same material. The base color was a soft gray, but little glints and flashes and bands of all the colors of the rainbow ran across her as she walked.

'Silk. Of course,' Orrin realized, as butterflies fluttered throughout his field of view. 'Iridescent silk.'

She wore a snug layer that hugged each limb and her torso underneath a shoulder-to-ankle cloak, which was fastened across her chest by a butterfly-shaped clasp, and had its hood drawn over her head. The sleeves of the snug layer reached her wrists, and the legs passed inside intricately laced boots below her knees, so that only her face and hands were left uncovered.

It was a well-known pattern, and cause of controversy, that art of the Goddess of Beauty tended to skew her ethnicity, vaguely, toward that of the artist. With the opportunity to see her face for himself, Orrin understood why. She was ethnically ambiguous, like she averaged over every woman who had ever lived. What could be seen of her hair was a shade of brown that could be found anywhere. Her skin tone was a middling tan. Her height was as average as could be. She did strike Orrin as exceptionally slender, lithe as an ice dancer, at which point he sheepishly remembered that he was, in fact, looking at the Goddess of Dance. Plus, hunger and thirst were for mortals. 

But as 'average' as she was in some respects, using that word felt deeply misleading. Any actual, individual human had a flake of dead skin here, an old and faded scar there, bumps and fissures, little asymmetries in the eyes, lips, nose, and ears, a hair or two out of place, a fleck on a nail, veins in the whites of their eyes, and...and...

Staring into the pupils of a mortal wasn't like peering through a portal into the starry infinity of the cosmos.

Divinity. 

Lylis, Orrin noticed, had also stopped breathing. They'd both seen a god before, from a distance, but...well...this was the Goddess of Beauty, close enough to touch. He searched for a word, and couldn't find anything better than 'startling.' Startling beauty. Symmetry so mathematically precise, features so harmonious, complexion so immaculate, that she was startling.

Those poor artists.

The goddess waited quietly until both twins were ready for words. Her face showed the slightest hint of a knowing smile.

"Happens to everyone," she said softly, looking at each of them in turn. "Please, call me Aurora. It means 'aurora,' and was the name given to me by your earliest ancestors. I much prefer it to clunky titles and honorifics."

As overly familiar as it would make him feel, Orrin would take care to honor such a direct request.

Aurora tilted her head over her left shoulder, toward the mountain peaks in the distance.

"Believe it or not, it made me very happy, gratified, to hear what you thought of my work. Thank you. Getting those mountains right has been my main project for a while now."

There was a brief silence, before Lylis managed a halting reply.

"You've...for so long...been...sculpting mountains? Even though...no one will ever see?" 

What happened next...It was such a simple thing.

"Heeheeheeheehee!"

...Just a little laugh. 

But that sound was as cosmic as the pupils of her eyes.

Just like the legends said, Orrin felt briefly disoriented, like when disturbed out of a deep sleep.

Jealousy? From her? Hah! How ridiculously naive he had been.

Her smile showed teeth now. 

...Startling.

"But you saw!" the goddess--Aurora, Orrin reminded himself--pointed out. "It's true, though: that's why I've put them off for so long. There were always higher priorities. Speaking of which..."

She indicated the river this time, and her mirth faded.

"I assume the water is toxic, downstream?" she asked. "Causing problems? That's why you've come?"

At last: answers, presumably, for better or worse.

"Yes," Orrin confirmed. "We--this is my twin sister, Lylis, and I'm Orrin--we came to try to find the problem. Irienne, our homeland, cannot survive without the river."

Confusion tilted Aurora's head. "Just you two? For a whole people?"

That would be difficult to explain fully, without saying anything ill-advised.

"Few are capable of the journey," Orrin began, speaking slowly. "My sister and I--we've trained since childhood. Our--our father...He was an officer, High Commander before he was killed...and..."

Orrin searched for words that wouldn't risk antagonizing his listener.

"People are resigned," he finished. State the problem; avoid the cause.

Namely: If it was the will of the gods, why bother trying? If it wasn't the will of the gods, then even they must not be able to fix it, so why bother trying?

Aurora's face fell. Her lips were pursed with something like sadness or regret. 

"When we are negligent, there are consequences," she said, and bowed.

Orrin and his sister shared a look. In real time, as he watched, that apology--apology!--softened Lylis' face and fists. Like Lylis had said at the treeline, this goddess wasn't her brother. They would never forgive the so-called God of Justice, but his crimes were his alone.

Hope was dangerous, but Orrin decided not to smother it just yet.

"I will tell you what I know, young hero and heroine," Aurora announced, and both twins snapped back to her. "The original source of that waterfall is a spring which to all appearances is as pristine as it ought to be, yet causes nigh-instant death to any creature who drinks from it. The main trunk of the river remains as pure as ever, until this point."

"S-so," Lylis stammered in excitement. "All we need to do is, is--"

"Keep the stream from the entering the river, yes. Unfortunately, it's not so easy. Whether dammed or diverted, the water will inevitably find its way, sooner or later, to the lowest point in the valley."

Aurora pointed to the river.

"I would need to resculpt the land on a grand scale, which would take time that Irienne does not have."

Orrin's shoulders slumped. If not even a goddess could fix it in time...

"B-but, you're a goddess!" Lylis wasn't ready to give up. "You--. Can't you--"

Orrin's sister waved her arms at the waterfall, miming a divine miracle.

Aurora held up a hand to urge calm, and nodded her understanding.

"I'm trying. A spring of toxic water has no place in the Design; it shouldn't exist. My sister could fix it that easily, but it's outside my domain, and she's...up in her clouds." Orrin heard the smallest of sighs. "I sent a message."

As she was speaking, Aurora had tilted the hand she'd raised, to provide a perch for a butterfly that had fluttered over.

The effortless elegance of even such a trivial, absentminded motion, combined with how inhumanly unblemished her hand and nails were, served to reinforce, emphatically, what her domain was.

"If you'd prefer not to wait for Life, and feel a call to immediate action, I do have something I'd like to investigate. Care to join me?" Aurora offered.

"Yes."

Lylis' answer came before Orrin had even processed the question--that hand really was something--but he soon agreed.

"Perfect!" Aurora chirped.

She swept a smile across the meadow.

"I called all the butterflies in the area..." That explained a lot. "...and asked if they knew of anything odd. I've been told of a mysterious cavern, rather suspiciously near the spring. Mysterious, to my butterflies, because such a place ought to be home to many bats, but at this particular cavern, there are never any bats seen going in or out. Regardless, nobody's ever dared to go closer than when they can first see the entrance from a distance--they really don't like bats."

If Lylis leaned in any farther, she was going to tip over. Aurora studied her face for a few seconds, and then Orrin's. He didn't look away, not really, but he was careful not to meet her eyes perfectly directly. A single glimpse of the divinity behind those pupils was enough for one day.

"I find this 'coincidence' most troubling, and was considering how to proceed when I learned that you were approaching. If the mystery of this cavern is connected to the spring, entering could place you in mortal danger. The safest option is to wait for my sister to fix the problem with a touch of her fingers." The goddess' lips pursed with sadness and regret again, but this time, Orrin saw frustration, too. "Do you wish to venture inside with me, nonetheless?" 

---

Lylis' knees were shaking. With purpose. She could feel that this was no trick, no test, no petty game nor power trip. This was what a goddess was supposed to be.

The journey here had been filled with more than a few chances to appreciate how profoundly, pervasively beautiful the world still was, even when so much else was wrong with it. Dawn didn't need to be so gorgeous, certainly not every single morning. Neither did flowers, or river valleys, or stars. Birdsong, butterflies, waterfalls, rainbows, mountains at the edge of the world...

Aurorae.

But they were anyway. They were all magnificent. Always and everywhere.

It was that, that indisputable fact, which had inspired Lylis to step into this meadow, and give this goddess a chance.

"You would trust us so easily?" her brother wondered. "So soon after meeting us?"

Aurora smiled at them both, and Lylis found herself smiling back.

"A brother and sister--born into a degree of privilege, I infer--who have taken it upon themselves to save their homeland, when no other has the wherewithal to try. I do like that story. And if you meant me any harm, would you not have tried to shoot from the forest, while my back was turned? Also, um..."

Her eyes scanned Orrin head to toe, then Lylis.

Excitement. Pure, blazing passion was written all over her face.

"Your armor must be woven from unicorn hair, yes?" the goddess raved. "To be such a spotless white, after a journey like yours? Nothing else fits."

"That's right," Orrin answered, and Lylis nodded, igniting rapid nodding in return.

"Knew it! Wonderful design. Flexible, and it hugs tight to the skin, for agility, but still exudes that sense of robustness, of rigidness, that armor needs to look like armor. Oh, it's so well done! And good luck slicing through!"

"Yours is silk, right?" Orrin checked.

"Silk and chitin, from my butterflies!" She held out her arms and twirled, her cloak trailing by a quarter-turn. "Also, Lylis, tell me if I'm mistaken: Your hair is natural? Red runs in the family, but yours skewed pink? Am I right?"

"Yes, it's...inherited," Lylis confirmed.

This time, Aurora clapped her fingers rapidly, near her butterfly brooch.

"Fascinating! I've long thought it ought to be possible, and it was worth waiting for! Tonight, I'll make the lighting perfect--perfect--and we'll see just how radiant you can be. What do you say? Mm! Do you mind if I..."

Aurora pulled back her hood and, while studying Lylis' hair, laid a finger on her own scalp. Soon, as if a dye made of pink light were flowing from the roots, her hair shifted from its original brown shade to an exact copy of Lylis' pale pink.

"Well?" Aurora turned her head back and forth. "If it suits me half as well as you, I'd be thrilled. What's the verdict?"

Lylis' eyes misted.

Partly, while she'd been fawned over for as long as she could remember, it hit a little different, when it came from, you know...

But mostly...

"I think...you've reminded her of our mother?" Orrin made an embarrassingly accurate guess at an explanation.

It wasn't just the matching hair, not that it wasn't still ridiculous. It was also...having answers. A plan for how to proceed, in the face of any crisis. And above all, having that innate air of authority without being domineering or condescending.

Mom had been so heartbroken that both of her children had chosen their father's career path, instead of politics. It wasn't that public service and leadership had no appeal to Lylis. The issue was that being typecast as a dainty delicate damsel was so tiresome, and donning armor to go on patrols did a lot more to break out of that mold than dolling herself up to go politicking on the high society circuit.

Lylis had never managed to explain that very well, to her eternal regret.

So, there she stood, having made a giant, irrational leap from suspicion bordering on hostility, to projecting her mother onto a goddess, within a few minutes' conversation.

Aurora's quizzical look had transformed into a frown. "Ah...No good?"

Lylis shook her head, and swallowed the lump. "Keep it, please. I-if you like, I mean."

"I do." Aurora removed her finger from her scalp, and instead used it to point the way into the forest. "Walk and talk?"

As they set out, it belatedly sunk in: Lylis and her brother were quite literally following the Goddess of Beauty on the sort of adventure that ended up in storybooks, and they were just rolling with it!? Or maybe it was understandable. They'd been half-expecting to run into one of the six divines at some point, as it became more and more clear that the river situation was supernatural. In that context, this almost felt like a natural progression of events. And far better than the average.

"Lylis," Aurora finally broke the silence. "Offering wisdom and insight is no more part of my domain than purifying toxic springs, but I do think I know something about transcendent beauty and its consequences."

Lylis had no difficulty believing her.

"No dabbling amateur would be able to make her equipment look like it belongs on her. Even I can tell that you could put an arrow through one of my butterflies from a hundred paces, like that." Even the snapping of her fingers managed to sound musical. "I bet, beneath your gloves, there are calluses to prove how many thousands of hours it took to refine that skill. At the same time, I can see how much effort you invest into maintaining your lovely hair. You could cut it short, and save yourself all that extra effort--no trifling amount, for someone who spends a week in the wilderness--but you don't. For many years, you've decided that your hair is worth the trouble, because you like it! And that's...that's..." She shrugged. "I am who I am. That's an attitude that makes me want to invite you along."

Aurora turned to meet Lylis' eyes, and that sense of being swallowed by infinity returned.

"All I know about fighting is 'stick em with the pointy end.' If I tried to wield your knives, I would look incredibly graceful while my enemy sliced me to pieces. But that's me. No matter what anyone may have tried to tell you, a beauty can also be a badass. They're not exclusive."

At the moment, Lylis was feeling more like a blushing girl than a badass, and she didn't need to look at Orrin to know he was strutting along, grinning ear to ear, all smug. She punched his shoulder lightly.

"And young Orrin, not every brother would be willing to understand all of that, acknowledge his sister's ability, take her seriously, and partner up with her on this kind of quest."

"I mean, she would beat me up, if I didn't," Orrin replied, half-jokingly.

"Heeheeheeheehee!"

...And thus passed another spell of vertigo. Lylis barely avoided stumbling. 

The Goddess of Music badly needed to provide some kind of advance warning before she laughed.

She really, really did.

The legends over-diluted their descriptions with too many flowery words. It obscured how real she was.

"Also, Orrin, your equipment belongs on you, too. All the same calluses, I'm sure," Aurora added. "Your parents did well. Now, forgive me if I'm mistaken, but have I understood correctly that you've already lost both of them? May I ask how?"