The spotlight is her true home; she thrives amongst the cries of delight as she emerges from the lonely black, a beacon to guide the animals to enlightenment. But the glory soon fades, becoming a given, and her colors follow suit as she departs for her residence in the sky. And she perches upon her throne, conveniently placed to look down on the lower world, where her brother, Daylight, has replaced her. Something boils in her heart, growing hotter with every second of observation. The masses adore Daylight, and he handles their love with ease and grace. Dawn feels slightly petulant, but still she sits there, listening to them frolic under him, remark upon his wonders, and eventually leave his splendor for other conversational topics. He should reside at this obstacle, but no, Daylight remains, content even in his obscurity.
Dawn's fingers grasp the sides of her chair until they're sore, and still Daylight's smile persists. Her self-control flees bit by bit until she can't take it anymore; she hurls hatred toward him, and the animals experience a great spiral of wind or a flood or a fire. Daylight's smile is more forced now as he tries to comfort them without speech.
Dawn has tasted victory and she perseveres, hurling curses not included in the wildest mortal fantasies. And still Daylight remains, trying to hold on to the sliver of satisfaction that becomes more slippery as the insults increase in magnitude. Finally Daylight gives in, seemingly wanting to preserve his people, yet if you dig deeper you'll find the driving force to be a weakness of the spirit. And so he retreats to his glen, away from the raging storms. After his departure they subside until they are merely breeze, rippling through hair and leaves.
A young woman with a skirt of shimmering blue and gold comes forth from her soft and silent cave, rising above the animals in a slow but steady wave. Dawn looks upon Evening with venom, such a quietly, misleadingly charismatic youth; Daylight looks upon Evening with annoyance; she's a silly fallacy, but nothing more. As one the twins send a package of disrespect towards their sister, who cringes before she's knocked of the golden pedestal. Evening scuttles to the comforting darkness of her home, which embraces her like a lover.
A long period of waiting begins. The siblings watch each other with anticipation, none daring to assume the throne of idolization for fear of the others' wrath. Dawn shuffles and taps her feet in a nervous dance, approaching the door; it's so tangible at first glance. Yet whenever she touches it the iron seems to burn her hand before she snatches it back. Daylight sees his siblings as tigers, every movement reeking malice and danger. As he watches Dawn move towards the door, he darts toward his own exit before turning back towards the window, resuming his watch. Inevitably Dawn does the same. Evening is too wounded to do as her esteemed kin, and curls up in the comforting darkness.
The hours grow long as the stillness continues. Finally Dawn shuts her eyes, places a palm on the door, and pushes. Daylight watches, too transfixed to sprint out the door and stop his victorious competitor. Dawn once again warms herself in the spotlight. For the moment, her voracious pride is satisfied.