The first time Ralsei saw them, he was thankful for the cloak that concealed his widened eyes and agape mouth. They're beautiful, he had found himself thinking. For a moment, it had been the only thought he was capable of. Lightners were always said to be beautiful, entrancing beings, but until now, he had never spent much time dwelling on the subject. He was only barely able to recover in time to tell them about the legend without fumbling.

The more time they spent together on their adventure, Kris only became more and more beautiful to him. Everything they did, even the way they fought - or acted, rather, - was mesmerizing. Ralsei had spent almost his entire life waiting for the heroes of lore, but somehow Kris managed to exceed every expectation.

Ralsei never stopped thinking Kris was beautiful.

Even when their skin was flaxen yellow instead of gorgeous blue. Even when their hair turned a deep brown rather than a sea of navy waves. Even when their skin paled a sickly tan, their once thick hair thinning and turning a dull dust brown. Even when their eyes, once a brilliant red that shone like beacons, blanched into an empty pink.

Kris was still Kris, and Kris was always beautiful.

The last time Ralsei had been with them, Kris had taken his hand and suddenly asked if he still thought they were beautiful. Ralsei had laughed softly and said of course, before leaning down to meet them in a kiss. The kiss hadn't lasted long; Kris was weak, and there had been preparations to make. They would have plenty of time for such things later, when they had been cured, Ralsei had promised. Even when bedridden with hollow cheeks and dull eyes, Kris was still Kris, and they were beautiful.

There was no cure. It had been their last kiss.

No one knew what it was, exactly, about the fountains, but for Lightners, they were poison. Deadly poison, the kind that once touched is a death sentence. Like a mark on the soul, or maybe a parasite. Sealing the fountain had been enough to expose Kris.

It tainted them, the infection subtle at first. First Kris had began complain of fatigue, started sleeping more than usual. Then came the weakness, the inability to feel proper hunger, the fainting. It was only a matter of years (ten, in fact) until it drained the life out of them completely. Despite all of it, Kris had stayed beautiful the entire way through.

Humans don't turn into dust when they die. Ralsei had known this, and somehow still been shocked when, instead of waking in a pile of dust, Kris wouldn't open their eyes one spring morning. The Lightners lived in a beautiful world, and it felt as if it were mocking him, birds singing with mirth as he embraced his dead lover, bathed in the radiant orange-yellow of the sunrise.

He hadn't spoke, at the funeral. People offered him both awkward and heartfelt condolences, and he wasn't able to respond to any of them. He simply nodded, numb. Susie had been there. She hadn't been able to find the right words, so she just swore and took a long drink from her flask before offering it to him.

Kris's mother had given the eulogy, eyes both steely and misty at the same time. Later, their father had swept him into a hug, crying into his shoulder and leaving a damp place behind. Asriel had been next to pull him into a hug before pulling away with a tired, world-weary expression.

The casket was open, naturally. Even in death, Kris was still beautiful. They were wearing their most handsome suit, hands clasped serenely over their chest as if simply taking a nap.

Ralsei reached out to take their hand, then stopped himself. Someone in the assorted crowd blew their nose loudly. "I'm sorry, Kris," he whispered. He had known the fountain was poison, of course. He had known this would happen eventually. It was something he'd intentionally left out when relaying the legend. It had to happen this way. Sometimes sacrifices must be made. Sometimes, that sacrifice must be a person.

Even someone as beautiful as Kris.