"Of course she wouldn't."

Moon finally looks down at her hands, her vision blurred.

It's been centuries since she cried, and two tears fall onto her skirt as her mouth opens and she tries to speak.

It take a bit, but when she does, it's whispered.

Words on the wind kissed by moonlight.

"I love them, don't I?"

For some, it would be a time of rejoicing.

For Moon, it was as if she were in mourning.