“And you want me to watch them with you, dear,” Gothel said, making a moue of her lips and squeezing Rapunzel’s hands. This year it should be especially bright because it’s a new moon tonight, which means the sky will still be pretty dark a few days from now, and -” “Every year at this time, the mysterious glowing things float up into the sky in the west. It wasn’t a technically sophisticated piece: just pretty golden orbs with faint auras rising up into a night sky. “You know.” She grabbed her mother by the hand and led her over to the painting she had made years ago, when she first started noticing the yearly regularity of the lights. “What?” Gothel asked, sounding honestly confused (or as though she was expertly feigning confusion). “Which brings me to my next point: Every year during my birthday week there are those floating lights in the sky.” “Grown up, and responsible, and … things. By any definition,” Rapunzel continued, standing up as straight as she could. “Well, turning nineteen means that I’m an adult.
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