Binary Stars - SCP Foundation

Sol and Sauelsuesor

Or: A Story of Little Stars Growing up in a Big World

Sol, like all the other Stars, was born in a giant explosion. The whole experience wasn't particularly unpleasant for him, of course: his first memory was the stellar symphony of nucleosynthesis followed by the empty embrace of outer space. A quite calming introduction to the cosmos for someone on the celestial scale, to be honest.

In his first few eons of age, Sol — or Sauel, in the old tongue of the Stars, as mother and father called him — was but a toddler. He would crawl about in the stellar void, riding gamma rays and chasing comets across the early universe. After all, there was nothing to worry about. Even for a space-fairer, the horrors of the Dark Tapestry seemed far. Something for his elders to worry about, while he could continue in bliss.

But still, the void of space grew cold and lonely in time. Soon, Sol would not be alone. Soon, he would have another Star as his peer. A sister.

Sauelsuesor, the Sun's Sister, would be born in time, and along with her a curiosity so bright it nearly went supernova. Sauelsuesor was smaller than her brother, but carried unique wisdom with her even since childhood. She was greatly skilled in school, and had an unmatched intuition for certain things: it seemed never much of a secret that young Sauelsuesor could peer into the cosmos with more than eyes. The two instantly got along, and spent their days playing together in the grand backyard of Oort.

Their parents, giant clouds of celestial dust and gas, wanted the very best for their children. But they were poor, and an apartment near the Galactic Core ever so expensive. And so, they had to make a home for themselves outside the luxury of the big city. Growing up in the Orion Spur wasn’t easy for the two young Stars, and they didn’t have much. But they always had each other.

Day after day was spent playing in the alleyways of void just outside the Spur. Building rock-castles in asteroid belts. Trading planets and moons with the Centauri kids next door. They had just enough to eat, and a list of toys to beg for that mother and father would never be able to buy them, but the two made their lives happy enough.

Sol and Sauelsuesor remember the ordinary things.

They remember boarding the shuttle-nebula that took them to school every day and saying goodbye to their dog Pluto (a dwarf planet on a leash, but their parents never told them that: no Star knows what a "dog" is anyhow).

They remember the tiresome white dwarf on said shuttle, always ranting about something for the whole ride.

They remember being late, every morning, everywhere they went. Sauelsuesor would take what seemed like hours to put stardust in her hair, and Sol would sleep far too long, far too often.

They remember the good times. The carnival and its tacky, themed rides. How mother and father worked two jobs each and saved up for so long to take them there.

They remember the misadventures and mistakes. They remember when Sol was caught smoking. Smoking an asteroid, of course. He was only sixteen eons of age. Mother and father were not pleased.

They remember when Sauelsuesor accidentally doused her alchemy instructor's laboratory aflame in a brilliant and spontaneous detonation of hydrogen plasma. He was surprisingly understanding.

Coming of age wouldn't be easy for the Stars, and they didn’t have much. But they always had each other.

Eventually, Sol and Sauelsuesor had to become grown-ups.

All Stars look down upon their orbiting worlds in childhood and are filled with the desire to help. All young Stars have a so-called "Pangloss Flame", that burns with great curiosity, guides them to help the planets and their people — to interfere for the greater good. Most Stars grow out of all this nonsense and learn their proper role in the cosmos, stalwart and apathetic as it is.

In their teenage Eons, the pair had their fair share of these rebellious phases. Sauelsuesor once descended to the lower worlds and mingled with the Smiths as they laid out the blueprints of the terrestrial realms, hoping to bridge the distance placed between their inhabitants and the custodians of the heavens. She was dissuaded of this in due time, for her parents thought contact between Terrestrials and Celestials to be trouble waiting to happen. Sol, for his part, also wandered away from home on occasion. He would seek to expand his flares across the whole galactic neighborhood of Orion, so he could offer his light to all in need of its warmth who were passing through. He, too, would be dissolved of this foolish notion.

But mother and father reigned them in, and they eventually settled at the heart of their home system and became at peace with their place in the galaxy. Sol and Sauelsuesor would only observe as their native planets developed, as any good Star does.

The Stars do not often sing tragedies, but there is one more thing that must be said:

There had been a third sibling, although they didn't speak of him much. In fact, hardly any soul across the realms is likely to know the real identity of the third.

Sauelbhrātēr was Sol's baby brother, younger than even Sauelsuesor, and filled with so much hope. His Pangloss Flame never went out, and his passion for the lower worlds never mellowed. So did he love the tiny creatures of one such world, those who walked on two feet and lived under the light of Sol during the daytime as Children-under-the-Sun, that he would sneak down to Earth when mother and father weren't looking, day after day, and he would sing for them.

One day, Sauelbhrātēr left home and moved to Earth for good. Sol and Saulsuesor weren't told. Mother and father weren't told. All of them were devastated. He took a new name, distanced himself from the distantness of his fellow Stars, and lived among the Children-under-the-Sun. There, he saw them live and gather and rejoice — their lives so short, but with so much cheer and hope. He saw the Children-under-the-Sun live in fear of the Old Yeren; saw them driven out of the Night-dwellers' towering cities and into zoos and reservations. Not wanting them held back, he spread his fire, and gave the Children his gift. He hoped they would create their own utopia. Instead, they burnt away all the Old Yeren before them had built, and hunted them down with the wrath of a Star's fire.

The flowers cried and cried and cried.