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She didn't understand. At what point?
She liked men... right? She'd had a boyfriend, she had her three children. Wait, is that relevant?
What had changed?
It had been months since the Moonlanders had arrived on Earth after the situation with Lunaris. She had become close to Penumbra due to the time they had spent together on the moon when she lived in her place. But it was strange, something she didn't understand, a feeling.
And it was when their shoulders rubbed together from the closeness, when she suddenly couldn't pay attention to her because she was absorbed in staring into her eyes, or simply when she saw her in a crowd—her heart raced, her pupils dilated, her cheeks flushed, and suddenly she couldn't think clearly, entranced by that alien.
It was so confusing. Penumbra was a woman.
How had that happened? Was there something wrong with her?
No, there wasn't. She knew.
But then, why had that alien suddenly become the focus of her thoughts?
She stared at the ceiling, silent, thinking.
Anyone who passed by her room and found her deep in thought would say there was something wrong with her, because she'd definitely never analyzed a situation as much as she was now.
She shifted her gaze, checking the time on her phone. It was almost 5:30, and she'd been meeting Penumbra. They'd been seeing each other a lot lately.
She quickly got up and walked over to the old wooden vanity beside her bed and sat down to get a better look in the mirror.
She was disheveled, her feathers in disarray, her eyelashes disheveled, and she was wearing an outfit made of old clothes that were definitely more comfortable than regular pajamas.
She sighed and picked up a brush, trying to groom herself as best she could. She wasn't one to care much about how she looked, but it was a date.
Date?
No, it wasn't.
Was it?
Then she tried harder to fight the unruly feathers peeking out of her hair.
Soon she put down the brush and reached for makeup.
She didn't even know how to put on makeup. What was she doing?
Something was definitely wrong with her; Penny was making her do things she never thought she'd do.
Della wants to look pretty for Penny.
She grabs a spoolie and combs her eyelashes. She takes the mascara and applies it carefully because she's never been good at makeup, even preferring to go natural for even more important places.
She doesn't understand. How could this happen?
She stops what she's doing and looks in the mirror, catching herself thinking about her again.
She sees herself; her cheeks are pink and her pupils are dilated.
She already knows what's wrong with her.
No, it can't be. No, it could be.
She's in love with Penny.
She's in love with her face, her eyes, her beautiful smile, which not everyone is fortunate enough to see; her shiny, short but soft hair, which she's rarely had the chance to touch; her slender figure, the result of hard training that can be seen in her strength. But she also loves her attitude, always ready, always brave, imposing, tough; but she sees her, sees the honesty and tenderness in her eyes; Penumbra isn't just rudeness. She knows she would never admit that, but Penny knows she knows, and neither of them minds because they can afford to be vulnerable. Even Penumbra, which no one else could imagine labeling her with that adjective.
She lost himself thinking about her again; now she definitely knows.
But she must finish getting ready because she'll soon mark the time she agreed to meet her.
Della takes a tinted lip balm and applies it to his cheeks and lips; she knows that's enough.
She grabs an outfit and gets dressed.
Will Penny reciprocate? Maybe she's not even attracted to anyone. Or maybe she's interested in brave people, or just people from the moon.
She gets discouraged; she doesn't even think she's pretty enough; besides, she's the mother of three 11-year-old ducklings, people wouldn't be interested in being with a woman if it involved three more responsibilities.
She finishes getting ready and looks at her reflection again. Maybe she'll tell Penny—she's straightforward—she'll tell her whether she reciprocates or not.
Penumbra has never shown interest beyond friendship; Della just hopes she doesn't get hurt by letting her feelings out.
A noise distracts her from her thoughts. Donald knocks on the door that had been ajar all this time.
"Something's up." He knows something's wrong with Della; he knows her sister."
"No, it's not true," she lies, but picks up the brush once more to make sure she looks okay.
Donald half-closes his eyes and enters the room, leaning against the door with his back against it. "You're wearing makeup and brushing your hair too much. Where are you going?"
Then the blush returns and Donald smiles.
"You have a date?!" Now Donald is more excited than she is.
"No, I'm just going out with Penny," she turns to look at him, calmer now; or so she thinks.
"So it's a date," he smiles again, mischievously.
"It's not!"
"Then why are you nervous?"
"What do you care?" She pretends not to care, Donald doesn't buy it.
They fall silent. The duck in black is connecting cables. "You like her."
Della doesn't respond. That's when Donald knows it's true.
The duck sees it, her eyes showing concern and insecurity.
"You should tell her, she'll love you back."
"What assures you?"
Donald looks at her with obvious eyes—any interaction they have does.
Della doesn't understand. "Should I tell her?"
Now she's very worried, the conversation has stopped being funny. Donald notices the change in tone and approaches his sister, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Why are you so worried? It's obvious she likes you."
"I'm not sure," she sighs.
I have three children. What will she think of that? I don't even know where their father is! I'm a mother; I don't have the same free time as any other young woman out there. I'm defective, just look at me!"
She rubbed her robotic leg. "I'm impulsive and I make bad decisions. This has to be one of them. I should leave things as they are before I ruin my friendship with her; it would be best for both of us."
Now she was avoiding her reflection and looking at her brother with crystalline eyes. Donald saw her, stood up, and hugged her.
"She loves you just the way you are. She cares for the kids and definitely gets along with them. It's good that you want to put Huey, Dewey and Louie first, but sometimes it's okay to think about your happiness; you deserve it."
Della looked at him, and Donald took her by the shoulders, staring eye to eye. "And listen to me, you're not flawed. You never have been. That just goes to show how brave and resilient you are. Tell her how you feel, and if anything goes wrong, know that I'll always be here for you."
Della wiped away a tear that had just begun to fall, nodded, and felt better again.
"Thank you, I really needed that."
Then she looked at the time. She knew she had to go on her... "date"?
She took one last look in the mirror and grabbed her phone. Donald gave her a smile, and she smiled back, finally leaving the room and heading for the front door of McDuck Manor.
...
She walked a few blocks toward the destination where she had agreed to meet Penumbra.
Della looked out to make sure she was already there and checked her appearance again in the window of a parked car, hoping there was no one inside; she would die of embarrassment.
She noticed her before walking. There she was, her white hair shining in the sun, her astute gaze looking around, and then their eyes met. She could see a smile form on the her face. Soft, delicate, genuine.
Now she knew.
She would tell her how she felt. She knew she was no longer that 20-year-old girl with no other worries than traveling the world with her uncle and brother. But she knew that despite her flaws and worries, Penumbra would listen and understand. Because she had never met someone like her, Della knew what she felt was real.
Della was completely in love.