Varus #1: Heartlight: Poetic Justice

The day I read this issue was also the day I watched another significant piece of LGBT+ defining media; the movie Pride (2014). Two things seemingly unrelated (except for the outrage both pieces of art have received from homophobes) but that made me think a lot about the narrative placed in Varus: Heartlight, a narrative that, accompanied by the gorgeous art, warms my heart even if and even when it gets anxiety-inducing, dark and difficult. I watched the movie with my girlfriend, who is a League of Legends nerd and a habitual player. I have been slowly introduced to the LoL universe by her, and the story of Varus was one that touched me deeply in more than one way.

Today, I’m going to focus on what Varus: Heartlight, both its writing and art, does to my heart to give it warmth, why that happens and also why it’s important. Varus is a story with roots in multiple themes; responsibility, balance, self-sacrifice, but overall it is a story about love (the love of Valmar and his Heartlight, Kai) and hope. And this story does something very few stories focused on LGBT+ characters do.

Like Pride, it places them in sweetness, in acceptance, in overall charm. We see Kai take care of Valmar after he gets wounded, and we feel in their looks, and Stephanie Hans’ brilliant use of fire tones, nature elements, lighting and color, how they love and care for each other as they fight the unknown. Kai meets Valmar’s mother and siblings, and everything fills up with anecdotes, charming looks and just general acceptance. For LGBT+ people, seeing two boys dating and just naturally being around their families and children feels too unreal even for fantasy realms. And it’s precisely what this charming art and brilliant writing does right; shows us hope. It shows us happiness, a task in which Hans’ art is even better, if possible, than McNeill’s writing.

 Of course, just like the movie, the comic (at least this one shot, the story promised by Marco Rudy’s cover art hasn’t ended yet) gets bloody near the end as Kai gets attacked by arrows and almost dies. Well, it seems like he dies. Hans’ art gets darker and the color turns completely blood red. And surrounded by beautiful red flowers, comes the plot twist – the sacrifice of love and the resolution. Even though it does fall into the stereotype of stories about gay characters revolving around death, tragedy and hate crimes, this story does one thing different and right; Valmar grasps for resurrection and redemption. The trope of dead gays gets subverted. And, like in Pride, where we finally get a thriving story (actually, history, since it’s based on a real person) of a survivor of AIDs who is still alive today, in this comic comes the poetic justice of Resurrection.