Happy Mother's day! 💞💞
I’m late as ever, but thank you, Darling!!
She doesn’t feel worthy of any honor as she places a glossy, candy red cherry atop the enormous scoops of Lunar ice cream she has piled in a bowl, despite the fact she is attempting to celebrate the Earth tradition of Mother’s Day. Yes, she had brought Artie into the universe, no small feat given how long she and Sao had tried, yet that seems so long ago; another life altogether. In this time, this patched together hodgepodge family, broken and repaired with obvious cracks, they hardly resembled the once mighty Lunanoff family. Nevertheless, her son had done quite well in his own reign as Tsar, no thanks to her. It is why she feels she cannot celebrate Mother’s Day in the traditional fashion; she cannot ask for or expect any accolades for her mothering-- she had done so little of it. No, all she can do it hope to spend the day with her son and build a sort of shared forgiveness and understanding, a day of accepting one another, including past wounds and hurts, but with mutual adoration somehow covering over the pain. She drizzles a glaze over the multicolored domes of cream, that are somewhat reminiscent of the balloons in his great listening room, before tucking two spoons in the side and carrying the dish to his desk. His mother smiles at him, hoping he can pause his work. “For me, Mother’s Day is much better celebrated if we pretend it’s your birthday,” she explains. “After all, you’re the greatest gift I could ask for!”
Of course, she is late. She is always late, always just short of reaching him at the moment he is looking for her, finding him after he is already discouraged. Apologizes are empty at this point; she is beyond even being able to ask for his forgiveness. Nevertheless, Tsarina Lunanoff summons her bright smile, chokes down her regret to find a cheerful voice, and with good natured chagrin appears to offer him the present she has made. “I know it isn’t the custom for mothers to give their children presents on Mother’s Day, but I’m new to this celebration,” she tells him, setting down her parcel at his feet and gently seating herself beside him. The present is wrapped in reflective paper covered in tiny sequins that glint and gleam like silver stars in the night. It is quite a contrast to what is inside: a plain knitted sweater, most likely ill fitting and slightly misshapen, but Galatea has never been one to excel at typical domestic activities. She can build a moonbot in less than a day, but the simple garment had taken more hours than she cares to admit. At least, despite its appearance, it is made of pure Lunar Moth silk, which radiates a soft moonlight glow, much like the spectral boy himself. The twinkle in her eye falters as she gazes at him, the curve of his cheek fitting perfectly in her palm. She had hoped to avoid tears and sorrow-- it is all she seems to ever bring him anymore!-- but she finds her lashes growing wet. “I’m sorry, my darling,” she whispers. “I’m sorry for so many things. But please, please believe me that on this day, of all days, I’m so proud to call you my son.”
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Afternoon dress, 1885-88.
shiningsilverarmor replied to your post: So, there’s good new and bad news. The good news...
Never say you’re disappointing us, dear! It happens but whether you come back a year or later or more, we are always happy to see your posts and you as well. : >//
MY STERTLE you are the best and most pure and fantastic friend and I do not deserve you but I love you so much! <3 <3 <3
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He did not blame his most precious Tsarina for anything! Least of all the troubles to conceive! Of anyone who could understand, who could know her pain and not only sympathize but empathize, who would be better than her Nightlight, rendered null by the self-same family he has loved and cared for nearly as long as there has been a Lunanoff to look after! And beyond that– beyond the earnest and painful yearning for a family, to create anew and shelter such sweet beings into maturity– perhaps it was time to speak to her of their Lunar, and Seraphina, and Jack, but all things in their time, as Bunnymund would (and often did) say.
And, oh, Feral had wormed his way into that soft spot in Nightlight’s heart, tugging on his urge to coddle and soothe, watching the poor beast wheeze away in the dark. He’d always been weak to Pitch in one way or another, whether because of his fragile memories of Kozmotis, his time spent locked away in the Nightmare King’s embrace, or just because somewhere along the line he’d become convinced he could not exist without Pitch in some form to oppose him…
The boy settles comfortably into his Tsarina’s side, murmuring softly as he carefully shifts the dozing baby in his arms to show her off. Hair as dark as chocolate, with a sharp nose and rosy cheeks, and noteably golden-olive skin, it was no wonder that Feral felt compelled to take her for himself: she was the splitting image for Seraphina as a child, if Emily Jane had been human and not Orio-Constellan.
Feelers lift from those white curls and Nightlight has the grace to flush, his face and glow shifting blue.
“…Galatea.”
The baby was so beautiful, so relaxed and utterly content in Nightlight’s arms, that Tsarina Lunanoff could hardly fathom how the child had ever been born to anyone else. Though he was still in every way a boy, possessing no paternal qualities, there was something ethereal and yet perfectly naturally about him caring for the baby. He was like the physical embodiment of a lullaby, much like the one he sang in his perfect voice, so that the song transcended through one’s ears and into one’s soul and set everything right and at ease. It was no wonder the Lunanoffs had kept him as their personal secret; such a nanny was beyond anything the people of Earth could fathom for their little ones, at least until now. Seemingly rejected by the ones who ought to have loved her the most, or abandoned against their will like Galatea’s own Lunar had been, Fate seemed to have smiled upon this little girl and brought her to the place any other child would have envied. Too bad she would not remember these moments; The Tsarina’s own Sao most likely couldn’t recall these earliest of days with Nightlight, but they were precious and essential. Mothers have a magic about them, so people say, an irreplaceable and innate understanding of their children, but Tsarina Lunanoff had to wonder if people only said such things because they had never seen a spectral boy rock an infant to sleep in his arms. He was like a living sweet dream, enfolding them in an embrace as beautiful as the Milky Way. The baby never stirred at the sound of her name, but the flush on her forever-boy’s cheeks was followed by her own when he told her how the child shared the same name as she. “Nightlight, my darling--” unable to find any words, she kissed the top of his head again, hoping he could feel how proud she was of him, how happy she was for the child in his arms. It was an honor that she did not deserve to have his baby named after her. “And what will she call you, dear one?” she asked, finding her voice. “Are you going to be her Nanny or her Papa?” For the first time, the choice was his!
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It had taken what felt like hours for him to rush Sofia out of his workshop. Granted, hours were merely minutes, but they were grating none the less. Sometimes he just wanted his privacy; something the girl couldn’t quite manage to understand just yet. And no, he hadn’t been up to anything sinister, nor was he actually hiding anything from her. Peace and quiet was something he deserved from time to time, and considering all the circumstances that had been thrust upon him… he craved it more than ever.
Finally slumping into his chair after needing to be dreadfully too cheery to rid himself of his pestering friend without complaint, he would sigh; tea in hand and a book in the other. Finally, it was his time to simply relax. There was no work to be done for the day, and his family had opted to go out into town without inviting him. Pleasant!
However, he had no time to take solace in his comfortable retreat before Baileywick suddenly appeared at the bottom of his stairs as nonchalant as ever. As per usual, he would bark whatever it was he needed to when he came here— unlike the others, he hadn’t seemed to have warmed up to the new Cedric quite yet.
“Cedric, you have a visitor waiting for you out front. Cedric’s brow would instantly cock. Who would visit him from out of the castle? His parents? No, they’d just pop through the painting as they usually did. Anybody else? No, he had no other friends. He wasn’t particularly sociable, nor did he wish to be.
“Who is it?”
“A Tsarina by the name of Lunanoff. I don’t know who she is or where she’s from, but she’s requesting your presence.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“Well, perhaps you should go meet her. Get out of this damp old tower for once in your life.”
Baileywick’s sour attitude was enough to at least spur him up to his feet. Who knows what this woman wanted, but at the very least he could find out, decline, and return to his relaxation should it be anything not worth his time. It wasn’t uncommon for people to seek out royal sorcerers for particular services, although, he couldn’t fathom what services he could provide. He wasn’t known for anything but his lack of skill. If somebody needed an explosion or something set on fire, he’d be the perfect choice, but…
He would shrug as he stood following Baileywick with a slight hunch to his posture; something he hadn’t quite been able to shake.
It was indeed a woman that was waiting for him outside on the steps leading to the main entrance of the castle. He had never seen her before, but she indeed held the grace of a royal. He could tell at an instant she was somebody of class and power, yet her gait and smile were quainter than most. For some reason, his thoughts drifted to the child he had just shoo’d from his presence not to long prior; just a much older and more regal version. It was an odd thought, and it would cause him to smile crookedly with gaped teeth at her as he bowed in greeting,
“Greetings. I am Cedric the Sensational. You’ve requested my audience, Your Majesty?”
“Indeed I did, though there’s no need to bow-- You and I will be fast friends, I hope!” she smiled at him with fondness. Though to him it must appear as if he were meeting a stranger, she couldn’t ignore the familiarity she felt upon finally seeing him in person after watching him for such a long time. To her, he was still no more than a boy, and his earnest desire to ‘be good,’ was deeply endearing to her. She believed in him too; that was the reason she had come at all. “I’m Tsarina Lunanoff, but, please, just call me Galatea. I only mention my title because I come on behalf of my son, the reigning Tsar Lunar XII.” She inclined her head to him, adding, “He has taken notice of you, shall we say.” She lowered her voice, though kept her expression pleasant. Certain that others would be curious about her arrival and suspicious of Cedric, she didn’t want to start any derogatory rumors if she could avoid it, so she tried to make it seem as if they were merely having an ordinary chat. Still, her proposal wasn’t exactly something she wanted the entire kingdom to know. The Guardians worked in secret, stoking the belief of the children as they aided their little charges. If the children weren’t required to have faith in their benefactors, the Man in the Moon’s magic would have little impact.
“Is it true what they say about you?” she asked, watching him with a calm, confident gaze. “That you’re no longer seeking the Amulet of Avalor?” She wasn’t testing him, not exactly, but she did want to hear from Cedric himself that the appeal of the powers the Man in the Moon might offer him was less than his desire to be a truly great sorcerer. “I have another means by which to grant you very similar powers to that which the amulet gave you, but only if you’re still interested, of course.”
So, there’s good new and bad news. The good news is that baby Gregory is growing well and that having a child has actually opened up a lot of new doors for my husband and I when it comes to making friends. The bad news is that Greg already takes fewer naps and having friends means spending time with them, both of which absorb the time I thought I would have to be here more often. I’m really sorry to have come back to this blog only to check it rarely, I feel like I’m disappointing you all! I’ll still be here when I can, but replies are going to be much spottier than I had hoped and I’m really sorry, everyone. I love you all and think about you everyday, even if I don’t get the chance to say it!
Thank you, everyone for your patience and very kind words while I was sick! I finally feel better and will get to replies as I can ~<3
Sorry, everyone, I really meant to be here more now that my family went home from visiting, but I've had a fever the last two days and am just trying to sleep it off when I can, but having a newborn makes that pretty tricky! I love you all and haven't forgotten you; this is just the new normal for me. I'll be here as soon as I get a little more time/creative energy! The Tsarina is restless to be back in action!
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THERE IS A very small part of her, the part of seraphina that she strangles without mercy in cruel chokeholds of apathy and disdain, that still looks upon the beautiful tsarina and holds nothing but a childish, but bitter resentment. the child emily jane, however small her voice may be within the grown mother nature, still condemns with barbs in so young a soul, you’re the one who always took my daddy away. a foolish sentiment that seraphina dismisses with all the others, but with memories such as these seemingly coming to life from the pages of this book and through this woman, it still heats her blood in waves that she must continuously quell with so practiced a hand.
seraphina’s eyes never leave the tsarina. they trace every movement of her hands, every subtle change of expression, as she makes merry with her babies. and though she may look like a predator who stalks with silent threat in plain sight, deathly still, she has no intentions of striking. her mind makes deft machinations as it beholds these memories, so long buried under dust and indifference, but it is indeed through her babies that seraphina learns how to lower her hackles – they are curious about her. they wish to know about her, to learn about the place from which she came. the earth mother realizes, with a snag of her brow, they wish to know a culture. an ancestry. they know those of their father well enough, but seraphina has never uttered a single word of hers.
( because i have none. )
six short years in the span of nearly five billion is hardly enough to claim a culture, let alone one that would spurn her so. the tsarina speaks of it now, that wretched star, and her back straightens painfully with instinctive defense. what little culture, what little heritage to which she had clung to in desperate attempts to come home, where b u r n e d out of her. so she made her own culture. her own family. she made herself the beginning, for she had certainly meant her first and only wish, to be a slate wiped clean of my old life! she became the first ancestor. the first mother. and she birthed an entire planet. this is what she will tell her babies, should they ever ask. for the book they look at now is a book of phantoms, and seraphina does not yet know how to navigate such specters.
‘mama!’ the squeak jolts her from her distant, confused reverie, and it comes from sweet little remiel, who is very excited about riding the big lunar moths. ( it’s like a very strange pony! ) even rhamiel is a little curious, looking up at the moth with his big eyes and patting it very slowly, very deliberately. ( mama always taught him to be gentle, like with bunnies. ) ‘mama, the miss tsarina said– said we could ride on the moth! can we, mama, please, please! she said it was okay! ‘cuz our wings are too small, please! pleeeeeeaaaaaaaaa –’ this plea continues for as long as her little lungs will allow.
seraphina blinks a few times, awkwardly thrust back into conversation, but ultimately picks up on how enthralled they are with this new person, with this new book, with this new creature. they had been staring with open mouths and with restless limbs, hanging on her every word, and their wings are puffed to such a volume that half of her wonders if they will burst in a delighted puff of feathers. to see joy in her babies’ eyes undoes everything. she relents. ‘ yes, yes, very well, take a breath, my love, you may ride the lunar moth. only be very gentle, baby birds, for their wings are delicate indeed. ’
mother nature straightens from murmuring to her children, and now addresses the tsarina, voice careful, but otherwise genuinely polite. no vitriol, no acid, just a calm tone like a steady tide. ‘ have you shown my father these pictures? ’
{ “You are a wonderful mother.” } They are the words Tsarina Lunanoff cannot voice, but that throb in her mind as she watches Seraphina with her children. She sees the sacrifice in Sera’s response, the effort it takes to be present for her children despite the subject at hand, the willingness to share in their joy as she overcomes her own practiced apathy. Galatea’s smile takes on a deeper, richer quality as she gazes at the little boy and girl receiving permission from their mother. She will never tire of watching these moments. Scouring the Earth through the telescopes on the Moon Clipper, and venturing to the planet itself at times, she seeks out treasured encounters just like this and she wonders what it must be like. She thinks and ponders and wistfully deludes herself as she imagines the kind of memories she would have made with her baby. It is no secret she must live vicariously through these women and their children to feel what she has lost, and she can only hope they do not mind how meticulously she studies them and savors them in her heart; the tone of their voices, the touch of their cheeks, the light in their eyes. { How can you miss something you never knew? } She is bewildered by this but she is convinced of its truth. Shaken out of her delight by a rare question from Seraphina, Galatea glances up in surprise, meeting the other woman’s cool gaze. For the first time in quite a while, the Tsarina finds herself at a loss for words. With a tilt of her head, her eyes wander elsewhere, avoiding looking at the children or their mother, lest an answer escape her before she is ready. Her fingers carefully securing the cloth saddle to the loops protruding from the woolly creature’s vest, she strokes the moth’s side as she whispers instructions to him, then bends down to scoop up Mother Nature’s soft and small girl to place her atop the great steed’s back-- in the front, of course. Next she places the child’s brother, whispering jovially “Hang on tight!” momentarily setting aside her brewing thoughts. The moth flexes its wings as it patters softly to a clearing, needing room to take flight. Tsarina Lunanoff stands next to Seraphina, keeping her eyes on the children though her smile fades to one of humbled chagrin.
“No,” she admits, her voice low. “I have not shown him. The Guardians tell me reminders of his past wound him.” { But sometimes you want to be hurt. If it will give you back something dear, something lost, you don’t mind the pain. Not if you can have back a piece of your baby, your heart, your very soul! } Reluctantly, her gaze travels to Sera’s face. “Do you think he would want them?” she asks.
#you can feel free to write for the moth too he is like an NPC so#just do whatever you want with him!#and ahhhh how is Sera keeping it together?? She is so strong! and good! for her babies!!! She is so selfless!!!#thank you for forgiving me for being gone forever and a day and for replying so fast I DO NOT DESERVE YOU SAM ilu
Tsarina Lunanoff couldn’t shake the feeling that a child under Feral’s care was a disaster, and the news of the tiny girl’s presence caused her concern, of that there was no doubt. There was a part of her, however, that understood why even the remnants of Pitch Black had sought out a child to bring here, a child to place in the empty arms of their forever boy. Nightlight was never more himself than when he was the guardian of a ‘small one.’ To know he cradled a child in his arms, a babe in need of the special kind of tenderness and nuzzling kindness only he could give, made her heart soar. It was a private sadness, a shared, unspoken ache between them that she had been unable to give Nightlight any more young charges after Artie. The spectral knight’s seemingly infinite series of nurturing the Lunanoff young had finally come to a close, and for this Galatea would always feel she had failed him. Nevertheless, she was not foolish or vain enough to dwell on this matter, and while she still had her suspicions regarding how Feral acquired the child, she could not deny that his gift to Nightlight pleased her greatly.
“What is her name?” she asked quietly, peering over Nightlight’s shoulder at the baby with a warm smile. She sat beside him, placing an arm around him and planting a gentle kiss on his temple. How proud she was of him! Finally, in spite of her absence, after all these years, he had found a new way to belong.
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I see a little bit of @sylvansoldier in this too!
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Anonymous asked:
tsarina-lunraoff ??
@tsarina-lunanoff is just.
The words I associate the most with Evie are patience, kindness, and love, because that is who she is as a person; she is at once the gentlest and sweetest friend I have had the honor to know and the most determined woman I have ever met. I admire her courage, and I’m so, so glad she’s finally at the stage in her life that she’s wanted to be at for so very long: a mother to her own baby! (Who is a very cute small one, and I adore him.)
I missed her so much and I’m so happy she hasn’t left us entirely. Who else would I blubber and coo over MiM with???? ; c ;
As for the Tsarina herself— I do not think Nightlight would be who he is today if Evie’s interpretation of the Tsarina had not taken him in and embraced him entirely as her son! To be counted as family, and seen not as a plaything or servant but a child to be nurtured alongside MiM as he grew and learned was the single most impactful and meaningful experience of Nightlight’s development as a character.
I’m not joking when I say the Tsarina is one of the few central points of Nightlight’s very long existence, and the one through who he judges the Tall Ones by, as a standard of Good and Kindness and Other Motherly Knowings. (And she may be part of the reason why he latched onto Katherine so fondly and thoroughly— Katherine more than resembles the Tsarina as a young girl, if the Tsarina had been a half-wild child who grew up in the woods and raised a goose!)
SAMSA!!! I do not deserve this, I do not deserve YOU!!! Do you know that I have your voice saved on my desktop of you answering an Ask about how much you love MiM that you recorded ages ago because I never wanted to lose it, and do you know that I have saved on my desktop a picture of your MiM doll because I didn’t even want to have to open a browser to see him because he fills my heart so full and do you know it’s because of your faithfulness and your incredible creativity and loyalty to Nightlight and MiM that I am here still writing after everything that’s happened!!! I adore you so much and am blown away by your ideas and your ability to create so many amazing things on so many platforms and you are the Real Life North and the Real Life Nightlight and the Real Life Jack Frost and you love our MiM, you LOVE! HIM! and that heals me!!!!!!!!! You wrote such wonderfully elegant words and I’m just here weeping and leaking all over this post but I love you so much and do not deserve you!!!!
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Lunar Phases, “National Geographic, Vol. 135”, 1969.
Source: chaosophia218
For centuries the Man in the Moon had been listening to the hopes and dreams of the children of the Earth, granting their wishes as he received them the best he could. He had gathered his Guardians to help him, sending them all over the planet to aide those too young to help themselves. Occasionally, however, their was a child whose wishes he could not grant. A child who had lost the innocence their baby teeth were supposed to possess, and their memories of their formative years were dark and bleak. Such children often had hopes and dreams which involved hurting others, or themselves, and the Man in the Moon was forced to abandon fulfilling their desires. The only son of Goodwyn the Great had, unfortunately, been one of these children. Ever since he was only a very small boy, Cedric had begun to have dreams of conquest and revenge, things that the Guardians actively discouraged. Several years later, however, things had changed, and the Man in the Moon had taken notice. He had long sought to find a way to reach the children of Enchancia, but they did not celebrate Easter or Christmas, two of his Guardians most powerful holidays. Legends of the Tooth Fairy and the Sandman had not reached their ears, and while they had the beauty of snow and ice each winter, his chosen Guardian of such elements was also unbeknownst to the young of the kingdom. No one had ever heard of Jack Frost. There was one man, however, everyone knew, and unfortunately he was more infamous than famous. Cedric the Sorcerer, the man who had tried to take over the kingdom and was now attempting to redeem himself, though few believed he could. All his childhood the Man in the Moon had been unable to reach Cedric, but he now saw a perfect opportunity. To convince the wizard that he was just the man he needed, the oldest and wisest Guardian sent the most persuasive person he knew: his mother. She waited in the grand entryway of the castle, smooth, white hands clasped in front of her as she smiled patiently while the steward went to fetch the royal sorcerer.
“Please let Cedric know he has a visitor,” was all she had said, introducing herself as Tsarina Lunanoff, a name almost certainly unknown to the man.