menodoramoon

[menodoramoon]

Caiette's Muses + The Minor Arcana

[menodoramoon]

@davidhatter

Helpful answers weren't necessarily important to Menodora. She didn't need solutions, that wasn't what this was about. What Menodora wanted out of this were Hatter's truths and stories. Even if they weren't tales of technique, Menodora lacked understanding in a sentimental way.

She follows Hatter's example and sits back at her table, grateful that it seems they would have a conversation and he didn't seem bothered (enough) to outright refuse her.

"So was it accidental? Or intuition? Magically imbuing, if that is the right word, something you've made. Was it subconscious?" Or maybe Menodora had it wrong. "Or had you tried to make it and this time was different?"

Menodora's questions were running away from her so she forces herself to slow down. What is it that she would explain to Hatter? Would she give him the short or long story? If she's asking for truth, she might as well offer it back.

"I grew up in a noble family and most everything I learned was meant to be useful. My mother, she taught me to cook from a young age, had gone against the wishes of the family and took up a type of sorcery they didn't approve of. It was also that she was the second child and was given more leeway. In my case, I'd dabbled with the notion for all of a day before it was dismissed out of hand. I'm a light sorceress at this point, but there was a time I would have liked to have at least learned a recipe or two in my mother's books, the grimoire I mean."

She speaks too much. She wishes she wouldn't. It sounds archaic to her ear.

"I really do want to thank you. I know this is an intrusion, both on your time and personal history."

celestial seasonings || teacakes

[menodoramoon]

MENODORA & MEMORY

❝ a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand; but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon, when I don't know, if you will ever come back. ❞ ― Sanober Khan

UPRIGHT

She remembers all too well heather under foot and rolling fields that welcome her back. She smells the earth welcoming her, telling her there is more of it for her to step through. This world is not for her, but she belongs in it. She sees beauty underfoot, in the distance, and through the sky.

She reminisces about the rainy days, filled with baked goods and cookie-cut stars. She remembers sitting by the oven, the warmth setting her at ease. She remembers her mother's hands guiding her to roll pie crush and pie dough, and how to pick nature's favorite fruits, the season's favorite harvests. She remembers her mother's home before it became hers.

She recollects these moments walking along the grounds, a tinier hand held in hers. Reciting flowers her own mother taught her to name, explaining the stories that they stood over. Her running through the garden much like her own daughter would do moments later. The rose bushes that had survived winters and the fresh flowers that would spend a season before being returned to the earth.

Memory was precious. It was to be held tightly as to not lose it.

REVERSED

She lives too much in the past, wanting nothing more than to throw her memories into the sea. The tide ebbs and flows, rising to meet her, but never does her the courtesy of grazing against her.

She is made too much of memories and everything she cannot let go of. If not her, who else will protect those pinpricks of light, of memorial. She holds stories close to her chest, hoping someone else will take them and treasure them and honor them.

She is made too much of borrowed light, reflecting everyone else in a mirrored smile, but surrounded by darkness in order to shine. Her light feels like neither particles nor waves, simply a third, intangible idea lost to a void. Once it's passed to her, where else does that light go? Who else holds out their hands to preserve it, or does it die in isolation with her?

Memory was fickle. It was fluid in hard-to-grasp ways.

[menodoramoon]

(outfit)

Menodora inclined her head slightly as she accompanies Jessie into the gallery. Her posture is the same. Practiced, though there were parts of herself lately that felt would collapse on themselves if she didn't put effort in her appearance. Not so much the aspects that involved make up, hair, or beauty as it was the elements of appearance that reflected, for example, reputation.

For now, though, Menodora's attention was drawn upwards to the beautifully high ceilings. The light streaming in. She barely took a moment to glance anywhere from skyward. Before, on the train, she'd been somewhat fidgety, running her thumb along the first crease of her ring finger. She'd kept up polite enough conversation, but Menodora hadn't realized how much she'd spent tracing her fingers over her jewelry until she'd stopped wearing it.

"Ah, thank you," Menodora says, her attention drawn back to Jessie. "It's magnificent, I have to admit." Her eyes trail up again, acknowledging the rest of the room. "I feel... impressed. I feel that it's open, and freeing almost. I feel as if the peak of the sky is just beyond the glass and we could very well be in a tower of some sort if I didn't know better." Was that too fairy-tail-ish? "There's no atrium in my family's estate. It's, mostly, angular. Tall windows, but little light with the curtains drawn. I love the sky."

Even if I fear falling.

@belladonna-wright

A Field Trip! - Blood Moon

[menodoramoon]

The rate at which her thoughts ricocheted through Menodora's neurons would be an interesting study. She tries not to think of that as well, but those inclinations only added to her flurry of concerns. She tries to maintain an even appearance though, pulling up her email. Looking at the interface (Danish) and search for the email from Castle Suites (English). There's something about it that she's always found amusing. While Danish was, technically, her first language, it felt that English had been prioritized all her life in ways that were, well, detrimental to being a Danish Countess.

Menodora finds the link, opens the portal. She hadn't had to mess with it since moving it, having put all of her bills on auto-draft. (River set that up, actually. For someone so outdoorsy, he was surprisingly adept technically.)

"Alright, it's this form, then?" Menodora asks, pulling it up and finding all the fields. The 'category of what' the 'how and why' the 'describe the problem.' The priority of the issue, was this an emergency? "Is there a way I replace it myself without having to answer the questions? I feel like this form will only lead to more questions."

@auntcass-hamada

break in / check in || mooncakes

[menodoramoon]

It was hard to feel like an adequate hostess with a broken window. She's distracted and not, mind whirring in ways she wishes it wouldn't.... she needs to focus on something else. She could focus on Cass, but if she did, she'd worry to much about her being involved. The idea that it could be, again, political hadn't left Menodora's mind.

She needs to stop. She needs to focus on parfaits. She needs to think about something else, anything else. She needs to not worry so much about what a broken window and stolen documents could possibly mean. She needs Cass to leave, but she also needs Cass to stay. She needs--

"Of course. It's the least I could do for you for taking the trouble to be here," Menodora says, cheerfully. Probably a bit too much so for what's just happened. "Oh, you didn't have to do that, Cassandra. How much was it, let me pay you back." Menodora's already abandoning the food for a moment to look for her pocketbook. She turns to look over her shoulder at Cass, trying to think. "You know, I don't think I've ever put in a work order. I should... figure out how to do that."

Her luck was such that, of course, there were rarely any incidents in her apartment that she needed to fix herself. She had gotten her keys back from the fairground last fall, so she didn't even need to put in a request to change her locks back then...

She sets £300 on the counter (a normal and reasonable amount to keep as cash on your person) and pushes it towards Cass (because that's how much it was, likely, for the supplies) before moving back to the table to retrieve her laptop.

"I think they sent me an email when I first moved in," she says, changing directions. Pulling her laptop up to the kitchen counter, opening it, typing her password with only two three attempts because she always miskeyed something... "This is where my tech illiteracy kicks in, Cassandra. Prepare to be thoroughly entertained."

@auntcass-hamada

break in / check in || mooncakes

[menodoramoon]

Tempura~ry Set Backs || Mooncakes

[menodoramoon]

Collapse the Light Into Earth || Mooncakes, Stelsa, and Maximus

Summary: Moon collapses after feeling unwell Date: Prom, June 21, 2025 TW: Fainting, Anxiety, Drug Abuse (after effects)

Previous Reading: How May I Serve You?

[Read here]

@menodoramoon @vvinter-queen @stellabfly @trackedbymaximus

[menodoramoon]

Cass was a forgiving and loving person. Menodora, still embarrassed of her unladylike outburst, was surprised somehow that Cass would say yes. All the thoughts that were too big for Menodora to have contained had rushed out and Cass, being who she was, took it all gracefully. Menodora doesn't know how Cass couldn't have won Prom Queen last year, she had all the qualities of a kind, recreational ruler.

"I'm sure I will love it," Menodora says, sipping her tea and looking towards Cass's excited expression. Menodora didn't ever want to do anything to upset or disappoint Cass. Cass was the last person, well, perhaps after Stella and River, that she'd ever want to lose. "So it's a date, then," Menodora says, the words feeling strange on her tongue. She swallows down that butterfly feeling, smiling brighter, knowing her eyes are probably still rimmed a bit pink. "I'm sure with this year's theme, it won't be as easy to shop at a normal store. If you need anything for your attire, just let me know. And Cassandra, thank you. I mean it. I don't think I'd be where I am now without you."

@auntcass-hamada

Tempura~ry Set Backs || Mooncakes

[menodoramoon]

He... liked it better that way? That was a surprise to Menodora, who carried a Tide Pen with her always because she despised casual stains on her clothes. She did think that taking a Tide Pen to a stranger's shirt, particularly at their chest (not that there was exactly a better place), would be terribly good form.

Menodora was about to offer it to him, but his request seemed to be a drink. Menodora could do that.

"In that case," kneeling down to pick up her stray pen, "do you mind if I join you? What drink would you like,--" and then she stopped because she truly did not know his name. She stands with straight posture, a pleasant smile on her face. "I'm Menodora," she introduced, softly. "Good to meet you. I promise I don't throw pens at strangers often. Must be nerves today."

@the-pumpkin-king-lament

The ex of my ex is my friend || pumpkin moon

[menodoramoon]

She didn't expect Hercules to blindly trust her judgement, but she also didn't expect Hercules to fight her on this. Her tone of finality often discouraged further conversation, but Hercules wasn't, as he said, a 'subject' and Menodora really didn't have any influence over him. Clearly.

She wasn't meant to get frustrated with him. She wasn't trying to. Her temper, though, could run away from her, especially when she started to feel even the semblance of being cornered.

Hercules was adamant that she should report it, but what then? Menodora being a countess and political figure was easy enough to look up. She didn't hide that fact well. It's the everything else that she was afraid to unearth.

Why? Because people would look at her differently? Because once it came to light again, all these secrets she'd been swallowing down for years would be outside her control? Menodora couldn't manage a narrative that not only caught up to her, but outran her. Overtook her.

Menodora really was a control freak, wasn't she?

But then she really looks up, really sees him, and has no choice but to acknowledge Hercules's hurt. Her heart aches, beating almost timidly in her chest.

"Then what can I do to assure you not to worry?" She half-snaps half-desperate, which really isn't the way to handle this situation. "If telling you isn't enough, what can I do? I can't have people delving into what was taken, I can't. All people have secrets, Hercules. I don't want--" she cuts herself off, biting hard on her lip. She couldn't tell him.

She wants to just sit down. Or kneel and sink into the path. She's not even said anything incriminating and she's already shying away -- hiding away -- from herself.

Hercules already had an adverse reaction to her inclination towards violence and her use of the term 'monster.'

Why was she clinging so desperately to not putting in a report, really? There was guarantee anything would be found... There was no guarantee anything serious would be brought up.

"We are friends. It is serious. It could be dangerous for me and to me to not take this seriously. And yet, I can't help but feel that bringing all of this up would be worse."

@kouros-herc

A Reasonable Show of Concern - Mene

[menodoramoon]

Backdated to Mid-June

Menodora had gotten into a fun habit on the rare occasion when she decided to go out. She would decide via a coin flip if she'd go to Pixie's or The Court.

So far, she'd always gotten The Court, which worked well for her because she still didn't understand Pixie's. She really didn't. Or maybe that was how she felt about all clubs.

She wasn't sure, but it's how she ends up sitting alone at the bar with a drink, letting the music drone on just a small bit, the melodies sloshing in her head until they mixed together, time blurring in that space. Her pen traced beneath words for a petition she really should be reading at home but she just couldn't do it.

Being at home lately hadn't felt right. It hadn't all of May, and while Menodora hoped she could work through it and get over the break in, she hadn't. Not yet. She still spent most of her evenings out, still avoided opening her blinds, and was jumpy anytime there was an odd sound at home, even if it wasn't from her apartment.

Something else that hadn't felt right since the break in was the way she held her pen. Her hands hadn't entirely stopped trembling since the break in and she really wished they were steadier. Especially when an errant twitch of a nerve has her practically tossing the pen behind her, and her turning to see it had left a mark on someone's shirt.

Oh.

"I'm... so sorry. That's mine," she says, hurriedly gathering her papers. "It's water-based, the ink. It should come out. I feel awful, can I do anything?"

@the-pumpkin-king-lament

The ex of my ex is my friend || pumpkin moon

[menodoramoon]

The ex of my ex is my friend || pumpkin moon

[menodoramoon]

How May I Serve You? || Rune

Takes place: Prom 2025 Previous Readings: Heck of a Drop-In Summary: Ralph upholds his end of the deal, serving Moon (@menodoramoon) compromised food TW: Drug abuse (magical)

MENODORA

It’s a beautiful kind of night. The Night at the Museum has taken on entirely new meaning with the artistry of the planning committee and the way everyone has interpreted the theme. Being with Cass tonight, who was shining brighter than normal, almost makes the stresses of the past weeks dissipate, where those concerns linger on the tips of her nerves but everything else feels almost untouched.

There’s a relief to the cool air of the evening, stepping outside to take a breath. Menodora had never been to University. She’s lived on the edge of Pride U’s campus for so long but rarely ever walked along the paths. It felt forbidden in some strange way. Swynlake still remained a strange place of imaginary rules to Menodora, even if most of those are self-imposed.

Menodora sweeps her petal-like pleats of cloth and finds an empty bench to perch on. She feels terribly for leaving Cass but Cassandra was more the social sort and Menodora was, apparently and according to Hercules, an introvert. 

She almost misses last year’s suit.

She almost misses Swynlake, even if she hasn’t left it yet.

RALPH

Ralph felt like he was going to throw up.

Which isn’t great when you’re handling the food.

He was on his second year of catering for prom. It was good money, and it’s not like he was going to go legitimately with a date. The fact that he was nominated Prom King was likely some sick joke. And if his brother tried to talk to him, he could use the excuse that he was working to get out of an awkward conversation.

At least, these would be his normal thoughts for the night.

If not for the potion that was burning a hole in his pocket.

He’d gone back and forth on his decision about a million times since his fateful encounter with Hekapoo. He couldn’t do this, of course he couldn’t do this! Not only did he not know if he could trust what he’d been told, but he had no idea what damage he could possibly produce.

At the same time, he did know the damage he could produce with his powers unchecked. Despite how gently he tried to navigate around the world, or delicately he tried to hold those close, it didn’t stop him from tripping and bringing a building down, or gripping a newborn kitten just a little too tight. He’d hurt people who were close to him and pushed others away, all but locking himself out of what could’ve been the relationship of a lifetime. His giant genetics were ruining his life at every turn and now he finally had the opportunity to do something about it. All he had to do was slip a little potion.

He was still telling himself he couldn’t do it when he “accidentally” knocked into the buffet table, causing a mess that emptied out the rest of the staff from the kitchen. He still mulled on how insane this was as he crouched over the plate of hor d'oeuvres and shakily emptied the liquid on one of the confections, which easily blended in with the sheen of the sauce. He still believed he had a chance to back out as he brought the tray out onto the main floor, using his height to his advantage to make sure that no one could accidentally take anything off of it. He screamed at himself to turn around as he peeked outside to find the beautifully dressed Menodora and closed the distance between them, pinching the plate between two fingers so tight it nearly cracked it, the jaws of a trap enclosed.

“Smoked salmon crostini?” 

MENODORA

Oh, it's Ralph. Menodora looks up from her half-solemn, half-pleasant reverie. Her gaze trails upwards (because it has to) to find him in a similar role as last year. She feels bad for it, the way she’d overreacted to him asking after Stella last prom. She also feels bad that she's here in a fancy dress and he’s serving her once again.

In a year’s time, she's grown fond of him due to situations that could never be real. She had an affinity for him because of dreams that could never come to light here, not with their history. She'd be naive to think that they'd ever be able to be friends with political tensions that divided them.

If Menodora wanted to further live in her denial, then maybe she would ask after his day. His evening. After him and Elsa. 

She doesn't. They're not friends, even if she'd like to will it to be true. 

“I’d love one,” she says, though she doesn't reach for one. Instead, she continues to glance up at the evening light behind Ralph, musing a bit about all the things she might say to Ralph if they could be closer. If she wasn't who she was and hadn't been so cold hearted to him.

“Do you care to join me?” She offers, shifting over. Maybe she should look more regal right now, have more confidence, but she didn't feel like she could right now. This would likely be her last prom. She wouldn't get to play dress up anymore as Menodora in Swynlake to sweet Prom Themes in these beautiful spaces. She wouldn't get to have a night with Cass like this again, or spend the previous week confirming outfit details or fretting over the night. Menodora finally meets Ralph’s eye again. “I promise I'll tell your employer I absconded with you if anyone asks.”

RALPH

When Ralph had interacted with the queen (countess?) last year, he’d been deeply afraid of her.

Now he was afraid for totally different reasons. Instead, when he looked at her, all he felt was a weird mixture of fondness and trepidation. Their experiences together in the weird magical spaces that only Swynlake could provide had given them a connection, but one that didn’t exist in the real world. Having grown up here, Ralph was firmly of the belief that what happened in dreams stayed in them and they were never to be acknowledged. Ever.

At the same time, it had shown him a completely different side of her. A gentler side. A happier side.

The woman sitting before him did not seem particularly happy. If anything, she seemed far off and honestly a little down. He didn’t know what was going on in her life, but what had been explained to him didn’t sound great. It was bad enough that Stella felt like she had to break into her own mother’s apartment to get answers.

It was bad enough that he was being asked to do this in the first place.

She said she wanted one, but she didn’t take it from him. Instead, she scooted over and offered him to join. His heart leaped in his throat. Why couldn’t she just take it? Why couldn’t she just make this easy?? He knew it was a bad idea for him to be spending too much time around her–it was an especially bad idea if he was still with her when whatever was supposed to happen would happen.

But if he refused, she might not take the potion. He couldn’t force it on her.

Against his better judgement, he forced a smile. “Okay. But I can’t be gone too long,” he said, preemptively making an excuse for himself when he inevitably had to go. When he sat down beside her, his side dug into the bench’s metallic armrests while the other brushed up against her, sending a shiver up his spine. Without looking at her, he once more held out the coated hors d'oeuvre towards her while resting the tray on his lap. “Here you go,” he offered once again.

MENODORA

She smiles. “No, no, of course not. Only for a moment, I promise.” In good faith, she picks up a crostini but doesn't yet take a bite.

Silence follows for a few moments. She’s almost glad it's not Cass that's here. Cass had seen her mope enough.

The air crackles with excitement and music from inside as someone opens the doors, then closes them again.

It's a small crinkle in the night, a spark before the quiet again.

“I don't like endings,” Menodora says suddenly and unprompted. It feels… strange to tell Ralph. She knows she's overshared with him before, in dreams or otherwise. Still, it felt nice to have someone from Mjaunie, even if not originally from Mjaunie, there to talk to. “I'm sure it'll be a relief to you when I'm gone. I'll probably be moving back to Mjaunie at the end of September.”

It's this sort of sad tone that doesn't exactly radiate self-pity, but rather, a sort of musing. She's almost humored by the idea.

“What made you want to come home, Ralph?” Menodora asks, looking down at the confection, balancing it between her fingers as they tremble lightly. She can't get them to stop shaking, even if only slightly. Not since her flat had been broken into. “You said last year that you're from here. I can't imagine you enjoyed Mjaunie too much; I don't blame you for wanting to leave. I just have to wonder what made you choose here. Why not anywhere else? Why not travel and explore and have a grand adventure?” 

RALPH

Ralph kept steady eyes on her, making sure that she took the correct crostini. Once it was in her hands, his heart leaped into his throat and hammered there–he was sure his Adam’s Apple must be bobbing from it. But still, she didn’t eat, simply held it.

What was he going to do if she didn’t eat it? If she tried to give it to someone else? He nearly jumped out of his skin at the door opening, but then it closed again. Who was it–were they a witness? Were they going to report this? Why did he think this was a good idea??

Then she spoke. “Huh?” He replied dumbly, mostly because it came out of nowhere and he wasn’t even sure he heard right in his own panic. She continued to explain and he just blinked. She was going back to Mjaunie? That didn’t match what Hekapoo had told him. Then again, she didn’t seem particularly happy about it. If anything, she just seemed downright sad out here. It was such a weird contrast to where they were last year.

Which she brought up. His thumbs rubbed nervously over the sides of the tray. “Oh. Uh, well. I guess I already did that? In my twenties. I went backpacking around Europe. It was really cool and I had some amazing experiences, but it can lose its novelty after a while. It sucks not knowing where you’re going to sleep, or having to choose between paying for a hostel or food.” Why was he saying all this? It was certainly easier to talk in the dreams and magical experiences, but this wasn’t that.

He was blatantly ignoring her initial questions. He certainly did have a reason for coming home, but it was not one he could share with her. But there were some half-truths in there. “I guess I missed here. There’s nowhere else I really could’ve gone.”

A small silence fell over them as he looked out across the Pride University campus. Pride U was never an option for him. The Reillys held a firm belief in hard work and manual labor, so that’s what he and his brother were encouraged to do from the moment they graduated secondary. He wondered, for a moment, what life would’ve been like if he never left Swynlake. If he had defied his family in other ways, like going to school instead. Maybe he’d appreciate the theme a bit more, instead of worrying about this insane thing he was doing.

“I don’t think it’ll be a relief,” he said, also unprompted and surprising himself. “When you’re gone.”

MENODORA

It's certainly nice of him to say. Menodora smiles, though doesn't look at him. What would it be like to backpack across Europe? When she was a child, The Commission had alluded to her own mother doing something similar. Leaving to learn, exploring Denmark. Her mother wasn't meant to be Countess, she was the younger sister and not meant to lead. The position fell to her mother, ultimately, out of necessity. And then to Menodora.

Would Menodora have liked traveling? She never got the chance to try, the Commission was staunchly against it. And Stella put up such a fuss about leaving home but she seemed at least somewhat happy now. Could she ever want to come home?

Finally, she turns to meet Ralph’s eye. He's tall. Obviously. Something about him, though, looks different in this light. She sees his expression, she sees the way he looks different to her now. 

After how she'd treated him in the past, as a monster or enemy, she's finally seeing the softness in her face, his eyes.

“Well, I don't expect you'd want to come back to Mjaunie,” she starts, musing, “but if you did, I'd welcome you.”

She hums, leans back in a much more casual, less stiff way.

Menodora doesn't know how she could possibly make Ralph feel welcome, though. At present, she doesn't know if she could even do that for herself. 

She raises the crostini, almost forgotten, to her lips… and takes a bite. 

RALPH

The silence that followed was heavy. Ralph had looked back to Moon to see if she’d eaten the appetizer–she hadn’t. Should he wait here until she does? It’s not like he could let it out of his sight, God forbid it ended up in someone else’s hands. Still, the longer this went on, the more sure he was going to have a heart attack.

She looked to him and he tensed a little.

And what she said left him dumbstruck. What had changed from last year? Had the dreams really done so much? In Mjaunie, he was practically a second class citizen. By the system that she set up and upheld. That the Commission–and Hekapoo–did too.

God what was he doing??

He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped when she finally raised the food to her lips. She took a bite and he held his breath, waiting for the alarms to go off. Waiting for her to notice something was wrong and accuse him of attempting to murder her. He thought about what Hekapoo said about his execution.

But no such moment came. She merely chewed and swallowed, without so much as a wrinkle of her nose. She was none the wiser.

He was, though. He knew what was coming next. He shouldn’t be here, right? He needed to get out of here. He stood pretty suddenly, which ruffled her dress a bit. He held the tray tightly in both hands, with the metal bending ever so slightly.

“I should–probably get back to the party,” he said, eyes darting around nervously. “I can’t be gone too long.”

MENODORA

He startles her with how quickly he rises, but Menodora just fixes her skirts and nods. She's sad about it, but she understands. It was nice for a moment to speak with someone who knew who she was, even if his view of her was likely bleak or unfavorable.

Ralph looks nervous and scared and Menodora wishes she could soothe him, but nothing she could say would likely help besides a friendly farewell. Menodora’s never had to worry about money. Ralph did, along with his reputation to be re-hired.

What different lives they lead that Menodora had only recently understood. And only to a certain degree. 

“Of course,” Menodora says. “I'm sorry to have kept you. If anyone asks, feel free to direct them to me.”

Her tone is less familiar, more formal, but she supposed that's what it's like to have those two temperaments warring inside her. She’ll have to relinquish this Swynlake self of hers, she should enjoy it while she can.

She glances back up towards the sky before glancing back at the lights of the party.

Cass might worry about her as well if she's gone too long, but another few moments wouldn't hurt. 

“I think I'll stay out here a bit longer, Ralph,” she says softly, turning away. “If I don't see you later, I hope you have a nice night.”

[menodoramoon]

Menodora at Prom 2025, inspired by Gerda Wegener. Theme: Night at the Museum. Date: Cassandra Hamada ( @auntcass-hamada )

.🌼💐🌷.

[menodoramoon]

@davidhatter

It's fascinating to Menodora to be surrounded by this magic once again. It felt infused in the air in a way she hadn't known. Perhaps it's because she rarely sat inside. Perhaps she'd known deep down that there would be magic in the air so she dared not linger long.

The magic that she had breathed in and out throughout her childhood. The warmth that spread from her mother's oven, sweeping over her like a hug. The smell of fresh bread and herbs wafting through the air, tickling her nose mischievously. A tease for what she couldn't yet have, for something not quite done.

Her mother's kitchen was different, of course. Being here now, though, felt like she was able to breathe that same air for just a moment. Her sense of reagents had been strong for her age, seeing the way that cinnamon elicited reagents of memory, or the way sunshine was rolled carefully into croissants. Sparks of joy were crimped into berry pie crusts. Moonwater was whisked into reductions until there was only the sky on the surface of the water. Those glasses weren't half empty nor full, they were entirely full of the heavens and the seas.

She shakes awake and back to the proprietor's face. She must have been so lost in memory. She's sure she couldn't be the only strange person in his shoppe, but this time it felt almost personal.

"I'm Menodora," she says with a pleasant smile. "Moon, if you like. My mother was a kitchen sorceress. She knew it by the time she was sixteen. I don't know the story, just what I was told." But that's probably too much. "I'd thought about it myself once. But that was a long time ago."

She pauses. She's sharing too much.

"What made it right? Do you have a moment for me to steal you?"

celestial seasonings || teacakes

[menodoramoon]

Menodora didn't love that answer. Not because it wasn't the most Cass answer there was, but because Menodora wished she could make it fair for Cass. Maybe for herself, too. There was no way to make it possible to be Cass's best friend -- possible neighbor -- forever. The world kept turning outside of Mjaunie. In a way, Menodora doesn't know if when she goes back next, if she'll ever leave again. Hekapoo would never trust her with another pair of shears again, that much, Menodora knew.

So would she say goodbye to Cass in that 'not forever, but forever' way. Letters and texts sent and maybe some calls but both of their schedules would be off, as would their timing.

Menodora felt a step out of time on so many simple counts.

The tea feels warm in Menodora hand. She presses her palms against the mug, feeling the warmth spread. It almost thaws some of that cold dread Menodora had been feeling.

Go ahead and ask was so easy for Cass to say after Menodora had sobbed and been angry and ungraceful in Cass's home. Menodora still feels that Cass should be cross with her, or at least embarrassed of her. It made the next part difficult to say, but still, if she didn't, then maybe it wouldn't happen.

"I don't know if you'd feel comfortable, given everything," a light smile, "but if you would like to, I was wondering if you'd like to go to prom together again this year."

Why did she say 'like' so many times?

"I won't be crushed if you say no! I just wanted to ask since we had a good time last year."

@auntcass-hamada

Tempura~ry Set Backs || Mooncakes