and it's nice enough to make a man weep
When Luna's five, her mother invented a cake box that never empties – it certainly was not her most ingenious invention, but it definitely was Luna's favorite.
She remembers everything a lot about that day.
Her father had spent the afternoon baking – Selene, Luna's mother, had been banned from the kitchen ever since she had managed to create a sentient cake that tried to eat them – and Luna was there, by his side, as he created all of her favorite desserts.
The house had smelled of warmth and sugar for days, and the box had always offered Luna the pastries she wanted.
It's one of the only things Luna remembers about her mother, perhaps the thing she loved the most, how she always used to create wonderful items – perhaps not quite as useful as intended at times, true, but always so wonderfully magical that Luna couldn't help but to love them – and leave them around the house to liven it up.
The plates were enchanted to wash themselves if they were empty long enough, and Luna spent days trying to spot all the tiny runes her mother had carefully etched onto the salt shaker to ensure the salt would always stay dry.
And then there were other things too, objects whose purposes Luna's mother seemed to believe were not meant to be told but found instead, in what always ended up as a cheerful race between the girl and her father, like that empty suitcase in the attic that somehow would only open if the object you wanted was stored inside.
(Luna always won back then, but then again there had been something to win too, even if her mother's smiles hadn't seemed so precious at the time)
She remembers hushed conversations between her parents too, and quiet, secretive smiles, as they talked about hunting for creatures only they knew the names of.
She remembers the stories, the way they always promised they'd all go on a grand adventure, on a quest to find magical beings no one else believed existed anymore once she was old enough, and thought that stories were the perfect way to prepare her for that.
There were the Nargles, which cluttered your mind until you could no longer think straight – 'they can't help it, you know,' her mother always said kindly , 'it's in their nature. Never blame them, and never blame yourself, because it's in ours to keep our minds open.' – and Luna's favorites, the Crumple Horned Snorkacks, which could only be seen by those pure of hearts and intentions.
In the stories, the witch (because of course there was a witch) always went on a quest to save something important, and every time, the Nargles were the greatest obstacle she ever faced, because as Luna's mother always said, 'if you can triumph over your fears and doubts, then nothing will be able to hold you back).
The Crumple Horned Snorkacks role varied more, but it was always good. Sometimes, one of the creatures chose to be the girl's companion, because everyone needs a friend. And sometimes, they were the wise creatures at the end of the quest, who told you that you could only find what you wanted by seeking it.
All of these are but fleeting moments though, becoming flimsier with every passing day. She's forgotten the way her mother smelled a long time ago, and when she did, she spent days spraying the perfume her mother had loved everywhere, hoping that maybe she'd be able to recapture the something she was missing that way.
It never worked, and Luna knows that if it weren't for all the pictures, she'd have forgotten her mother's face too.
The enchantments her mother cast faded alongside with her, and Luna hadn't realized how reliant she had grown on those until they were gone.
Here's what won't fade: grief, those stories, and her worse memory (because no matter what anyone else believes, she doesn't remember how her mother died, doesn't know what happened after she went to visit her mother in her workshop, and her mother had smiled then, so how could this memory be anything but good?).
There were ten perfect little cupcakes that day in the box, because Luna had felt like eating cupcakes that day, and she ate them all the night her mother died, because it almost felt like she could feel her mother's magic again, taste it even, warm and kind and full of love, and she was tired of chocking on her tears.
She fell asleep with crumbs on her fingers right by the kitchen counter, and when her father woke her up the next morning, the box was empty.
Funny, isn't it, the things that make us realize what we lost?