NAME: Menodora Eline "Moon" Perhonen Butterfly-Johansen
PRONOUNS: She/Her
BIRTHDAY: 31 December 1971
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Tags: art | aesthetics | self paras | doc threads | inspo
swynwrimo: 2023 | 2024 | 2025
Plot Roundups: Year's End | River Visit 2024 | Mjaunie Succession Arc
Previously: @menodoramoon-a
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ABOUT MENODORA.
MAGIC STATUS: Sorcerer -- Light Specialty (Known), Descended from Shapeshifters (Undisclosed)
NATIONALITY: Danish
ACCENT: English, Danish Affect
HEIGHT: 5’10"
EYE COLOR: Brown, Can Shift (Primarily to Blue)
HAIR APPEARANCE: Dyed Brown.
DAILY JEWELRY: Crescent Dangles, Crescent Pendant, White-Gold Wedding Ring (Currently does not wear wedding ring)
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES
-> Diamond Marks: Heliotrope Pink Marks that appear on her cheeks, usually as a response to extreme emotion; Sometimes glow
-> Diamond Birthmark: A very faint diamond birthmark on her right collarbone
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OCCUPATION:
Countess of Mjaunie, Denmark. Currently on leave. Or, as she likes to call it, "A Sabbatical from Countess-ship."
As of 1 October 2024, she has taken on more responsibilities as her stay in Swynlake has been extended on a Provisional Basis.
As of August 2025, due to her memory loss, the title of countess has fallen on her daughter.
Mena currently works as a baker at Blue Oven Bakery.
Generic biographic/professional information, including her title as a Countess. For the most part, her personal, daily life is fairly elusive on the internet, but rumors of recollections of her history as a "cool, warrior countess" might surface. You may find information on the Mjaunie Rebellions, the Perhonen family line, and the Johansen family line.
You'd likely find more information about her daughter Stella/Star nowadays. Moon does have an Instagram but uses it to comment on things more than anything. It's under the name "moonbeam.pbj" rather than being affiliated with any formal title. Edit: As of 2025, it's under @/Mena_Perhonen.
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"Nah. I'd hate to make you go through the effort when I can give you something legitimate to worry about instead," said Jack, licking his lips and then reaching for yet another glass.
A joke, a joke! Though he had always been curious about this lady and her connection with Marks. What it was, why it was, all that kinda thing. He'd never ask Oz. They didn't talk about that-- about ladies or about men-- about relationships in general.
They talked business. And lately, the grisly nature of their separate... conditions.
"So what brings you to the Court, then? Feeling lonely?"
Ha. Menodora doesn't need to tell Jack that she worries about things constantly, and that being fidgety was only one of her many manifestations of stress and worry and - yes - sometimes grief. That's too heavy, though, for a chance encounter. She gives a pleasant sort of expression, watching as Jack takes up another drink.
Menodora would normally be glad that Jack took the lead in the conversation. Asked a question, gave some direction. She doesn't know if she's glad now, when such a surface-level question ("Feeling Lonely?") hits very close to a deeper, raw truth.
For the past few months, Menodora has had to be alone. She's been unable to act as herself, fully embracing - no matter how empty it felt - everything it meant to be Mena.
It wasn't so much just lonely, Menodora thinks, but isolating.
"You could say that," she says, trying to shuffle all those thoughts away. "Sometimes it's nice to get out. People watch, or whatnot."
"Oh sure. People throw things at me all the time. Especially beautiful women-- I have a gift for pissing them off," quipped Jack. He raised his eyebrows, eyes bright with something wicked this way comes...
Was he flirting?
Maybe. He liked older women. It had to do with his copious mommy issues. Thanks, Wonderful!
He chuckled at his own joke, picked up one of his drinks and then knocked it back, letting a satisfied breath out after. "So how are you feeling today, then? Fidgety at all? Should I be prepared to duck?"
Well, the whole thing was a no-brainer: Tófi could either choose the person they had known for decades and whose life had drastically changed the direction of their own both for the best and the worst, or have a hollow fake that bared (and only barely, given the colour palette changes) the semblance of familiarity but lacked substance and, as such, made her uncanny.
They'd rather carry the complicated feelings that composed their relationship with pride, as if they were a medal, than have to deal with the alternative.
Yes, if things had been any different that choice would have been terribly insensitive: had Menodora been affected by a natural ailment then the Septarian's choice to rather not deal with her in that condition would not be as acceptable -would have possibly been an insult to their bond than an expression of it-
-then again, Tófi had never claimed to be a good example when it came to morals, so they didn't exactly feel guilty.
It hadn't been a black and white thing and they were aware that the only reason why their choice had been remotely acceptable was because there had been many, many other pieces in motion; That wishful thinking rarely worked and that, maybe, this was the Norn's curious ways of figuratively throwing a bone at them after so many times making them miserable.
To try and compensate for person that did not have as much luck as Menodora, maybe.
"There is no victory, nor honour, in taking advantage of someone who is already suffering -you talk about that time as if it had been sunshine and rainbows, but it was not"
For they remembered the angst, the heavy pauses, the moments of fugue and how Mena had tried to cling to anything that could maybe give her answers about who she had been.
"I am glad you pulled through. That there are many people out there besides me that care for your well-being enough to actively fight for it"
They did not have any details about what had changed or how-
-but given Stella's threat and the Comission's actions? They could fill in the blanks just fine.
They lower their head, pressing their forehead to hers in silent affection
Then the question comes.
"I am note quite sure, myself" they admit with voice lowered "Mjaunie, I am afraid, will never be the same as they one I once knew. Times change, people change, and even places do -tomorrow's Mjaunie is as foreign to me as any other place"
It's a bittersweet thing to admit: that time has erased the vague idea of what Home had once been and that they no longer belonged to the place that saw them live their first of everything.
This was not quite like outgrowing one's birthplace, not like expanding your horizons, no, it was like...being dragged away by waves without even noticing it.
"And Swynlake is...terribly odd for my tastes. The bi-annual catastrophe and the collective dreams are not necessarily quite to my liking, nor their over-reliance on..."
The word 'magic' is left unsaid, but remains very present.
"I guess I will cross that bridge when I get to it -or whoever the phrase goes"
Sunshine and rainbows... To Mena, it felt like it most of the time. Menodora recalls echoes of her own voice. Weightless, unburdened. Chipper and happy and quite different from who she was naturally. Or perhaps that’s who she was via nurture, given the fact that maybe Mena was who she would have been - naturally - if not for the weight of Mjaunie on her shoulders.
A long time ago, she had been happy-go-lucky. A long time ago, she’d been someone entirely different than what Mjaunie had made her. Or maybe that was what Tófi had made her. On purpose? By consequence? It doesn’t matter now, it’s done.
Assigning blame doesn’t fix the problem.
“It was nice for a time,” Moon admits, averting her gaze. Looking just off from their eyes. “I remember the good of it, the bad being suppressed or buried by the spell when it could be. I remember you had tried to tell me something — my name — and everything had shifted. There’s a gap there, a blank. I don’t remember what I said between that and us merely discussing…”
That hurtful conversation between them.
She lets her hesitation and silence speak for her.
“It was Stella who won me back,” Menodora says, “though she had help. I’m not sure if it was the spell she tried to counter-act with, or her own magic by itself. Do you remember my mother’s pies. The ones she used to bake for my birthday. She offered you a slice on my 10th birthday, that one where you indulged me with a class outside. It was the same one as back then. It tasted the same.”
The memory emerges in her mind piece by piece, resurfacing from its long dormancy. Tófi explaining to her the history (albeit revised) of her family’s reign, their responsibilities. She wonders how often they had cursed The Commission for the curriculum. They were outside on the veranda, Menodora scribbling down her notes on the subject. Her mother, radiant as always in her golden curls and blue eyes, bringing them lunch (tea sandwiches) with blackberry pie for dessert. Ice cream as well. Her love was stored in flavor, in food. Even if it wasn’t magic, her love was magic in itself.
There is a brief moment where Menodora wonders what Tófi’s relationship with her mother was. They seemed to co-exist rather well, her mother appreciative of Tófi’s efforts to rein in her child’s wandering mind.
Were they friends? Or was Tófi’s deferential smile always gritted, just out of sight?
Her had always inclined her head when the two of them — her and Mr Sethson — would pass each other in a corridor.
A tear nearly escapes Menodora as she looks up to Tófi’s face. This was a glamour. These were not the same eyes that Comitessa would have seen when Tófi had assassinated her.
Assigning guilt didn’t fix the problem, either.
Tófi lowers their head to hers. Menodora closes her eyes for a moment, letting her heavy musings slowly melt back into the back of her mind. Affection is what is conveyed. Affection is what Menodora feels back, even if it was complicated. And wrong.
“I wish I’d understood back then,” Menodora says, a softness to her voice that surprises her, “all that you’d lost. All that you gave up to be my tutor. I was too short-sighted to see it. I was too short-sighted to see beyond my own estate.”
Menodora loved Swynlake, she did. She loved the people she’d met, she loved the person she became - even if she loathed that person as well. Change was painful in ways Menodora had expected. In ways she hadn’t as well.
“I hope you find somewhere you can call home. And who knows? Perhaps, in some amount of years, whether in my lifetime or otherwise, Mjaunie will be a place you could find it in yourself to call home again. I want that for you, and every mon— (a clearing of the throat) —and every person that was every unfairly treated by myself and my family. I hope it can be rebuilt. I hope—… I hope it gets better.”
Jack nearly barked, but thankfully, he was sipping his drink at that exact moment, and so he merely choked on the liquor. Jerking his head away, some spittle ran out of his mouth, dribbled down his chin, before he grabbed a napkin and patted himself clean.
Bah! Fucking hilarious. The way this lady made Oz sound like some heartsick besotted little....
Jack's stomach suddenly felt queasy. Anyway! What did this woman know?
"Did you? Did I deserve it?" Jack ignored the Oz comments completely, cocking an eyebrow at the mention of pen violence.
Did he deserve...? Menodora tilted her head, smiled. She'd thought he might say something further about Oswald but there is no follow up. Menodora doesn't press. Oswald shouldn't be her concern anymore, even if she is concerned about him. And... Ozzy, or whoever.
"It was an accident," Menodora says with a slightly raised brow. "I'd been fidgeting, as I often do. Why, is there a crime you may be guilty of that would warrant it?"
There's something almost teasing in her tone, though maybe something also uneasy.
"I wouldn't think so. But you never know. You could be hiding some fantastic secrets."
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"But you're trying-" Hercules reminded her, with the naivety of a child. He still could not quite make these two versions of the person in front of him occupy the same space. Sure, sometimes Menodora made comments that jarred him but... the idea she fought against magicks? That she felt so responsible for oppressing them?
How could he ever quite reconcile that with the woman who sat in front of him, smiling ever-so-slightly-sheepishly as if they were discussing nothing important?
"I hope it's see you later," he said, sighing a little to himself, before he drove the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and drive away the trace of the tears that wanted to fall. What else could he say?
"You're a better person than you think you are, Menodora," he reminded her, lifting his head again to try and break out a smile for her. "And I hope you get to come back to say a proper goodbye before you move somewhere else."
That would be a better version to imagine, wouldn't it?
Menodora looked up at Hercules, her expression some melding of sympathetic and helpless. She doesn't know how she could possibly make this better for him. Just earlier, she'd cheerfully barged into his establishment to invite him for lunch.
Her intention was to find out what he wanted as a gift, to say thank you. Maybe to say goodbye.
This is not how Menodora wanted this interaction to go.
Hercules retracted his hands, staving off tears. Guilt resonates between Menodora's ribs.
"It's 'see you later,'" Menodora assures, with no idea whether or not it was a lie. "You're not rid of me, yet, Hercules."
She reaches into her bag and passes him a light blue, embroided handkerchief.
"Only if you'd like," she says, softly. "But, Hercules..."
She starts, though realizes she doesn't know what she means to say. Menodora wishes she could sip on her drink right now, but it was empty. She taps her fingers together in a rhythm. A self-soothing tendency she wishes she'd outgrow.
"I'll send you so many postcards of my adventures, it's like I'd never left. You'll be inundated with verbose musings about something as mundane as the weather." She smiles then, brighter than it had been. Yes, that is the better future. "You'll have so many words from me, it'll be like I never left."
But this was research! Just because he had his own club now didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy the fruits of others... perhaps take something here and there as well. He expected beautiful Jessica Rabbit to do the same kinda thing. Or she could try-- but she was so beneath him, magic-wise, he doubted she could ever truly rise to Pierrot's experience.
And that was fine because they both had very different experiences anyway, didn't they?
So today, Jack had ordered every cocktail on the menu. He sniffed them, licked the sugar, salt, and tajin rims (depending on the drink). He'd just smacked his lips and slurped a particular spicy margarita when someone caught his attention.
Oh! It was Oswald's... what was her name?
Clearly, she knew him. So Jack would just have to pretend to remember her name.
"Ahhhh, yes! That's me. Sort of," Jack said. "We're business partners, at least. Not sure about friends." He chuckled.
It was an impressive group of drinks, of course. Menodora's tolerance wasn't nearly so much. Still, she couldn't help but appreciate Jack's meticulous attention to detail.
She almost feels bad to disturb him.
"Not friends?" But... Menodora withholds a frown, remembering that Jack was - in fact - Oswald's supposed only other friend. Only other real friend?
She supposed she's been crossed off the friend list already, though. Given the truly spectacular crashout, then collision, the two of them had in his apartment.
Her fault. Of course.
"I thought Oz thought the world of you," she says, brows knit in confusion. "Though, that's not my business. Sorry, I'm not trying to intrude on your relationship. Honestly, I'm a bit surprised to see you at the Court, instead of Pierrot. I think the last time we met..." she pauses, tries to remember if he'd ever met Mena... "No, it was here, wasn't it? I threw a pen at you by accident..."
Characters: Stella Butterfly @stellabfly, Menodora Perhonen
Mentioned: Cass Hamada @auntcass-hamada
When: Early March 2026
Summary: Cass, Moon, and Stella drive to a gateway to Mjaunie, hoping to make it to the Magic Sanctuary and earn Glossaryck’s aid against the Commission.
Related:
◆ The Countess Butterfly - Stella challenges the Commission. The fate of Mjaunie is in Stella’s hands.
◆ Mjaunie Succession Plot Directory - Links to the major beats of the arc/plot
[Read Here or Below]
MENODORA
There was a unique sort of rush that flooded Menodora as they drove at a responsible speed down the country road. Her hair whipping only slightly as the wind blew through the car between cracked windows. Clean air and grass and all those other scents and senses flooding her.
Had Menodora ever been on a road trip? What a silly question; the answer was no. The farthest drive she’d enjoyed was to and from the airport, and even then, dread had filled her in a myriad of ways.
It filled her now, even if she was pushing it down.
Cass was behind the wheel, going at a sensible speed. Stella was in the backseat, Google Maps directions playing from her phone. Menodora sat in the front passenger seat, focusing on the sensations of everything around her to keep the worry at bay.
They were headed to what Menodora could only explain as a pre-existing, teleporting portal. A secret door that relocated after every use, activated by bursts of concentrated magic.
This one had apparently been etched into a cliff by the sea for some time, according to Eilonwy, who’d tracked it down against all odds. With England’s general mistrust of magicks, the door had been left alone by the few who had even recognized it. Besides, no one would even know where it went!
Well, Menodora knew. Sort of. In this case, they would use the portal to get to the Magic Sanctuary in Mjaunie. Menodora hadn’t been in years, and she figures that must be by design.
A temple to magic built in the ruins of what might have been a temple to monsters. Guilt churns in Menodora’s stomach then. She tries to banish it like bile.
This would be fine. They’d track down Glossaryck, ask him to help them against the Commission, and everything would be fine. No need for executions.
This is the part where Mjaunie is no longer a fairytale.
“Stella, does it tell you how much farther we are?”
STELLA
They were actually doing this. They were actually here, going through with this whole wild plan. Of course, it was her fault they had to do this in the first place. She couldn’t help but feel guilty, sitting in the back seat, looking at her wand more than the maps on her phone. She ran her thumb over the gemstone set in the middle. All of the things that had gone so wrong, not just with her but the whole history of her home, that led to this.
She had to wonder if it was all worth it to those in control. Was Mjaunie really worth it to the commission? Or was it just a stepping stone to the potential for even wider spread destruction and control?
It was terrifying, really, knowing that not only her family’s lives, but the lives of all those deemed “Monsters” in Mjaunie were at stake.
Her mother’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Hm? Oh, um… yeah, just a few more kilometers, then you’ll turn left,” she said, not glancing up from her wand. This wasn’t hers, though. Not really. She was still in possession of the Family Wand. How much harm had this one object done? Was there any fixing what her family had broken?
MENODORA
Everything was stiff and awkward between herself and Stella. Despite their growing resolve, their personal lives were still in desperate need of repair. Mending these things takes time, of course, but Menodora wishes she could have a wand or snap her feelings and reassure Stella with words like a hug.
Menodora glances at Cass, confirming the directions, before she turns in her seat to look back at Stella.
Her little girl, all grown up.
Sometimes River used to drive them down to the southern point of Mjaunie, a lively area with local stalls and businesses. It felt extravagant to take a car when they could walk, but at the same time, there was a certain thrill to being in a motor vehicle.
Stella used to try to free herself from her car seat. Menodora can't remember if they still did that by the time Stella was in a booster seat.
“Talk to me, Starlight, are you okay?”
It's a stupid question. So she follows it up with, “what are you thinking about?”
STELLA
What was she thinking about? What wasn’t she thinking about right now. She kept looking out the window, not really wanting to look at her mother. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look at her, no. That sounded wrong. She couldn’t look at her. She couldn’t bear to look at anyone right now. She could barely stand the glimpses of her reflection in the window.
“It’s just a lot,” she finally said softly. “It’s… I know things were bad before, but if we can’t do this then they’ll be so much worse and—” it would be all my fault. She doesn’t voice that part. Just sniffles a bit, hugging her arms around herself tighter.
“I’m thinking of all the things that could go wrong. All the ways we could get caught. All the worst case scenarios,” she murmured. “For a while I wouldn’t think about those at all, I was just being positive and hoping this would all work out, but… I guess those thoughts had to come out sometime.”
MENODORA
Stella's fears and worries are justified. Make sense. Menodora turns back in her chair, having noticed the way Stella would look anywhere but at her.
“It was silly of me to have asked,” Menodora says softly, though it's meant to be a comfort. “Of course it's a lot, I didn't mean to trivialize it.”
She glances at Cass for a moment, wondering what Cass would do right now. Cass was always good at the ‘reassuring’ thing.
“There's no scenario where I won't be by your side, Stella,” Menodora says, trying to muster up confidence in her tone. “Nothing is broken forever, we can make this better. Make this right, alright? You can be very persuasive, and you have a good cause. Surely Glossaryck can't deny you at least the time to hear you out. He may be laissez-faire, but he's not heartless.”
STELLA
Stella gave her mother a quick wave of her hand, dismissing the comment. She didn’t trivialize it. Not intentionally. For once, this seemed like her mother was genuinely trying to connect. Not dismiss Stella’s fears as silly or childish, not even to trivialize this situation. But what else do you even ask someone in such a situation?
Especially as she continued. Stella glanced her mother’s way, the smallest smile at the edge of her lips. At least Moon saw the flaws now. Finally. That the system was broken; she all but said that out loud.
“But…” she started, not really wanting to finish. “But what if he doesn’t listen? Or what if he refuses to help? What are we— what do I—?” She could feel her heart rate rising knowing how the pendulum would swing if they couldn’t convince him. All of them made enemies of Mjaunie, all being tried and executed for being and conspiring with monsters. She tried to take deep calming breaths, slow and steady like she’d done before the play. Calm. She could be calm. She could do this. They would do this.
MENODORA
They’ve come a long way from early morning fights at the breakfast table. Arguing and storming off and then arguing some more. It felt like all these topics that they danced around or didn’t feel quite as obvious – the corruption and unfairness of Mjaunie’s system, the unrealistic expectations it foisted upon them – were allowed to live in the light. Be seen as the ugly truths that they both knew them now to be.
“If he doesn’t listen..” Menodora starts, though she doesn’t entirely know how to finish. It’s a good question. Then what? What can any of them do in that case? “Then we still stand in front of the Commission and make our case and try to convince the commission to split their own vote–...”
The will to finish that thought seems to die slowly. And what? Let Stella die? Because Menodora was too focused on decorum and propriety and pride? To finish out a trial that might end with them dead? It would be easy to run, allowing cowardice to take over, but to do so would be to leave monsters at Mina Loveberry’s mercy.
No one wins in any scenario, really. Winning the challenge, though, feels like the least amount of harm, at least.
“We will ask Glossaryck for help and if we fail we figure something else out,” Menodora says with a soft smile, trying to be reassuring. It likely falls flat, though. Menodora’s never done well with uncertainty.
STELLA
For as much as Stella and her mother had their differences, for as many flaws as they both had, one thing Stella so rarely saw from her mother was uncertainty. Especially in situations such as this. Where things mattered, where the county was involved. Sure, in the past her mother’s view of the commission and their policies was flawed but she at least spoke with conviction about them.
So the hesitancy here was stressful to say the least. She wished Moon would tell her she was being silly for being so worried but they were so far past that.
“Okay,” she said softly, giving her a small nod. They would figure it out. They had to. Even if they had to go on the run, even if they had to fight the commission, Stella was determined to figure something out.
She just hoped Glossaryck would listen.
MENODORA
Moon turns to face forward, watching the road come and come and come. The more distance they cross, and yes, they could go back if they so chose. Physically, they could go back to Swynlake and try to make a case. Possibly seek legal help. That would be a mundane option. That would be an option that made sense.
Nothing seemed to make sense to Moon anymore. In the past year, everything had turned on her and Stella. Their lives were on the line, and if not their lives, their way of life.
Menodora glances over at Cass, who seems to be doing them the courtesy of letting them talk without judgment or commentary.
“I won’t let them hurt you, Stella,” Menodora promises, though she truly wonders how much of that is, well, a lie. “We’ll figure it out, we’ll get answers. And even if Glossaryck won’t help us, I’ll pour over the charter and come up with something. We’ve got a little under a month. We can do this.”
STELLA
Stella was focusing on the passing scenery again. Thinking about all her friends at home. And how much she had to explain, how much she failed to explain. Would she tell them if this was all going to shit? She’d tell Mim of course, and there was an obligation and need to tell Banzai as well, but the others? Her friends that didn’t sit as close to this side of her life, would she burden them with the feelings and fear and stress of her potential demise? Or just let them wonder “hey whatever did happen to Stella Butterfly?”
It wasn’t herself that she was worried about. It was everyone else. It was every Monster she’d be sending to a life of misery and potentially torture in Mjaunie if this failed this. It wasn’t just her life on the line, and in some ways that was the one that was the least of Stella’s concerns.
“Yeah,” she said softly, not turning back to look at Moon. “We can do this.”
Characters: Stella Butterfly, Menodora Perhonen
When: January 1st, 2026
Summary: Stella and Menodora discuss their plan moving forward.
Related:
◆ The Countess Butterfly - Stella challenges the Commission. The fate of Mjaunie is in Stella’s hands.
◆ A Recipe to Remember - Stella, Mim, and Cass bake an enchanted pie with the goal of breaking Moon’s memory curse.
◆ Everglow - Stella bring Mena the enchanted pie in hopes of breaking the memory curse. Stella and Moon reunite
@stellabfly
[Read Here or Below]
Menodora Perhonen
It was... strange, actually, waking up as herself. Waking up and truly being able to say she was Menodora Eline Perhonen Butterfly-Johansen, the name she couldn't keep in her mind when Tófi had told her. The name she couldn't retain when she was Mena.
Another New Year's Day waking up in the reading chair in the living room. She'd fallen asleep there after calming Stella to a point of sleep. Menodora had pulled a throw blanket over her daughter, set some water on the coffee table, and mulled over the implications of what Stella had told her.
Stella had challenged The Commission, and all of their lives were on the line if they lost. The only way to save not only themselves but all the monster in Mjaunie was to beat them. And how to do that? Find Glossaryck, a djinn who Menodora hadn't seen in years at this point.
The worry spun, but Menodora was far too tired to ruminate all night and soon after Stella, she too had fallen asleep.
Sun had streamed through the window, signaling morning, and Menodora couldn't even tell that she'd slept. It felt like a blink, and suddenly the world was back again. Her mind was recalibrating to being her. Her.
And right now, she would make some breakfast for her daughter whenever she woke.
It was a small thing, but compared to this time last year, Menodora hopes that they could be better. That she could be. That she could do right by Stella and that everything would be okay between them...
Breakfast is almost done when Stella begins rousing, and Menodora wonders if it's the noise or smell of breakfast being made that wakes her.
It's then that there's a slight fear that comes over her. Did... were she and Stella okay? She knows that they had hugged last night, but that didn't mean that they were alright. Menodora had promised that there wasn't anything that they, together, couldn't fix, but the idea of challenging the commission.... it was a big task. It was, perhaps, an impossible feeling one.
And besides the grandeur of that monumental undertaking, there was also the fact that this was the first time in months and months that Menodora, as herself, was facing Stella. The last time they'd spoken, really spoken, was during their failed magic lesson. Moon had rejected Stella back then, unwilling to acknowledge the truth of their family's lineage and the consequence -- those dark marks on her own arms -- of her deal with Eclipsa...
There was no use drowning in thoughts of that now. Stella sits up and Menodora... Moon... smiles at her, forcing a cheery tone.
"Good morning, Starshine," Menodora says brightly, though unable to meet her daughter's eyes. "I've got breakfast almost ready if you'd like some. I've got some juice, and I've made some coffee but honestly can't remember if you like it. Do you? I can make more."
Stella Butterfly
As soon as the shock and, admittedly, relief and joy of having her mother back settled, Stella had immediately began to spiral. She told her mother everything. Everything that had happened since Hekapoo picked her up in Ralph's apartment to making the pie with Cass and Mim. She told her about her discoveries, about Eclipsa and actually going through the forest and finding, about bringing her to Swynlake, about Ralph and what he had done, about his own trial with Hekapoo and the truth of what he'd done spurring her to challenge the commission. Word vomit of terrible thing after terrible thing, confiding in her mother her stress and fears like she'd never done before.
Because maybe there was a small part of her that understood her better now. She'd been in her shoes, even for a brief time. And she had hated every second. She hated it so much that she found the truth and decided to put a stop to it. Some might call it breaking a cycle. Perhaps she was, regardless of the outcome of this Challenge. Either way, this was going to be a new era in Mjaunie, for better or worse.
She didn't remember falling asleep. She vaguely remembers her mother soothing her, bringing her a blanket and tucking her in. When she wakes up in the morning, her hair a bit of a mess from how she'd slept, her eyes groggy with sleep, she has a moment of not knowing where she is. Her mouth is dry and her eyes burn, dehydrated from all her crying. She sits up and looks around, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes when finally she sees Moon.
Stella tries to smile but she's not a morning person, so its tired and unenthused. But it is genuine--it comes from a genuine place in her.
"Hi," she says, clearing the sleep from her throat. She squints against the sun streaming in through the window. "What-- Oh, um... sure?" she stretches as she sits up more. "Sometimes I like coffee but... juice sounds good. Maybe some water too, please?" she hates how tacky the inside of her mouth feels.
And for a moment she truly doesn't remember all the horrors she'd spilled the night before. She's still in this space of waking up where the world isn't quite real and things are a little less serious.
Menodora Perhonen
For a moment, Menodora braces for rejection. She braces for the possibility that Stella will have decided that it was a mistake to confide in her mother; Stella might hate her once again for things that would be entirely appropriate to hate her for.
Instead, Stella says hi, and it's not saying that everything was alright, but it's not an outright rejection. Menodora smiles at that. She's grateful.
She brings Stella a glass of water and orange juice, setting them on the side table. It's cautious, overall. Not so much that she was worried about spills, but because this proximity to Stella felt foreign.
"I've got pancakes," Menodora says, straightening her posture and walking back towards the kitchen. "Also some fresh fruit, and if you'd rather have a parfait I can do that."
Perhaps it's silly to be so nervous around Stella, but there was another component to this that Menodora didn't want to address. How was it so easy as Mena to say the things that Menodora only wished she would as herself.
I'm proud of you, being the most prominent thing. Yes, Menodora had said it when she'd given Stella the shears, but saying it as Mena when Stella was going to face her quest - that Mena hadn't even known what it was?
There's a shame burning in Menodora's chest for that.
Why was she better when she was not her?
Every time. Every time, in every dream, in every reality? Why?
"I suppose," Menodora says, stacking some pancakes on a serving plate, "that we have to talk about what you told me last night. And a plan for moving on."
Stella Butterfly
“Pancakes sound good,” she says, yawning. “Thank you.”
She sits there for a moment, hearing her mother in the kitchen. It’s like some weird alternate reality that she’s woken up in. A world where everything is fine and they’re both normal.
The bubble pops as Moon brings up the obvious.
“Right,” she says. “I… um… which part?” She’d said a lot of things.
And maybe if she weren’t so tired it would’ve clicked that obviously there was only one part she probably wanted to come up with a plan for.
Her mind is mostly focused on the smell of pancakes filling the apartment.
Menodora Perhonen
She sees Stella's trepidation and Moon's heart stops for a moment. Is she saying the wrong thing? Has she gone too fast? Stella asks which part and Moon tilts her head. Though, then she recalls all those times that they'd fought over Stella getting up in the morning, even erupting into full-on shouting matches. Moon remembers she ought to be patient so she serves Stella's mean at the table.
"Well, I suppose how to move forward with finding Glossaryck and ensuring you win the challenge for Mjaunie. I'm not countess anymore, I don't think I ever shall be again, so I ought to defer to you, don't you think?"
Menodora brings her own plate and coffee to the table, sitting across from where Stella's seat was.
"Syrup, Starlight?" Moon offers, sliding the dispenser towards her.
Stella Butterfly
Her mother deferring to her made her wonder if she was still asleep and this was some weird dream. But no. It was very clearly reality. Because if it was a dream the whole challenge thing wouldn't even be mentioned.
"Right, yeah," she nods, feeling a little queasy. Thankfully there's food, so hopefully that solves the problem.
"Thank you," she says as she takes the syrup, drowning the poor unsuspecting pancakes in it. "Um, yeah, I guess if you... have any insight on where I could find Glossaryck, that'd... be a big help?" it felt weird talking to her mother about all of this. Like her memories came back and some sort of switch flipped and everything was different between them now.
It wasn't, she knew, but there were bigger issues at hand. And it was clear to them both, it seemed, that despite it all, they cared deeply for each other. So that may be enough of a resolution to that conflict for now.
Menodora Perhonen
That's something Moon's not too easily able to help with. The whereabout of Glossaryck have been a mystery to Menodora for as long as she can remember. At least, when he wasn't at the estate... Menodora's shoulders slump slightly and she looks rather reproachful.
"I'm sorry," she says, quietly, "I don't know." It sounded like quitting. It sounded like giving up. She shakes her head and looks up at Stella, "but that doesn't mean I can't try to find out. I'll give it some thought, alright, darling? I'm sure I have a memory or two I can share somewhere, they just might not have come back to me yet."
She smiles, trying to be optimistic. "It was interesting. When I was a child, he seemed relatively indifferent to current events. Always made a big deal about getting away to enjoy the fresh air, you know. A djinn and all, he wasn't tethered the Mjaunie the way that we were. I always got the impression he'd stay for a strategy meeting and then go off to wherever he could to observe from afar."
The thought strikes Moon then that she wasn't aware of how much Stella knew from that time. Nothing, probably, if Stella didn't find it on her own or Elsa hadn't shared Moon's memories with her.
"He wasn't interested in politics," Menodora admitted. "Just the pure principals of magic. I don't think he sees or saw the effects or consequences of war. Just.... magic in use. And nature running it's course."
Stella Butterfly
It was interesting to hear more about Glossaryck, even if Moon didn't know where he was. Which was... a wrench in the plan for sure, but at least she could get some information about who he was as like, a guy. Maybe she could put some pieces together?
"So how'd he get involved in it all, anyway? If he didn't seem that interested in the politics side. That's like, all the Commission seems concerned with, really. So why does he default to side with them?" she wondered, a little frustrated about all of this still.
She took a bite of her breakfast to try to calm down.
"He always seemed connected to that Book of Spells," she recalled. "Could there be answers in there about where he might run off to? Or... a way to summon him back? Do you think there's any way to get that back from the Commission?"
Menodora Perhonen
Menodora sighs. "I think," Menodora says, quietly, "he came with the territory. In the sense that he's been around forever, either drawn to Mjaunie when our family first arrived or, more of my suspicion, tying himself when they they proved magical prowess. I'd say Glossaryck was more interested in magic for magic's sake. It's why he stuck around so long. I... At this point, with so many wars, it's possible we could have even bored him after all the skirmishes."
She thinks, has another bite of breakfast herself.
"I think it's because The Commission asked and Glossaryck agreed. He doesn't feel particularly strongly about anything, and he doesn't care for presiding over matters that don't concern him. This would not concern him. Even if I think it should."
Moon's face is more serious now. She does wonder how Glossaryck could have possibly gone so long as a steward of a land he seemed to lack investment in. His binding to the place was possibly a reason. Or perhaps it was a way to control him as an incredibly powerful djinn.
Stella asks if it's possible to get the book back and Menodora grimaces. It was a good thought, but, "I doubt the Commission would let us take it. Let you take it. By asking or by force. It's a good idea, though. I recall bits and pieces of the histories that weren't taught to you. By my own tutor, actually. I must wonder if there's something in them that could give us some answers."
Stella Butterfly
That all felt like it would have been something important to learn in one of her history classes. Then again, half the stuff she'd discovered during her stint as countess probably should have been taught to her, but as it turned out the Commission was super full of liars and hypocrites.
Her heart sunk when her mother said this wouldn't concern him. Because... well, it was wrong. So what if he was a being above mortal concerns, this should concern him! If he wasn't on the Commissions side, they would probably hunt him down and lock him back in the book.
"Does your tutor remember the whole book? That thing's like... huge," she said. Then, she remembered who her mother's tutor was and she frowned. "Could we actually trust them more than the commission? What if they lie to us too?"
Menodora Perhonen
Menodora has to think on that one. Would Tófi have remembered it? Tghey didn;'t seem to care for it at all.
"I doubt it. It's been years, and when they cut ties with our family line... well, I don't know if it's worth asking." There's a distance in her smile. "I doubt they're interested in helping, either."
There's a deep sigh building in Menodora's chest. She feels the weight of hopelessness pressing down on her shoulders, but now's not the time. She's to come up with solutions and help Stella.
Her thoughts drift. She turns her fork in her hand.
"I-- I have to think that there's some place in Mjaunie that Glossaryck is most likely to be. Somewhere he'd have an affinity for. I'll have to look in my books, but I might... I might be able to come up with something. The issue, though, becomes getting to Mjaunie, even if we track him down. Hekapoo will know if you cross a portal... let alone myself, who should have no business with portals if my memory is still failing. No, this is going to take some creative problem solving."
The sigh is released and Menodora gives Stella the most earnest attempt at reassurance that she can.
"Let me think on it, Starlight. I may be able to come up with something. Either with my tutor, or alone." She taps her fingers lightly on the table top - a nervous habit she wishes she could shed - before redirecting her attention. "Let's focus on breakfast for now... and after? We'll figure something out."
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It’s the sort of humid day that Menodora associated with mornings on the moors. Rain had washed over Swynlake overnight and now everything felt heavier, even the air. Denser, like fog. Or, perhaps that was just the fact that Menodora was still orienting herself to her new-ish life, despite it being a month and change since she’d accepted that her life would just be a lie until further notice. That would leave a fog in someone’s brain for sure.
She ends up at the Court after a quick trip into The Lucky Cat to say hi to Cassandra. It’s Cass who keeps her the most grounded, the most not-alone. Not being able to speak with Stella or River left Menodora feeling highly unmoored. Even Oswald had fallen away from her every day life, considering the facts of their last encounter and the revelation there.
Menodora sighs into her drink, fogging the edge of the glass.
She was nursing the same white wine for the past however many minutes when someone catches her eye.
Oh. They’ve spoken before, haven’t they?
Menodora shifts down the bar a few seats, finds herself next to someone she’s somewhat familiar with, though not nearly enough.
“Jack, wasn’t it?” She asks, happy for a somewhat familiar face. She might have recognized him previously as Mena, though it wasn’t as if they’d spoken. Would she have remembered him? “We met here before. You’re Oz’s friend, aren’t you?”
'I don't like endings' she admits, voice soft, after thinking about it for a moment.
And if this were any other situation, any other person, Tófi would most likely wax poetic about difference between endings and beginnings, being nothing but an illusion, about cycles, about resilience and the bizarre nature of life-
-but they also understand where she is coming from, has a vague idea of how her experiences have shaped her and how, unlike them, she navigates the limited time she has been given.
So they merely nod, gaze softened.
'I've always had a hard time letting go.'
"I am somewhat glad that is the case" they admit, not thinking about their words until they hear them out loud.
They pause, then decide to elaborate.
"I like you better than Mena" which may, admittedly, sound a little cruel "I prefer when you are conscious of things, even the unpleasant ones, when you can be the you that is composed of little parts of everyone you have loved so far instead of a freer-yet-hollow version of yourself -the one that exists because you refuse to let go"
Of memories, of people.
And it is curious, ironic even, how they so openly admit how they will miss the other when they are gone, how the relatively brief time they have spent together has shaped them into a different version of themselves.
Tófi is no longer the angsty rebel, nor the somewhat standoffish tutor, but a worse third thing; And Menodora is no longer the innocent and carefree child, nor the jaded and reluctant warrior, but...a different person, that both encompasses that and is more than.
She is tired, scared, remorseful, but she is also wiser, and silently hopeful, she is learning, she is-
-kissing them. Huh.
Well, that is surprising -not unwelcome, mind, just surprising.
It feels natural, in a way: like a little gesture to express gratitude, like complicity, like fondness. This is not quite tainted by unnecessary labels or implication and, instead, just is.
And once it is done, things do not change a bit.
"I had hoped that you would return" they admit, voice lowered "and knew that you would be beyond mad if you came back to your senses just to realize that I had been less than helpful during your...moment of weakness"
Tófi pauses.
"I did not want to trouble any further. This was your chance to embrace a different life, free of the burdens of the past, if you had wanted"
They shake their head, chuckling, entertained by the whole thing.
"I did not want to accept it, hoped against hope and, admittedly, hated myself for allowed myself to do so -but also knew that letting go was the best, given the context"
Ah, there it is again: the fine, fine line between letting go and carrying on.
"But I am glad that you came back, that life gave us this chance to reunite and, maybe, voice some of the things that we did not have the opportunity to freely discuss, before"
It's nice to hear that they prefer her -- the real her -- to the Mena that she'd been. In a way, Menodora had figured Mena was preferable to Moon in nearly every way. She was more fun, more laidback, more easy-going. She didn't have the burdens of a child warrior on her shoulders. Who wouldn't love Mena more?
Tófi, apparently.
Menodora's lip twitches, unsure whether to smile in gladness or sadness.
"Well, I appreciate that," she says, an embarrassed flush spreading across her cheeks. "It does my ego some good that my oldest friend wouldn't trade the real me for any other. You've seen me at my best and worst. Something has to be said for that."
The kiss is as unremarkable as Menodora expects. Truly, as unremarkable as she'd hoped. Her affections were often a muddled mess in her mind, wordless exchanges somehow clearer displays than paragraphs of explicit words.
For as much as she and Tófi speak, a soft kiss expressed more than she could possibly - coherently - convey in her current state.
Menodora tilts her head back with a bitter mirth - yes, both. "Well, you'd be correct. I'd be unbelievably cross if I'd discovered you'd taken advantage of my state -- moment of weakness, as you'd said."
She recalls that she's not as they remember.
Her dark hair, so unlike her mother's, no longer elaborately styled. Brown eyes. Clothes in softer fabrics, as opposed to formal and expensive textiles. Light colors, versus stark and severe tones.
Menodora wonders if she'd become a different person to Tófi far before her memory loss.
"I didn't know what I'd lost," Menodora murmurs. "Yes, it would be wonderful to live free of the weight of the past, but to do that, I would have had to trade my memories. That's not a trade I'd be willing to make ever. I'd lose Stella, and River, and you."
She looks at him intently. Her gaze is pointed.
"What are you going to do, Tófi," Menodora asks directly. "If we win this trial, your exile will be lifted, I imagine. Will you go back to Mjaunie in it's new form, try to regain some semblance of your old life? Will you stay in Swynlake? We talk so easily about my future... what about yours?"
"It's okay," Cass said reflexively, wanting to do what little she could to reassure her friend.
After all, Moon was the one who was having a hard time. She'd had her memories stolen! Her literal life was in danger! So was Stella's!!! She had big, real problems to deal with, and she was fresh off of getting her memories back and trying to rebuild her life. She was the one who deserved care and support.
Cass was just on the side. She was here. She was a side character in this story and that meant she needed to pull herself together.
"I'm just so glad you're back. You're here and you remember things and you talk like you again and just...I'm so glad. Um, more tea would be great."
It doesn't feel okay, but dwelling on that fixes nothing. Menodora tries to strike the balance between being reassuringly normal and authentic in her expression.
Still, Cass's joy that Moon's back to her normal self is heartwarming. It's a mercy that Cass has asked for more tea, which Menodora is happy to provide. Even if this is Cass's home.
She stands, takes Cass and her own mugs back to the kitchen... wonders what she could be doing better
Everything, is the self-critical answer. But in the realm of being friends, Menodora truly just wants to help make Cass's life easier. And, like she's told Cass directly, she'd rather Cass not be involved.
When Moon brings the mugs of tea back, she's made her decision. Mustered the resolve to try, at least a little bit, to be brave. Not in the way that Menodora has been taught, but in the way that Cass has been encouraging her, explicitly or not.
She'd going to be herself as best as she can.
"I'm here and I remember things and I have a slight affect if I say too many vowels," she says with a laugh. "And, honestly, it's good to be back. Memories no longer trapped in my head - pressing at my temples when I got too close to the truth. I shouldn't keep you too much longer, though. I fear I'm leaning a bit too much on Monica to watch the shop. Can we squeeze in a dinner some time next week? I feel like it might be more appropriate to spend time together when I'm not ambushing you with wave after wave of new information."
Hercules couldn't even pretend to follow what Menodora was talking about; about the system, about undermining it somehow and whatever Stella had done, but none of it made him feel any better.
Why should that mean that Menodora had to die, potentially? How could that be the way this ended, if Stella had challenged the system, didn't that mean that things could be changed.
"Not if you die it won't be!" He said, a little too loud (and earning them some very concerned looks from the table next to them, that made Hercules duck his head more.
"It's not right," he said, weakly and quietly as he tried to rein himself in once more. "I don't want that to be how it ends, not after everything you've been through- You've only just got your memories back!" How could it be fair, could these people, whoever they were, not just leave Menodora to stay here in Swynlake, away from it all?
Seemingly not. Hercules squeezed his eyes tight shut for a second as he tried to get control of himself again, before he reached across the table and laid his hands over hers. "You deserve better than that."
Maybe that was naive to hope for, and maybe it would change nothing, but Hercules felt like he had to say it.
Hercules raises his voice. Menodora shoots an apologetic look to the next table over. She ought to soothe him, but there's nothing she is sure will work. If anything, every additional comment she's made has caused him more distress.
"Hercules, it's an antiquated system. For all I know, it could be a scare tactic." She knows better, and maybe she ought to stop lying. No, she knows she should. Hercules could see through it, she's sure. And she promised herself, on and off as her nerves try and fail, to be truthful.
She exhales a defeated sigh. Clasps her hands in his.
"Do I? I'm not sure I do." She looks at him in a slightly imploring way. "I'm not a terribly good person, Hercules. Even with all my baked goods and gift baskets, I still fought a war against other magicks. I still perpetuated a system that hurt others. If anything, this is justice for crimes I'd long thought I'd swept under the rug."
Menodora remembers the shreds of apprehension Hercules bore when she'd mentioned her opinion against Monsters.
"Look, I didn't bring it up to worry you. I should have known better. I just... I would regret not saying goodbye to you. So I wanted to do that. I've lacked closure before, I didn't want that this time."
She shakes her head. "And even if I don't die, I think... I might not stay in Swynlake forever. So maybe it's not goodbye, but simply a 'see you later.' You don't need to worry about me, Hercules. I can handle myself."
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A Letter from a Friend; Scrawled in a Half-Script on Personalized Stationery
Written sometime in Late-Feburary
Dear @davidhatter,
Should I be calling you David or Hatter in an address of this kind Whichever you prefer, please imagine it as the greeting.
I apologize for falling out of touch. So much of our relationship has been built upon recollection of my mother's specialty that it seems in forgetting myself, I forgot you as well.
Isn't that wretched? I hope you can forgive me for it.
In any case, I'm planning some time away from town in a month's time, the sort of thing that I may not return from; or if I do, it may not be for a long time.
In the spirit of our friendship, I had hoped to get you a gift.
It's not much, I wish I could do more. After speaking with you on the matter, I found just the thing that might interest you. Which might be a fond reminder of our friendship in the case our paths seldom cross in the future.
You are, of course, welcome to write to me any time. The stationery here should reflect my home address correctly. The one in Denmark, to be exact.
Enclosed, you will find three separate handwritten stories and a recipe from each: Dinner from my third anniversary, lunch from my daughter's fifth birthday, and dessert from my own fiftieth birthday.
I hope you find them charming, but if not that - at least practical.
Perhaps you can get the buttercream frosting on the cake correctly. I always struggle, for all the baking I do. And if you manage to make the tea sandwiches from Stella's birthday picnic, I'd love to try them one day. I'll never be able to recreate them, I expect.
All in all, I wanted you to have these. And if you'd like more, I'd be happy to write more; provided you don't mind my slanted handwriting.
If you ever are in need of any more recipes, I advise you to reach out to Cassandra Hamada. She has a notebook full of my mother's old recipes. I'm sure the two of you would have a grand time deciphering my mother's handwriting, worse than my own, I fear.
My dear, I wish you congratulations on you marriage and thank you kindly for your friendship.
"Of course they can!" Hercules protested, blind faith throwing all caution to the wind. In that second he forgot any distrust of the police he might have felt, clinging to the mythology of them being ready to protect, to defend, to uphold justice as a child might.
"You-" He felt his hand shake slightly, his urge to try and grasp something to hold him steady but knowing that he couldn't. Anything he might touch might now might be turned into a crumpled heap of nothingness. "You can't just go off there expecting them to..." It was unthinkable, that she could simply walk away into whatever trap was awaiting her with its jaws ready to spring closed.
"You can't-" He protested, feeling suddenly very very small in a world he did not understand.
"I don't want anything." Herc added, feeling his eyes prickling and stinging with tears that he didn't want to fall; he didn't want her to see them fall. "I want you to not die."
Menodora doesn't want to fight. Especially about Mjaunie. She smiles pleasantly through Hercules's protests, knowing full well that might be a more direct route to an argument.
She was always so nonchalant about the things that harmed her. It was hard, she imagined, being her friend.
"Well, I would hope that it doesn't come to that. But I'm the case that it did..." she trails off, looking at Hercules with soft, sympathetic eyes. "I wanted you to know."
No matter if he wanted her to or not, Menodora could tell slightly teary eyes when she saw them. Or, at least when she paid attention. She reaches across the table to take Hercules's hand, though decides instead to rest her's over his given the tension in the conversation.
"Stella challenged the political system as a whole. Formally. Everything that Mjaunie is. There was a cost to that. A risk. I wouldn't go down without a fight but I don't know how much I can do, ultimately if we fail." She laughs a weak little laugh. "Hercules, everything will be alright. I just want to celebrate our friendship."