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So This is Love

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Reflection

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Spin the Dawn

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Oser ses rêves

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“She'd grown up with few friends. She'd played with the neighborhood boys, chasing pigeons and catching fireflies with them until it was no longer considered proper. By then, the girls in the village scorned her. In front of her mother and father, they pretended to be polite, but Mulan knew what they said about her behind her back. Ill-bred and ill-mannered. She has the temper of a firecracker and the grace of a bull. It's a miracle she even looks like a girl- look at the hay in her hair, and the dirt on her face. What a discredit to her mother! The insults had never bothered Mulan too much. Back then, her mother comforted her by telling her to ignore what people said, and talking to her father would always make her feel better. And she'd had Khan for company... then, later, Mushu and Cri-Kee.”

DifferentChildhoodFriendsTomboyMulan
Book:Reflection
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“With the last of my magic, I pledge to help Pinocchio become a real boy." She extended her hand to Chiara. "You remember what happened when our magics came together and struck your dove?" As if on cue, Chiara's white dove flew past them and landed on Ilaria's arm. "She came to life," Chia murmured. "Thanks to the two of us." "It takes two to make miracles happen," said Ily. "Will you do the honors?" Taking in a deep breath, Chiara nodded, and together, hand in hand, the sisters approached the lifeless Pinocchio. Prove yourself brave, truthful, and unselfish, and someday you will be a real boy. She touched her wand to Pinocchio's head. "Awake, Pinocchio. Awake." Magic brimmed across the young boy's still body, bringing him to life. His cheeks turned rosy, and his wooden nose became one made of flesh, the nails in his knees and elbows turning into joints and bone and muscle. Gone were his donkey ears and tail. "Papa!" he spoke. "Papa, I'm alive!" Geppetto rose from the sand, unable to believe his ears. But when he saw his dearest Pinocchio a real boy, his tears of sorrow turned to joy. He scooped his boy into his arms. "My son," he whispered. "You've come home." Chiara watched them, her heart full of relief and gladness. This was what made her love being a fairy--- the tender moments of joy, the proof that hope was never in vain.”

SistersFairiesFather And SonPinocchioChiaraBlue FairyGeppettoIlariaReal Boy
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“I must be drunk on moonlight to tell you this…but after I left you at Sparrow Inn, I…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t know anything about you, and yet I had never met anyone so determined—or brazen. Not even Megari.” He laughed, then his expression turned serious once more. “Somehow, I knew I would see you again. It was as if I could feel our strands crossing. Yet when you came to Iro, you seemed different. Sadder, more withdrawn. I’d look for you in the kitchen as Pao and I walked around the castle. I wanted to make you smile.”

LoveFateSmile
Book:Six Crimson Cranes
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“This garden was peaceful and calm. Pink cherry blossoms and violet plum blossoms graced the sweeping trees. The petals fell like snowflakes, dancing and swirling until they touched the soft, verdant grass. There was something familiar about this place. Her eyes traveled down the flat stone steps. She knew this path, knew those stones. The third one from the bottom had a crack in the middle- from when she was five and the neighbor's boy convinced her there were worms on the other side of the stones. She'd hammered the stone in half, eager to catch a few worms to play with. There weren't any, of course, but her mother had helped her find some dragonflies by the pond instead, and they'd spent an afternoon counting them in the garden. Mulan smiled wistfully at the memory. This can't be the same garden. I'm in Diyu. Yet no painter could have re-created what she saw more convincingly. Every detail was as she remembered. At the bottom of the stone-cobbled path was a pond with rose-flushed lilies, and a marble bench under the cherry tree. She used to play by the pond when she was a little girl, catching frogs and fireflies in wine jugs and feeding the fish leftover rice husks and sesame seeds until her mother scolded her. And beyond the moon gate was- Mulan's hand jumped to her mouth. Home. That smell of home- of Baba's incense from the family temple, sharp with amber and cedar; of noodles in Grandmother Fa's special pork broth; of jasmine flowers that Mama used to scent her skin.”

HomeGardenNostalgicChildhood MemoriesMulan
Book:Reflection
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“I have important things to tell you, but who can concentrate with all that racket?" That "racket" turned out to be because of flowers, hundreds of them, arriving by the cartful. Roses, orchids, lilies, daffodils, irises, and a dozen other varieties that she could not name. Heavy porcelain vases were mounted all around the grand ballroom and the royal gardens, displaying the arrangements in all their grandeur. But one arrangement stood out from the rest. From the duchess's window, Cinderella watched the gardeners erect a trellis studded with roses. When the palace staff wheeled out a barrow of flowers, white pearlescent roses intertwined with pink ones as flushed as the height of sunrise, she nearly gasped. Her parents' favorite flowers. White and pink roses, with a touch of myrtle. Charles had been listening.”

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Book:So This is Love
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“My mother used to grow roses in her garden. We'd pick them together every morning." She fell silent, remembering how she'd carried on the tradition with her papa after her mother died. One by one they'd cut the flowers, each still so fresh that dew glistened on its petals and trickled down her trembling fingers. "Eight pink roses, seven white ones, and three sprigs of myrtle," she murmured, pointing at the pink and white roses in the line of bushes. "What is that?" "It's what I would always bring Mama- the same arrangement my father presented to her when he'd asked her to marry him." The story of their courtship had been her favorite, one Papa had told her over and over. She'd never tired of it, never stopped asking him to tell it to her. Before her mother had died, he'd always ended the story with a smile, saying, "Your mother is my true love." Once she was gone, his expression became solemn, shadows sinking into the lines of his brow, his teeth clenched tight to keep from grimacing. Then he would say, "Your mother was my true love." So Cinderella had learned how one word could change everything. And she had stopped asking her father for the story.”

Love StoryRosesMother And FatherCinderellaBouquet Of Flowers
Book:So This is Love
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“How can we help them?" Chiara asked. "For a start, we help them listen to their conscience." Conscience. Agata had used that word before, when they'd first met. "I mentioned before that you have a strong sense of empathy, Chiara. It keeps you attuned to how others are feeling and gives you your compassion. Something all potential fairies must exhibit, for it is our empathy that keeps us from being cold and merciless like the Heartless. "But what I also noted was that you have a proverbial conscience as well, Chiara. Empathy without a conscience is like living with only half a heart. Your conscience is what motivates you to act. It is our compass, guiding us in the direction of doing what's right.”

EmpathyConscienceGuidanceChiaraBlue Fairy
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“My father used to tell me about the ancient heroes who protected China against demons. How the gods gave them magical stones or lanterns or swords to help them on their quests. But even then, the heroes weren't invincible. They knew fear and loss, yet they fought anyway, because they knew it was the right thing to do. Because in their hearts, they were brave and true." She bit her lip, reflecting on her father's stories. The heroes had always inspired her, even if none of them had been girls.”

InspirationalHeroesMulan
Book:Reflection
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“Ask anyone in Pariva, and they would have agreed that Chiara Belmagio was the kindest, warmest girl in town. Her patience, especially, was legendary. Then again, anyone who had grown up with a sister like Ilaria Belmagio---local prima donna in both voice and demeanor---and still considered her to be their best friend had to be nothing short of an angel. Chiara was newly eighteen, having celebrated her birthday a month earlier, in June, and she was the middle child of Anna and Alberto Belmagio, beloved owners of Pariva's only bakery. In short, she had modest ability on the harpsichord, favored blackberry jam over chocolate, and loved to read outside under her family's lemon tree, where she often helped children with their arithmetic homework and nurtured nests of young doves. Like her neighbors, she knew each name and face of the 387 people in Pariva, but unlike most, she took the time to make anyone she encountered smile, even grumpy Mr. Tommaso---who was a challenge. And she took pleasure in it.”

PatienceKindness And CompassionChiaraFavoredLocally
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“Pariva was a small village, unimportant enough that it rarely appeared on any maps of Esperia. Bordered by mountains and sea, it seemed untouched by time. The school looked the same as she remembered; so did the market and Mangia Road---a block of eating establishments that included the locally famous Belmagio bakery---and cypress and laurel and pine trees still surrounded the local square, where the villagers came out to gossip or play chess or even sing together. Had it really been forty years since she had returned? It seemed like only yesterday that she'd strolled down Pariva's narrow streets, carrying a sack of pine nuts to her parents' bakery or stopping by the docks to watch the fishing boats sail across the glittering sea. Back then, she'd been a daughter, a sister, a friend. A mere slip of a young woman. Home had been a humble two-storied house on Constanza Street, with a door as yellow as daffodils and cobblestoned stairs that led into a small courtyard in the back. Her father had kept a garden of herbs; he was always frustrated by how the mint grew wild when what he truly wanted to grow was basil. The herbs went into the bread that her parents sold at their bakery. Papa crafted the savory loaves and Mamma the sweet ones, along with almond cakes drizzled with lemon glaze, chocolate biscuits with hazelnut pralines, and her famous cinnamon cookies. The magic the Blue Fairy had grown up with was sugar shimmering on her fingertips and flour dusting her hair like snow. It was her older brother, Niccolo, coaxing their finicky oven into working again, and Mamma listening for the crackle of a golden-brown crust just before her bread sang. It was her little sister Ilaria's tongue turning green after she ate too many pistachio cakes. Most of all, magic was the smile on Mamma's, Papa's, Niccolo's, and Ilaria's faces when they brought home the bakery's leftover chocolate cake and sank their forks into a sumptuous, moist slice. After dinner, the Blue Fairy and her siblings made music together in the Blue Room. Its walls were bluer than the midsummer sky, and the windows arched like rainbows. It'd been her favorite room in the house.”

FamilyVillageItalianHometownBakeryChiaraBlue FairyTrue Magic
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“A tingle shot up Chiara's spine as she grabbed one end of Agata's wand. Power coursed through her and out the wand, joining with the other fairies' magic. What was more, as she held Agata's wand, she could feel the fear and awesome wrath coming from Monstro. It was a taste of wild power, so intense and strong she felt she could do anything with it. Now she understood why Monstro was so valuable to the Heartless. His wrath was never-ending, and it took little effort for her to sense that his wells of strength were immense. Chiara pushed Monstro's power aside and focused on Agata's instructions. She was supposed to wield the wand while thinking of her fondest dreams. She thought about all the mornings she had spent with Ily, making music together, making messes in their parents' bakery kitchen, tossing pistachio cookies and chocolate cakes at each other. Was it her imagination, or did a stream of pale blue magic course out of Agata's wand?”

NostalgiaWrathChiaraBlue FairyInner MagicMonstro
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“You have only hours until you go from palace servant to the future queen of Aurelais. Many will not take the news well, particularly not the blue-blooded young ladies who will resent the prince for rebuffing them for you." Cinderella thought of her stepsisters, who'd reveled for years in tormenting her. "I can handle it." When she did not elaborate, Genevieve appraised her. "When Charles declares that you are to be the princess of Aurelais, all attention will be on you. This is the first impression everyone will have of you. "You have natural grace, which most princesses take decades to learn, but it won't be enough. Nothing would ever be enough, even if you had been born royal." The duchess lifted Cinderella's chin so their eyes were level. "In my time, we stood by the three P's. I thought it was a bunch of hogwash, but I'll impart it to you anyway. It was essential that a princess be poised, pleasant, and-" "Pretty?" Cinderella guessed. "Presentable," corrected the duchess. "That's what all the wigs and powder and rouge were for. Nowadays, women are more after the natural look. Which, I suppose, isn't a problem for you." She hummed approvingly. "Now, what color gown should you like to wear tonight?" "Something blue," replied Cinderella thoughtfully. "It was my mother's favorite color, and I wish with all my heart she could have met Charles and seen us together." "That's a beautiful thought, Cindergirl.”

PrincessCinderellaNatural BeautyMemories Of MotherGenevieveBlue Dress
Book:So This is Love
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“No one is better suited for solving crimes." Meg cocked her head to one side, her fiery-red ponytail swaying in the light breeze. "If you consider the scheming I did for Hades crime work, then maybe. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is one small gig." A gig that would barely pay the rent, but she couldn't be choosy. There wasn't a large market for women who'd recently been freed from the Underworld, and she needed to make money.”

Jen CalonitaMegaraCrime SolvingGig
Book:A Twisted Tale Anthology
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“Hey... is there a tiny bow and arrow etched on this coin?" Meg smiled. "Yes. It's to remind you that your aim is true and to always trust your instincts," she said softly. "They've never steered you wrong before." Including about her. Even when she'd been conflicted, he'd seen the trueness of her heart. She'd saved him, then he'd saved her, and now they were ready to start something new together.”

Trust Your InstinctsJen CalonitaMeg And Hercules
Book:A Twisted Tale Anthology
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“I can think of no one better than Ariel to find a bridge between our two worlds." Ariel smiled back at him shyly. "It'll be a cultural exchange, too." Sebastian raised his claws in delight. "There's nothing that shows off Atlantica better than our music. Shall we have a concert to introduce this young merman to our kingdom?" "You can play your snarfblatt," said Ariel, still smiling. Then she took Eric's hand, and together they dove--- two worlds meeting, just as the sky meets the sea.”

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Book:A Twisted Tale Anthology
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“Back in Atlantica, Ariel couldn't contain the whirlwind of emotions that coursed through her. She had saved a human! The most beautiful and kind and wonderful human she had ever seen. And she'd spoken to him. "Eric," she whispered, her stomach fluttering like butterfly fish. "When am I going to see you again?" She plucked a flower from one of the reef beds and rolled onto her back as she giggled to herself.”

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Book:A Twisted Tale Anthology
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“Let's just say you've got an honest way about you- and a sharper eye than I initially thought." She brushed her fingers over the nearest table. "Not a speck of dust." "Oh." Cinderella felt little pride from the compliment. "It is my job," was all she said. "I'm glad you understand that, girl. Though no one told you to reorganize my books." There was a note of accusation in the duchess's voice, and Cinderella didn't know how to respond. "I apologize, ma'am. I-" "Most of my attendants arrange them like flowers, by color and size, but you did it by substance and author. You couldn't have done that without reading them." She swallowed. "I didn't have time to read any, ma'am... but I couldn't resist skimming a few.”

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Book:So This is Love
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“She started to head out, but she passed her room. It was the same as she'd left it: a pile of cushions by her bed for Little Brother to sleep on, a stack of poetry and famous literature on her desk that she was supposed to study to become a "model bride," and the lavender shawl and silk robes she'd worn the day before she left home. The jade comb Mulan had left in exchange for the conscription notice caught her eye; it now rested in front of her mirror. Mulan's gaze lingered on the comb, on its green teeth and the pearl-colored flower nestled on its shoulder. She wanted to hold it, to put it in her hair and show her family- to show everyone- she was worthy. After all, her surname, Fa, meant flower. She needed to show them that she had bloomed to be worthy of her family name. But no one was here, and she didn't want to face her reflection. Who knew what it would show, especially in Diyu? She isn't a boy, her mother had told her father once. She shouldn't be riding horses and letting her hair loose. The neighbors will talk. She won't find a good husband- Let her, Fa Zhou had consoled his wife. When she leaves this household as a bride, she'll no longer be able to do these things. Mulan hadn't understood what he meant then. She hadn't understood the significance of what it meant for her to be the only girl in the village who skipped learning ribbon dances to ride Khan through the village rice fields, who chased after chickens and helped herd the cows instead of learning the zither or practicing her painting, who was allowed to have opinions- at all. She'd taken the freedom of her childhood for granted. When she turned fourteen, everything changed. I know this will be a hard change to make, Fa Li had told her, but it's for your own good. Men want a girl who is quiet and demure, polite and poised- not someone who speaks out of turn and runs wild about the garden. A girl who can't make a good match won't bring honor to the family. And worse yet, she'll have nothing: not respect, or money of her own, or a home. She'd touched Mulan's cheek with a resigned sigh. I don't want that fate for you, Mulan. Every morning for a year, her mother tied a rod of bamboo to Mulan's spine to remind her to stand straight, stuffed her mouth with persimmon seeds to remind her to speak softly, and helped Mulan practice wearing heeled shoes by tying ribbons to her feet and guiding her along the garden. Oh, how she'd wanted to please her mother, and especially her father. She hadn't wanted to let them down. But maybe she hadn't tried enough. For despite Fa Li's careful preparation, she had failed the Matchmaker's exam. The look of hopefulness on her father's face that day- the thought that she'd disappointed him still haunted her. Then fate had taken its turn, and Mulan had thrown everything away to become a soldier. To learn how to punch and kick and hold a sword and shield, to shoot arrows and run and yell. To save her country, and bring honor home to her family. How much she had wanted them to be proud of her.”

HonorReflectionBedroomChildhood MemoriesWho Am ITomboyMulan
Book:Reflection
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“Her feet touched upon ground, and a cloud of silvery dust blossomed up to her waist. Her clothes shimmered, and the checkered cotton dress she was wearing became an elegant white gown with a silver cord around the waist. "Your apprentice gown," explained Agata. She gestured ahead. "Welcome to the Wishing Star." Before her was a village not unlike Pariva, only every cottage was a different color: rose, violet, mahogany, marigold. Burgundy, magenta, and pearl. Even the flowers in the gardens matched the colors of the houses, and trees made of gold and copper and silver lined the shimmering streets. In the center was a house made of crystal, its windows stained with hearts of every color in the town. As soon as her gaze fell upon the house, its door opened, and over a dozen fairies filed outside, each wearing a warm smile.”

WelcomeApprenticeFairy RealmChiaraWishing Star
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“And each fairy is represented by a color?" Chiara asked. "My favorite color was always violet," Agata said, "and Mirabella's gold. They started off as nicknames, but they seem to have stuck." Peri, the Orange Fairy, stepped forward and offered her a friendly grin. "Blue is available, in case you were wondering. Agata told us it's your favorite. We sense the color's been waiting for you.”

Favorite ColorChiaraBlue Fairy
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“Chiara gasped as her mentor passed her the wand, and a small star appeared at its tip. It should have warmed Chiara's heart to see it, but she could barely muster a smile. "The reception of a fairy's wand is often a bittersweet occasion. Let that be a reminder for you that magic can bring great joy as well as sorrow, hope as well as fear. May you use yours to shine light upon darkness." "I will," Chiara vowed. As soon as the words left her lips, the star on her wand came aglow and a pair of iridescent wings bloomed from her back. "What name will you take, Chiara Belmagio?" The answer was one she had toyed with ever since she'd considered the fairies' invitation. "The Blue Fairy." Blue was the color that brought her joy. The color of the walls of the music room where she and Ilaria had spent countless hours laughing and chasing each other and making music; the color of her father's eyes, like hers; the color of the sea where she and Niccolo took their little boat out when the weather was fair. Her dress shimmered with stardust. The pale color deepened into a warm and rich blue, and the fabric softened into gossamer silk. The threads stitched themselves into a gown worthy of a good fairy, turning her long sleeves into iridescent swaths of starlight. A beautiful yet understated uniform. Perfect for the new fairy. Only the ribbon she wore in her hair was the same as before. A reminder of Chiara Belmagio, daughter of Pariva.”

TransformationBittersweetColor BlueChiaraBlue FairyWand
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“The dove she and her sister had enchanted to life suddenly soared back into the room and perched on her shoulder. Chiara marveled at it, both joy and sadness heavy in her chest. The dove stroked her hand with a comforting wing, and Chiara touched it gently. She knew she ought to turn it back into a wooden figurine as before---those were the rules, after all. But she couldn't, not without Ily's help. And truthfully, she wasn't sure if she wanted to.”

DoveChiaraBlue Fairy
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“As Jiminy hopped away, the Blue Fairy spun her wand for one last spell before she tucked it away for a year. In her mind, she conjured the smell of cinnamon and pistachios, of chocolate and buttery sugar. A modest plate appeared on her palm, and she inhaled. "Just like home," she whispered to herself. With a wave of her arm, she let go of her wand and made for the humble two-storied house with a yellow door. A lemon or two still hung from the trees brushing against the back window, and a bittersweet pang overcame Chiara's heart. It squeezed inside her, filled with excitement and nervousness and wonder. When she found her courage, she knocked. At first, she didn't think anyone heard. Then from inside, Niccolo's wife shouted: "It's the girls! They must be back early!" Footsteps approached, and Chiara held her breath. Niccolo himself answered the door, and let out a gasp. The expression on her brother's face was one she would treasure all her life. Joy and surprise flooded his eyes as years of forgotten memories came back to him. When he finally cried her name, his voice choked with emotion. "Chiara?" "I know I'm a few years late," she said, finally letting go of her breath. She smiled at her brother. "But is there room for one more at dinner tonight? I've brought cookies.”

BrotherCookiesFamily ReunionChiaraBlue Fairy
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“The tower of cookies was high enough to touch the lanterns Mrs. Belmagio and Mrs. Vaci brought in a five-tiered chocolate cake, meticulously decorated with plump crimson cherries and hazelnut frosting. Each layer was shaped like a scalloped bowl, meant to resemble the fountain in Pariva's central square, and topped with a generous sprinkling of bluebell petals. But what made Chiara tear up were the cards pressed carefully into the cake, each on a sliced piece of cork---messages from every friend, neighbor, child, and elder she had ever known. We'll miss you. May you spread your light and make all of Esperia bright.”

CakeCelebrationDessertsWell WishesChiara
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“Mulan cast ShiShi an apologetic look, suddenly remembering how she'd cut her own hair before stealing her father's armor. Such a simple action, yet it'd changed everything. She'd severed ties with her old identity and gone from Mulan to Ping, from bride to soldier, from obedient daughter to woman who led her own life. But what if she'd cut too many ties? What if when she went home, her parents no longer recognized her? After all, she wasn't the same Mulan anymore. Sometimes, she didn't even know who she was. She'd thought going to war would show her, but things were never as easy as that.”

Who I AmTiesMulanCutting Hair
Book:Reflection
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