Post by mateo izar ˚❀༉ d11 - ɢʀɪғғɪɴ on Jan 25, 2023 4:48:34 GMT -5
〞[...] mahal kita.
It has taken all of her years to learn that not all which glitters is gold.
That sometimes, gold can be the pandesals she baked, fresh out of the oven, and the chicken silog, hissing delightfully on a hot plate. And love, oh that ancient and huddling love, is inlaid in the way she never misses a showing of Benito’s new picture, Cedric’s vocabulary contests, Donata’s dress fittings, or her favorite, Gigi’s weekly piano recitals.
Vivienne used to be a woman charmed by earthly delights, the carats of a diamond or the number of pearls in a necklace, but these days, it is her family that boosts like an old, lovely heirloom. She is proud of them. She knows her children aren’t like her trophies on a mantle, yet she can’t help but be proud of the way they’ve turned out: diamonds of their society, shining with their own light.
They are moons in no need of a sun, they glow from within.
She was a part of that. Her and her delicate yet poised love, like a piano instructor telling them where to place their fingers, like a pageant trainer showing them how to pose for a camera. Her and her grace, an endless interlude of it.
Does she get tempted from time and time again by glamour? Why yes, of course. When she was young, Vivienne often pictured herself on the brightest and loveliest stages in the Capitol, regal like a diamond cut for rings, but as a single mother taking care of eight children, she would be remiss if she doesn't do her duty.
She would be remiss if she doesn't give each of them all her love.