Like Mother, Like Daughter
Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Pandora. She had mottled blond hair and silvery eyes, and thin skin the colour of skim milk, behind which you could see the fine webbing of her veins. Pandora looked like this her entire life, and everyone said that it was because she was her parents child. They said that she took right after them. They said it when she was ten, when she thirteen, when she was fifteen, when she was a young woman twenty years of age, beautiful and talented and fascinated by so many things.
It was then, twenty years of age, that she met Xinophilius, and first fell in love.
He was a lot more unkempt than the sort of man she would have expected to fall in love with. But then again, she figured it didn't really matter. She knew spells to clean up after him, and she could deal with a husband who occasionally forgot to brush his hair just fine. He was fun to be around, and brilliant in his own way, and a peculiar sort of charming, and he loved her back. She supposed that that was really all that mattered.
At twenty one years of age, they married. As twenty two, they had their first child. Pandora's gossamar skin glowed like every mothers skin does, and Xenophilius claimed that when the sun hit her right, he could see a child who looked just like her, tucked away inside her belly. When Pandora heard that, her skin glowed twice as much. She glowed like the moon, and they named the baby Luna.
Luna grew up like any child of two equally strange and genius parents is wont to. With classic novels instead of easy readers as bedtime stories, messy mornings as her mother juggled her latest spellcrafting discovery with making eggs and toast, half understood jokes from her dad that were funny anyways, and magic everywhere. She did indeed look just like her mother, with ratty blond curls and silvery eyes, but Pandora liked to think that there was a little of her father in there too. Maybe in the space betwixt her eyes, or the slightly more human tone to her skin. In the end, though, it didn't really matter. Pandora would love their daughter, even if she looked like a nargle.
Days passed in glorious hazes of happiness and love. Xeno came to be the editor of a newspaper. Pandora's discoveries earned her recognition in the most studius of circles. Luna grew like a weed, all secret smiles and small stretching limbs. She was becoming her parent's child in so many ways, everyone who met her said. They said it when she was five, when she was seven, when she was eight and almost nine. They said it when she was nine, and had just witnessed one of those parents untimely demise.
She's a young woman twenty years of age now, beautiful and talented and fascinated by so many things. They still say it. She prays that they'll continue.