Entries tagged with magic

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Words to Zeliboba: You're a Gift

Summary:
"And where did YOU come from, Zeliboba?" the children from the Playground once asked.
And I wonder just as much where, was it another dimension, galaxy, or some other unexplored space, where your soul had been resting before it was summoned to our world.

Characters: Zeliboba the Dvorovoi and me ^_^

Side note: Like most of my fics about and for Zeliboba, this one is part my dialogue with him (parts written in italic), part my own thoughts about him (parts written in plain font).
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"And where did you come from, Zeliboba?" the children from the Playground once asked.

And I wonder just as much where, was it another dimension, galaxy, or some other unexplored space, where your soul had been resting before it was summoned to our world.

Maybe in there your body used to be slender, with a tail and a bright orange patch on your belly – the way I like – and got rebuilt almost from the very beginning in that world.

Maybe it wasn’t. You were still searching for your form, and that's why you weren't what you were yet. Just a stream of pure magic, without a name, or a face.

In here and in there you are just as delicate living creature, and that's what matters the most.

What gave birth to you – or the source of your self – was tender and loving. It allowed you to dive in the sky, play with the clouds, soak in the warmth of the sun, and then – cling to the ground, have golden arms and legs (that would keep you grounded – remember, as the artist that helped creating you said) and – because fur alone is not enough – to get a fluffy coat with a long trail and sleeves. To show you are able to love so much that you strive beyond yourself.

...you'd probably answer the kids from the neighborhood: “See for yourselves and decide who and what I look like, and then I'll tell you”. And then do as you wish: tell the whole story, and it will light a spark of discovery in their eyes; or, if you think that story is too delicate for the earth – keep it within yourself forever, to enjoy its life in a pleasant solitude and feel your heart respond to the source: I’m here, I’m here.
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Gemütlich

Author’s note: This 2017-2020 collection of small cozy (Gemütlich is a German word for just that) drabbles and arts about none other but Herr Drosselmeyer himself and his beloved Frau Martha. Martha is in no way my own OC. She’s from a steampunk adaptation of Hoffmann’s tale, created by a Russian theater (“S.A.D. Theater”, to be precise), but blends into the story so well that I no longer can imagine the old Godpapa unmarried. :) The actors who play Drosselmeyer and Martha do not mind about her being used in fanfics at all, and even liked my stuff - EVEN this cycle’s Russian version.

Moment 1. Uhrmacher Knurrmacher

Sep 10th, 2016 (illustration drawn in 2017)

It's their fourth Christmas together; for the fourth time, they are invited to the Stahlbaums, and here they are, Carl Stahlbaum himself greeting them in his mansion. Once more, a "Drossel, old boy!" and a hearty pat on the back – for her husband; and a "Martl, dear", followed by a small peck on her hand, – for her.
Once more, a Christmas feast – the one Mr. Stahlbaum had always been known around the town for – accompanied by a long talk, a few gentle "just one more bit, for me, Christian…" Martha manages to slip in as it lasts, and just as many slight nods and radiant smiles from Christian, meaning if this makes you happy.

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Moment 2. Almondous Pair

July 6th, 2017

It was hard to believe. Had Drosselmeyer been a regular human, it would seem absolutely foreign and strange to him. But with his current, magic-enhanced, semi-toy body, it seemed only natural that it had just fit in about a couple jugs of almond milk, and that Martha, admiring him with utmost delight and love, strokes soothing circles on his middle – which, by now, was nearly resting on his lap, almost like his cousin's, the velvet waistcoat stretched over it.

She'd been admiring him like that since the moment he knelt by the Lake of Almond Milk and tasted the first handful of it. She handed him a wafer lily flower that would serve as a cup and would be more comfortable to drink from. She didn't say a word after the flower melted in his mouth after all the milk, – only planted a kiss just under his sternum, at the very beginning of the soft, velvet-clad curve.

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Moment 3. Pearl / Alchemy

"...you are becoming more beautiful than the world,
and I become a dragon."
– Ivan Davydov, "The Other Tales" / "He tells Her"

May 28th, 2020

It was even better that both the Lake of Almond Milk and they themselves were mercifully hidden by the fog.

For some reason, Martha's own fingers felt cold – just enough for her to touch her husband's hands, long used to cold, and his face, but not under his shirt; how could she even think of touching the living warmth with hands that cold. Touching that fire magic, separated from the outside world by only a thin layer of flesh. How could she disturb it – not having warmed them with her breath first.

A colorful page of the book of Chinese legends floated up in Martha’s memory — she read it when she was ten years old, and this particular legend was especially memorable to her: a scarlet and gold dragon guarding a large pearl. Of the same pinkish color.

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Moment 4. Through the living mirror

October 29th, 2020

* No illustration for this one yet.
Martha's love for her husband goes deep. So deep that not even he can resist.
Drosselmeyer's heart sounds like this.

“So many times I've already seen you... from the outside,” Martha whispers. “Maybe if I in fact were made of marzipan and if you ate me, I’d so be living inside you."

Drosselmeyer's face feels unbearably hot – as if it wasn’t him who had just shrunk his wife to the size of a marzipan figurine. At her own request, temporarily, for sheer fun of them both – just so he would hold her close to his heart as he was resting by the window. He didn't even expect her to wish for something like... this. After all, a figurine made of almond paste is one thing, but Martha – half a doll herself, yet living, with a body of soft silk cloth, skin like light wax, and a love for him much bigger than she is – is a different one.

“Martchen, I…”
(how will you breathe – won’t you melt?! – the fiery magic – I don't even know what I’m like in there – aren't you afraid?! – what if my heart deafens you – what if-)

“...I don't know how you'll like it. I...” He stumbles. “...I'm not a mechanism. I don't know... how do I even work now. I don't want to... hurt you”.

"Don't be afraid,” Martha winks. “Just remember…”

She lightly, even more gently than being her usual size, touches him right under the arch of his ribs – watching as her beloved husband begins to glow in response. Magic; a warm wave through his body, and the wave of anxiety ebbing away. Back then, in the place where he was given this magic to drink after his transformation, Drosselmeyer realized – the liquid fire caused no harm to its host. It could turn food into life, to help life flow through him – but never dissolve a living creature.

“Here I go, Willow,” Martha finally calls him. “I am ready. Wait a moment – lift me up…”

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Words to Zeliboba: Like Earth Longing for Rain

Summary: ...you'd been missing me, Zeli.

I’d so let all this clear summer sky, along with its swallows, winds and clouds, beneath your pelt: the birds chirp as they fly, as if they really touch someone’s raw nerves, and their chirps, each one, are sweet impulses the touched nerves respond with. Swallows in your blood. Maybe they already are in you and I only now managed to guess it.

I'll show your entire self to you entirely, just give me time: who ever told you just how handsome you are.
No one. Had. Ever. Kissed you. In the muzzle. Like that.
Between your eyes. On your lips. Nuzzling against your blue whiskers.

Let’s pretend, says the dvorovoi, that the summer had been sleeping inside me all this time — I’d been sheltering and warming it, there was enough room for it and still is, check it yourself if you want to. Then he gently runs through my hair with his hand, like the summer wind: go ahead, lay your head on the fluffy warm fur.

Okay, I agree. There’s a small glk heard under his fur, like from a pebble thrown into a river; and here is the river itself, probably warmed by the sun; and here comes the wind: his breath, raising waves, rocking to sleep.

I remember the time you got teased with a cookbook, and I was just dying – from either sympathy, or tenderness and pride for you. My beloved spirit boy, just standing there, not even able to get his eye off the pages (in fact beautiful and rich), and only gulping hungrily. And I’m only loving you more, and even seem to see these thin sticky “strings" of drool in the corners of your mouth — and love even them, Lord, what's wrong with me, what are you doing to me, Zeliboba.

You’re creating me.
Creating from the very beginning, and re-creating all over.
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I Lava You

Summary:
A short drabble about Zeli and me - kind of messy and pretty tangled one, because ran purely on love to him and the amount of pure serotonin that an image of his belly suddenly being part sentient gave me. But if you get it, you get it.
Feel free to skip if you aren’t into belly noises. If you are? Welcome~

Characters: Zeliboba the Dvorovoi and me ^_^
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…with just his eyes, he says yes to me, and lifts up his blue fur coat.
…and I just can’t take my eyes off this golden, squishy, taut, warm and fluffy globe, free of it at last.

Why Zeliboba even had to be that shy and not breathe normally, with his belly, for that long; I love him so much, love this and love when he eats that much.

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Words to Zeliboba: Your Heart

Summary: Musings from a day I heart Zeliboba's heart beating for the very first time.

Characters: Zeliboba the Dvorovoi and me ^_^

Side note: Like most of my fics about and for Zeliboba, this one is part my dialogue with him, part my own thoughts about him.
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When your love is a creature of an unknown origin (back then I didn't know yet that you were a Dvorovoi), you will often wonder who exactly he is and how he's built.

The guesses come from anywhere — after one of the shopping trips (back when the first Sesame Muppets just started appearing in our toy shops), a casual glance at the new toothpaste was enough for me to see:

"Blue sparkling gel... Blue blood...
That's what Zeliboba must be filled with...

And the sparkles... The sparkles must be his magic.”

Perhaps it is true, after all, you are a magical being.
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The Godparent Creatures

1. Baptized with Tears

...If it hadn't been for a bright The Nutcracker and the Mouse King coloring book I happened to stumble upon, who knows how things would have turned out and whether of not I would get to love fairy tales as much as I love them now.
I was six years old at the time, and this very partly-coloring book was one of my lucky "trophies" of a trip to the local bookstore. The story itself, however, was slightly shortened, so instead of the usual "On the 24th of December Dr. Stahlbaum's children were not allowed, on any pretext whatever, at any time of all that day, to go into the small drawing-room..." it started with "Godpapa Drosselmeyer was anything but a nice-looking man" and a portrait of the aforementioned Godpapa.

(This is how the clockmaker wizard looked on the illustrations by M. Gorsky and S. Tsiporin.)

To be honest, Christian Elias Drosselmeyer in fact doesn't look handsome in the conventional sense. Little, lean, with a black patch covering his right eye, and a spun-glass wig instead of hair. And at the same time, very lively, smiling, and definitely mysterious. The Christmas Presents chapter subtly hints that he may not even be quite human – especially the episode with the clockwork castle.
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