It was true that night had no interest in her children after having bared them. But there in an exception to everything, and her exception was her love and adoration for her eldest daughter. You.

“My sweet chaos flower.” The personification of night would coo to her smaller child, hand outreached to take you into her palm. “What brings you here, hm? Missing me, perhaps?”

There was a special bond between a mother and her eldest daughter, she thinks as she holds you in her hands. Love in her eyes as she does so, her thumb rubbing at your soft cheek.