The sphere of the Moon is a threshold, the place where travelers from the Earth pass into the more rarified aether of the heavens. Despite its proximity to the Tellurian sphere, the Moon is untainted by Man's fall. It's inhabitants are the faerie of old who have built their strange mansions and gardens in the luminous, silvery wastes, on the banks of viscous seas like liquid obsidian.
The fair folk rule over an insectile people they either found there or fashioned with their arts after their arrival. These are the Selenites. They do not speak to humans so far as is known, but they do have a language of mental emanations they use to speak with their masters.
The Moon faerie trade with the Earth. They sell oneiric wine, rumored to be made from the scintillant, diaphonous gray petals of the night-flowers they cultivate amid the geometric, coral-like, alabaster growths of their gardens. It was also the faerie who provided the King of Albion with his heir, Gloriana, gestated in a great egg in an underground grotto. The egg—round, quivering, and iridescent as a soap bubble and filled with a milky fluid stirred by opalescent swirls and eddies—was brought down to Earth and delivered to the King by a company of fae, their gangling limbs and moths' wings only slightly less luminous than moon itself.
23 minutes ago