M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
The world is alight with thunder high in the skies and lightning veins wind through gray skies like heralds from the heavens above. She can feel the sting in the air, taste the salt on the breeze, feel the electricity crackle down her spine, through her feathers that now stretch wide to balance her as never before, and her soul calls back to the sea and the unknown that it brings. Narrow are her amber eyes that turn to the beaches, watching from the market as a wave larger than the walls of even the Denocte castle overtakes the sands. Down there, she knows, there will be few survivors. Terrors lurk in the waters, and screaming in the skies above stormbirds lurk, waiting for their chance to feast on the carnage.
She does not know her family was from the sea long ago, that like calls to like because that was how it had been in the beginning, that the part that is not in the arms of the sky does not cry for the earth, but rather the water that now seeps upon the stones beneath her feet. The phoenix feels the tremors of fear snake down her spine. Only a fool would look at this disaster and be thrilled, or worse, revel in the beauty of all its chaotic glory. Quick as an adder she turns, unkempt hair pulled to and fro by winds, whipped into a fury that lashes her sides, scrapes over high cheeks, falls wetly into worried eyes. There are screams, there are fires that will not last the hour, there are people in a panic and others who look calmer than the eye of the storm. Moira knows there will be a need for healing after, she knows the infirmary is stable and firm. Walls meant to withstand ogres pounding them, reinforced throughout the ages for moments such as these. "Follow me," she calls, voice high over the storm roiling about, looking to those who seem hopeless, lost, confused beyond all measure. Easily she pulls a woman to her side, wrapping a wing over their shoulders to cover them from the worst of the rain and objects flying about. "You'll be safe within the walls of the castle," and with that Moira gathers those who will come, watches as Raymond rushes in the distance toward the harbingers of rain to stand tall against them, sees Araxes in passing to help bring others in to heal. What more could she do?
Within the walls of the castle voices ring loud and clear, one so soft and sweet it could bring a tear to her eye. Ah, but she knows this voice, this storyteller who heals with nothing less than words, who holds them all so close to her heart and brings them into a new world that it would be easier to stay in those dreamlands than in the waking world. It is here that the Tonnerre child brings her charges, nodding to Isra as she does so with a grateful smile. This court is lucky to have so many willing to help, able to help, and she knows what she must do next. Be it from a clifftop or on the cobbled streets, she will defend this court.
With a final glance at those who curl now in a tight circle about Isra, Moira enters out into the tempest once more. Bones ache for the taste of the sea that thrashes about far below, feet splash through the salty brine invading the market as she makes her way to the fringes of delicate society and a warfront. Quicker and quicker she moves, heart thundering just as the skies, eyes watering from the sheer force of the gales. Where Raymond stands she looks to, surging forward in her own fiery red halo until she is a mere blur of red among blue and green and gray, a bright streak within Denocte to stave off the darkness that comes for them all.
She is Moira Tonnerre, born of the sea and sky. And with every last breath she may give, she will devour the squall and the entirety of its foul beasts.
Breathless but brave, she comes to Raymond's side. Amber eyes are gentle as she looks to him and dips her head in greeting. "I stand by you for all of Denocte this day." Come what may, she turns to face the oncoming flock and tear down the annals of her family's history until all that is left will be ash and dust.
@Isra @Raymond
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
The world is alight with thunder high in the skies and lightning veins wind through gray skies like heralds from the heavens above. She can feel the sting in the air, taste the salt on the breeze, feel the electricity crackle down her spine, through her feathers that now stretch wide to balance her as never before, and her soul calls back to the sea and the unknown that it brings. Narrow are her amber eyes that turn to the beaches, watching from the market as a wave larger than the walls of even the Denocte castle overtakes the sands. Down there, she knows, there will be few survivors. Terrors lurk in the waters, and screaming in the skies above stormbirds lurk, waiting for their chance to feast on the carnage.
She does not know her family was from the sea long ago, that like calls to like because that was how it had been in the beginning, that the part that is not in the arms of the sky does not cry for the earth, but rather the water that now seeps upon the stones beneath her feet. The phoenix feels the tremors of fear snake down her spine. Only a fool would look at this disaster and be thrilled, or worse, revel in the beauty of all its chaotic glory. Quick as an adder she turns, unkempt hair pulled to and fro by winds, whipped into a fury that lashes her sides, scrapes over high cheeks, falls wetly into worried eyes. There are screams, there are fires that will not last the hour, there are people in a panic and others who look calmer than the eye of the storm. Moira knows there will be a need for healing after, she knows the infirmary is stable and firm. Walls meant to withstand ogres pounding them, reinforced throughout the ages for moments such as these. "Follow me," she calls, voice high over the storm roiling about, looking to those who seem hopeless, lost, confused beyond all measure. Easily she pulls a woman to her side, wrapping a wing over their shoulders to cover them from the worst of the rain and objects flying about. "You'll be safe within the walls of the castle," and with that Moira gathers those who will come, watches as Raymond rushes in the distance toward the harbingers of rain to stand tall against them, sees Araxes in passing to help bring others in to heal. What more could she do?
Within the walls of the castle voices ring loud and clear, one so soft and sweet it could bring a tear to her eye. Ah, but she knows this voice, this storyteller who heals with nothing less than words, who holds them all so close to her heart and brings them into a new world that it would be easier to stay in those dreamlands than in the waking world. It is here that the Tonnerre child brings her charges, nodding to Isra as she does so with a grateful smile. This court is lucky to have so many willing to help, able to help, and she knows what she must do next. Be it from a clifftop or on the cobbled streets, she will defend this court.
With a final glance at those who curl now in a tight circle about Isra, Moira enters out into the tempest once more. Bones ache for the taste of the sea that thrashes about far below, feet splash through the salty brine invading the market as she makes her way to the fringes of delicate society and a warfront. Quicker and quicker she moves, heart thundering just as the skies, eyes watering from the sheer force of the gales. Where Raymond stands she looks to, surging forward in her own fiery red halo until she is a mere blur of red among blue and green and gray, a bright streak within Denocte to stave off the darkness that comes for them all.
She is Moira Tonnerre, born of the sea and sky. And with every last breath she may give, she will devour the squall and the entirety of its foul beasts.
Breathless but brave, she comes to Raymond's side. Amber eyes are gentle as she looks to him and dips her head in greeting. "I stand by you for all of Denocte this day." Come what may, she turns to face the oncoming flock and tear down the annals of her family's history until all that is left will be ash and dust.
@Isra @Raymond
