I paid the price and own the scars
why did we climb to fall so far ?
Some part of her watches him as an artist does a painting, and although this one lives and breathes and moves as her art had never done, it is still just as captivating as colors on canvas so that her heart would speed up were she not in such a state as she is. Something akin to love and yearning would have been in those amber eyes were she not increasing her frown at his nonchalant tone, dismissive of something that was so obviously wrong with the bare minimum functioning of his very body.
your body is your temple, it was what she'd always been taught growing up. They were vessels to get you from one place to another, but so much more in that. Your body was a friend, a lover, the first thing to greet you in your creation and the last corporeal form you'd ever know. It was to be taken care of as you would your beloved if not more devotedly; like a song sung over and over, you should never have tired of your own care and well being.
Yet here the man stood without realizing what an affront it was for him to so carelessly let his lifeblood drip onto the ground, splashing abstract marks over green and tan and brown until it all seemed the same muddied mix of sludge. "A pleasure," Moira states purely out of politeness.
Something about Thorvald was not calming, but perhaps tempered any further emotions she would have if he were in a state of hysterics. Be that as it may, the mildness with which he addressed her and his condition was concerning. With her mouth drawing tight about the edges that only one who knew her could see for the displeasure it is, Moira shakes her head and clucks her tongue lightly. "Lucky then, Mister Thorvald, that my herbs are away today. Are these...bleeds common?" It is not her place to pry, but she is a healer or whatever it was they call them in these lands. The wellbeing of all is her concern, even if her family would have confounded her to their own estates to serve until she was gray and shaking.
She could have gotten lost in those blue eyes - just a few shades paler and her family would be staring back. They, too, were living portraits built of fire and ice and otherliness that she was discovering had not quite reached the general populace. A certain disdain hung around the majority of the Tonnerre estate, reminiscent of those who are a part of your world, but don't necessarily include themselves such. Entirely a monster of their own creation, made of mechanisms and ideals outlandish and strange, yet functioning in the same manner as a well oiled machine.
Few were decent among the Tonnerres. Perhaps Moira was an exception, but that was yet to be seen. She shews her lip as she waits for an answer, something to ease the gnawing curiosity and desire to save the world, if you will.
we made our love out of stacks of cards
@Thorvald <3
