M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
So many emotions hold him captive, and she is stuck, watching as surprise first takes hold of his braod face that is much too expressive for anyone in her family to look upon approvingly, and then sorrow follows on swift wings when he states something she doesn't quite understand. Moira is many things, an philosopher, a seeker, and healer, but she will tell you if you ask that history has always been one of her weaker studies. While she could recite every name in her family tree back centuries and where they hail from, who they married, and which begot which, she cannot tell you when the last war was unless it is in her lifetime; she cannot tell you to rulers outside of her family's estate and those that oversaw even that bit of land that seems to stretch on for miles. So it is almost a shock (not that she'll show it) when he mentions a king has died. Would others respond so nonchalantly as she, with a cool expression, a raised brow, and nothing more than quiet inquiries and challenges within her amber eyes?
Perhaps she needs sleep.
Or perhaps it is something different, she muses as a giggle escapes - seeing sleep? The thought is so ridiculous, so absurd, she cannot help but to throw back her head and let out a gut-clenching laugh that makes her eyes squeeze shut and the brilliance of her heritage come into play. Such a refined woman, the phoenix makes herself out to be, even when sleep calls so desperately, sings in her blood with every beat of her heart, every thrust of her head and tap of her foot.
The sun will rise on them staring at one another, amusement riddling her carmine face and confusion etched into creases along Eik's, but she has yet to speak when he finishes. "Hmm," she offers at last, laughter twinkling nearby (or is it hysteria for so many things she does not know?).
Following a pregnant pause in which she assesses Eik with the first ray's of dawn tickling his sides, white glinting back and reflecting golds and pinks, a painting she'd rather enjoy hung on her hall, Moira offers words more than a mere humming and tutting. "Lucky then day has come to feast on flesh. Should I trust a stranger, or will you gobble me if I tell you what halls I'm housed in?" Like everything the woman does, her words are soft, smoky, edged in midnight silk that hides a blade. Perhaps they are both more gentle and cautious because of her weariness, but perhaps it is this stranger that makes her hair stand on end and her focus hone in on every fine twitch of his muscles.
"I was hoping to go home," Mo offers, looking at the mountain behind him, and then to the distance as though she could see all the way to the halls of Denocte. Of course, it would help more if her face is even remotely pointed in the correct direction - it is not, in fact. "How about we exchange a question for a question until the sun rises and we can find you...sleep?" Once more she looks like she'll split at the seems in a fit of giggles, crinkling about her eyes and a merriment in those husky words that promises smiles in the future despite her anonymity and mysteries she leaves.
@Eik oh goodness, thank you ! Eik is such a delight ;u;
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
So many emotions hold him captive, and she is stuck, watching as surprise first takes hold of his braod face that is much too expressive for anyone in her family to look upon approvingly, and then sorrow follows on swift wings when he states something she doesn't quite understand. Moira is many things, an philosopher, a seeker, and healer, but she will tell you if you ask that history has always been one of her weaker studies. While she could recite every name in her family tree back centuries and where they hail from, who they married, and which begot which, she cannot tell you when the last war was unless it is in her lifetime; she cannot tell you to rulers outside of her family's estate and those that oversaw even that bit of land that seems to stretch on for miles. So it is almost a shock (not that she'll show it) when he mentions a king has died. Would others respond so nonchalantly as she, with a cool expression, a raised brow, and nothing more than quiet inquiries and challenges within her amber eyes?
Perhaps she needs sleep.
Or perhaps it is something different, she muses as a giggle escapes - seeing sleep? The thought is so ridiculous, so absurd, she cannot help but to throw back her head and let out a gut-clenching laugh that makes her eyes squeeze shut and the brilliance of her heritage come into play. Such a refined woman, the phoenix makes herself out to be, even when sleep calls so desperately, sings in her blood with every beat of her heart, every thrust of her head and tap of her foot.
The sun will rise on them staring at one another, amusement riddling her carmine face and confusion etched into creases along Eik's, but she has yet to speak when he finishes. "Hmm," she offers at last, laughter twinkling nearby (or is it hysteria for so many things she does not know?).
Following a pregnant pause in which she assesses Eik with the first ray's of dawn tickling his sides, white glinting back and reflecting golds and pinks, a painting she'd rather enjoy hung on her hall, Moira offers words more than a mere humming and tutting. "Lucky then day has come to feast on flesh. Should I trust a stranger, or will you gobble me if I tell you what halls I'm housed in?" Like everything the woman does, her words are soft, smoky, edged in midnight silk that hides a blade. Perhaps they are both more gentle and cautious because of her weariness, but perhaps it is this stranger that makes her hair stand on end and her focus hone in on every fine twitch of his muscles.
"I was hoping to go home," Mo offers, looking at the mountain behind him, and then to the distance as though she could see all the way to the halls of Denocte. Of course, it would help more if her face is even remotely pointed in the correct direction - it is not, in fact. "How about we exchange a question for a question until the sun rises and we can find you...sleep?" Once more she looks like she'll split at the seems in a fit of giggles, crinkling about her eyes and a merriment in those husky words that promises smiles in the future despite her anonymity and mysteries she leaves.
@
