M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
All holds its breath for a mere moment before the spell is broken. Shattered like stained glass windows at Christmas when religion and hope is lost, falling to the floor about them and dissipating as though it never was there. Lyra is a kind woman, the type to offer you a warm place to rest and biscuits by the fire. A ready pot of tea always at hand. As soft as her demeanor is, Moira cannot help but notice the worry.
Lines are around Lyra's silver eyes, lines that show stress and worry over problems that the woman should not know. Sympathy almost washes through the phoenix girl, but it does not. Lyra, for all that Moira has heard from her shadows, for all she's adored from afar, is still a stranger before her. Beautiful and as distant as the stars in the sky. "Oh, no. I just thought I would meet Denocte's Champion of Community at last. Going around to see what there is to see," with a pale shrug, she looks to the ground. Flashing between here and when her mind was more made up, Moira almost regrets her decision to come.
I should not be here, she thinks mournfully. "The pleasure is mine, miss Lyra." Calm as a winter day, she speaks softly lest others should be listening. With the gates closed, Moira has noticed quite unhappily, there is nothing better to do than meddle in another's affairs.
@Lyra this is smol. i apologize ;-;
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
All holds its breath for a mere moment before the spell is broken. Shattered like stained glass windows at Christmas when religion and hope is lost, falling to the floor about them and dissipating as though it never was there. Lyra is a kind woman, the type to offer you a warm place to rest and biscuits by the fire. A ready pot of tea always at hand. As soft as her demeanor is, Moira cannot help but notice the worry.
Lines are around Lyra's silver eyes, lines that show stress and worry over problems that the woman should not know. Sympathy almost washes through the phoenix girl, but it does not. Lyra, for all that Moira has heard from her shadows, for all she's adored from afar, is still a stranger before her. Beautiful and as distant as the stars in the sky. "Oh, no. I just thought I would meet Denocte's Champion of Community at last. Going around to see what there is to see," with a pale shrug, she looks to the ground. Flashing between here and when her mind was more made up, Moira almost regrets her decision to come.
I should not be here, she thinks mournfully. "The pleasure is mine, miss Lyra." Calm as a winter day, she speaks softly lest others should be listening. With the gates closed, Moira has noticed quite unhappily, there is nothing better to do than meddle in another's affairs.
@Lyra this is smol. i apologize ;-;
