M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
There are galaxies in the boy's eyes, planets born from his lips as words fall like rain into her world. Innocence is a cloak pulled tightly about his shoulders, draping into his every reaction as he trustingly allows her to fasten the mask about his thin face. Moira smiles at her work, at his choice, and quickly moves to put the rabbit mask upon Milo while Regis continues his speech. Quick as kissing a sore scratch, the two match one another well enough and she stands back, smiling on the colt that talks a mile a minute, that stumbles over Denocte as though it is a phenetic beast, that finds her a stunning mask both dark and light in a manner of minutes.
When silence rings true once more, a tolling in their ears, only then does she chuckle and nod. Carefully Moira bends, offering the mask to Regis so that he may tie it about her eyes and carefully thread it atop her hair. When the task begins, she speaks once more. "Regis, what a fitting name for such a lovely young gentleman. I'll tell you a secret if you lean in close." Mischief dances in those amber eyes that are molten honey under the sun, laughter a secret on the corner of her lips. Leaning close enough that her breath tickles his ear, her whiskers play along his temple, she whispers as though they're to plan a robbery. "Here in this land I am a healer, so I can tend to any cut or bruise or bellyache; with that I know where every drip of sugar is and every sweet pastry you might dream of. We'll only have a few, enough so that your belly won't ache but you'll wear a smile the entire night. How does that sound?"
How fondly she smiles as she pulls away, rising to stare down at him with her crown of light resting easily about that molten gaze. Truly, with it Moira almost could look like some queen or foreign goddess. But she does not think herself so lovely with two wilting wings tucked tightly to her stomach, with her curling hair carefully pulled and pinned into its braids and buns and slipping out until it's messy enough to seem natural and carefree, with her restless mind moving constantly through library books. No. The phoenix woman is far too concerned with other matters to consider herself lovely in any way.
"I cannot help but think you've a talent for finding something that matches the client, young Regis. How would you like to see this festival with me for a bit? If your mother and father allow, I'll show you to the sweets first and then we shall explore!" So sweetly she sings for him, almost like a bird crooning to their young, beckoning them into the world, into the spring, into the light. How fondly she smiles, for the youth and naivety of a child is something so precious and pure here she cannot help but wonder what her life may have been should she not have been a Tonnerre at all. Oh, but she is a Tonnerre and as such wears that badge with pride. Her family holds sway in her heart that none may ever wrangle from her grasp, not even in her dying moments. Every family has their dark past, and she cannot help but to love hers despite everything they do differently and the affection that's hidden behind closed doors.
@Regis please accept my humble trash pile of words
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
There are galaxies in the boy's eyes, planets born from his lips as words fall like rain into her world. Innocence is a cloak pulled tightly about his shoulders, draping into his every reaction as he trustingly allows her to fasten the mask about his thin face. Moira smiles at her work, at his choice, and quickly moves to put the rabbit mask upon Milo while Regis continues his speech. Quick as kissing a sore scratch, the two match one another well enough and she stands back, smiling on the colt that talks a mile a minute, that stumbles over Denocte as though it is a phenetic beast, that finds her a stunning mask both dark and light in a manner of minutes.
When silence rings true once more, a tolling in their ears, only then does she chuckle and nod. Carefully Moira bends, offering the mask to Regis so that he may tie it about her eyes and carefully thread it atop her hair. When the task begins, she speaks once more. "Regis, what a fitting name for such a lovely young gentleman. I'll tell you a secret if you lean in close." Mischief dances in those amber eyes that are molten honey under the sun, laughter a secret on the corner of her lips. Leaning close enough that her breath tickles his ear, her whiskers play along his temple, she whispers as though they're to plan a robbery. "Here in this land I am a healer, so I can tend to any cut or bruise or bellyache; with that I know where every drip of sugar is and every sweet pastry you might dream of. We'll only have a few, enough so that your belly won't ache but you'll wear a smile the entire night. How does that sound?"
How fondly she smiles as she pulls away, rising to stare down at him with her crown of light resting easily about that molten gaze. Truly, with it Moira almost could look like some queen or foreign goddess. But she does not think herself so lovely with two wilting wings tucked tightly to her stomach, with her curling hair carefully pulled and pinned into its braids and buns and slipping out until it's messy enough to seem natural and carefree, with her restless mind moving constantly through library books. No. The phoenix woman is far too concerned with other matters to consider herself lovely in any way.
"I cannot help but think you've a talent for finding something that matches the client, young Regis. How would you like to see this festival with me for a bit? If your mother and father allow, I'll show you to the sweets first and then we shall explore!" So sweetly she sings for him, almost like a bird crooning to their young, beckoning them into the world, into the spring, into the light. How fondly she smiles, for the youth and naivety of a child is something so precious and pure here she cannot help but wonder what her life may have been should she not have been a Tonnerre at all. Oh, but she is a Tonnerre and as such wears that badge with pride. Her family holds sway in her heart that none may ever wrangle from her grasp, not even in her dying moments. Every family has their dark past, and she cannot help but to love hers despite everything they do differently and the affection that's hidden behind closed doors.
@
