Moira - - i've got a young heart & it's wild & free
Dreams are full of wishes and nightmares are full of truths; eyes that do not see watch as stars fall and birds plummet, see burnt wings and flesh ripped from bone. Honeyed gaze drifts lazily over plains of fire under a full moon, watch as the feathers float on the wind as though they are not headed for disaster. This is a world where she knows it is not real, is not happening about her, but she does not mind the reprieve. Such a long trip was required to reach the Plains. So Moira settles deeper into the blissful throes of slumber, letting events unfold and reality warp about her once more. It is when butterflies peck at her back that she begins to move, skin withdrawing to that area, bunching up where the stick prods like lightning upon her spine. Brows furrow, an unintelligible mumbling given new life, and slowly she rises as though from the grave. At first it is slow, a single eye cracking open to glare at the twins who stare and stare and stare as though she is that girl again, the abomination in her house who had wings and dared wear them in polite company. They speak words that the phoenix cannot quite understand, and slowly her other eye opens to show the discontentment beneath her skin. Why was sleep so much to ask for in this god-forsaken pool of light? Didn't they know when to let someone just be? Irritation curves into every crevice of her cheeks, her lips, her shoulders that rise and fall more quickly with the quirking of her brow as Erd's words hit her like a freight train. Moira Tonnerre growls, slow to catch up, snapping at the stick as it is pulled back for a final time and teeth bared in a savage snarl. Who the hell do they think they are? With a heave she lifts herself, standing taller than the two by at least half a foot. Down her nose she looks, and scolds with that heavy gaze. "And you are?" she asks, her soft, husky voice like a midnight caress, like the smoke at one in the morning when you can't sleep and stress and cigarettes are you last (and only) companions, like a storm you can only see but can't yet hear approaching to take you away. Oh, from the downward curve of carmine lips the darkening mood begins to show. A glance at the water has her blinking, reeling away at last, curving her wing and nodding her cheek towards the hilltop before she turns to walk up, up, up and away from the temptation of falling into that glowing pool once more, letting it wash over her and drown her and consume her until Moira Tonnerre is so full of light and liquid that she could be floating in the sky instead of in a pool of death and decay. "Follow along," is all she says once halfway up, looking over to glare at the boys and demand that they come. Perhaps you should not awaken a sleeping phoenix with toys that are not as sharp as her wit and wrath and temper when aroused. Perhaps you should think before raising the dead from their unholy slumber and demanding they respond if they are to rejoin the living. But they did not think, and now a beast is in their midst, guiding them onward and upward where answers will be gleaned, where knowledge will be gained, and perhaps those claws will be sheathed beneath her skin once more, sinking into slumber and cool pools where even the fire will not reach it. |
she's not very happy right now >.>
