had my head in the clouds
never knowing what lies below
never knowing what lies below
T
he lake is for more than reflections. It is a pool of memories that will drown whoever dares to look too close, to try and glean knowledge from the past... Oh, but today it is merely a pool of water, a mirror to show her all the lies he thought that she was. Here... There is an air of serenity, tranquility holding fast to the pristine surface to hide the turmoil below. In her heart, a matching storm brews, just as deadly and just as troubling as that mirrored lake. Below, rocks crunch together underfoot, adding to the soft cooing of chickadees in the brush, the rustling of rabbits as they flee for safer grounds. (Or was this the safest spot they could find, hoping that it would treat them well enough until whatever that is to come comes...and then goes just as quickly? Or perhaps it is the tiger prowling close behind, never far from the winged woman save for on that night.) It troubles her, not knowing. Up until now, there is so much Moira has known - how to heal and how to hurt, how to fix what is broken and mend nearly anything. Oh, but how does a girl too afraid of all that she is, a phoenix still unsure of burning, fix a court, a nation, a single crime?
Were it anyone but him, perhaps it would be easier.
On these strange shores Moira first met Raum. The silver man had not seemed so awful then, with his smoky voice that matches the darkness, the softness, the silk in her own. He was the first to ever speak to her within this court - within this world even. The first that made her think past the numbness, the lost girl that she was floundering for a home outside of the only house she'd ever known. Was his statement alluding to all that he would become, or was the Ghost just as unaware of all the devastation he would cause as she at the time?
So many unanswered questions.
Golden eyes are late to take note of the woman at the shore. Were she a snake, the Emissary would surely be dead. Turpentine emotions dissipate, spread thin over the surface of the rippling lake, as she sees the familiar face. Not as familiar as it should be, but enough that the winged woman is unafraid as she approaches. Red on grey. Warm on cool. A volcano ready to erupt, simmering, smoking, but cooled by the blue of those eyes that she seeks. Brought back to earth by the tones of sand and smoke and rich soil that ground her in the moment. Morrighan reminds her of Isra, of Asterion, of Eik. Reminds her of them in all but personality. Words from the meeting echoing back, making her grin despite the trouble that rests on her brow. "You offered to fight for us," Moira starts. Her voice is a slow song, a gentle caress as smooth as the lake's surface near them. She is the Acting Sovereign, encouraging and gentle and flaming all at once.
But she cannot compare to the fiery soul of the mare before her. The flame-heart that beats within Morrighan's breast is surely so much more prone to these violent delights than the healer who wants only the best for their court. She almost regrets asking them to rise up, imploring that they fight to find their queen, to bring Isra home where she belongs. Almost, but not quite, for the Tonnerre child is as a smile, given with heavy consideration and all of her heart, there is nothing she would not do for Isra, for the other half of her heart. A slight growl behind makes Moira chuckle, Neerja's displeasure at that thought as clear as the day. "I don't think we've officially met, I am Moira Tonnerre, he-" eyes go wide for a moment before she grins, embarrassment staining crimson face even darker a shade. "Emissary of Denocte, but I will always be a healer to any who need. Are you from these lands? What else is she to ask if not for a name? How better, she wonders, to learn of another but from where they come. After all, if you dig deep enough into her own family, you'll learn just why she shies at the thought of love, flinches when flames come to near her body, why she cannot yet lift her wings with such confidence and bravado as before on a regular basis... Why she feels as useless as a broken branch, barely dangling from the limb to which it desperately clings.
@Morrighan | "speaks" | notes: I apologize for how late this reply is ! ;o; also note Neerja (mo's bonded) is also present just chilling behind her with brows raised
