Moira - - why do you cry, little lion-girl; why do you sigh, little soldier girl?
Wishes are stars in the heavens, petals on a flower, the breath of a girl as she blows her dandelion heart into the mystery of the world. They fall forever and may never be found, but some - oh some~ - are so resplendent and shining and worthy that even the gods and their ancestors cannot ignore a girl's wish dying on hopeful lips. Moira wonders how many wishes she made growing up, how many sparks flew from her heart until it was a roaring fury in the world left to devour and consume the woodwork that so tried to confine her. There once were so few. Now there are so many. The lion hearted girl looks to the phoenix, hope and the beginnings of trust playing with her hair, her smile, her quivering voice that floats like moon-songs upon the wind. Moira smiles then, smiles more radiantly than the sun seeking them out, more brilliant than any sunset will ever - could ever - be in the short time they exist. And she is a phoenix, she is something bright and mythical and ethereal before the brave soldier girl who asks at last for a story. What story can a phoenix tell when all her feathers are burning so? It begins as a humming in her heart, fingers walking down her spine, a thrumming in her veins. It is a hive of bees buzzing and buzzing and begging to go out, to hunt for the perfect tale to sooth and comfort and invite Sabine into all the wonderful adventures of life. But what story is so perfect to gain the trust and the heart of a child? Moira Tonnerre reaches out, tucks a stray lock of hair behind Sabine's ear and nods. "I knew a girl when I was young who wore a painting as a smile. She lived in a gilded cage painted silver and gold, blue and royal, she lived in a lie so stunning that she did not know she was trapped," a pointed look, a sad admission. "There were many who did not like her for some reason or another, and there was always something so wrong. So hurt. So different. The girl did not know that it was okay to be other, to be strange and something old and something new. She did not know that to be herself would be the brightest and best gift of all. So she learned to sing and she learned to dance. They taught her to pretend to be normal and wear her painted smile," and what a smile it was, fake and glorious and fooling all who scorned and spit at her. "Her mother had long since stopped combing her hair, her father did little to help comfort her. But there was a world of art and beauty and the tender caress of one who cares that waited. There was a future so bright it burned, so lovely it promised to last forever, and the girl wished for a million forever in the span of a second. For darkness cannot remain dark when so many fires begin to spark, ignited slowly and then quicker and quicker." But how does she confess what a broken dream feels like? How do flames turn from ice into fire and a million forevers? "And you know what that flaming girl did? She reached for that wish, she dared to dream and taste fate - once heaven fell onto her tongue it would never be enough. It would consume her, she knew, but how could anything that sweet ever turn into something so awful? Those dreams gave her wings, Sabine, and on hopeful winds she rose and rose and rose higher and higher into the sunset skies. If you look along the horizon, sometimes you can still see her dancing on mountaintops and trees, do you hear that laughter in the wind?" Even the world stops to listen, leans in close just as the Pegasus does, letting the sigh and moan of the breeze sing to them as only it can. Every dandelion and leaf and branch shivers when that haunting laugh from Moira's own lips flutters out like a meteor shower, so brief and beautiful and unlike anything else. "Her dreams set her free and her wishes led her exactly where she needed to be. The world is not so dark, not so sad, if you open your heart and your mind and your soul. You do not have to be so alone, little one. If ever you are in need, look to the stars and the setting sun and I will find you." In her smile is the promise of a friend, the reassurance that everything will be alright. It is not a healer who stares at the broken-hearted girl, who reaches out, inches closer to lie alongside her in comfort and comradery and a million dreams play out beneath closed eyes. When she opens them again, there are galaxies and worlds teeming with life and laughter in that honeyed gaze. There is the promise of a better future that she will force from light and phoenix fury and the courage of dreamers like them. |
