Moira Tonnerre
agony is the color of my heart
I am not coming home,
.
.
.
The words look like blood, like death, like famine. They look like all those still-born children she helped bring into this world that would never scream, never cry out their defiance for interrupting such warmth and comfort a mother should provide - did provide. They look like the tears of Isra's dragon born of the sea as their sea-water queen, their storyteller queen was. They look like a death sentence and the shattering of her heart.
How many times, Moira wonders, can her heart break for Denocte?
There was a song that brought her - a song of the sea, not of the humid jungles that twine between Moira and Neerja. Sweet, brave, fierce Neerja who stalks in the pegasus' shadow, who curls about her in the lightest part of the day when nightmares would scream their damnation within her bursting head. Darling, possessive, jealous Neerja who looks at the dragon and senses the sorrow that boils like a geyser ready to blow. She looks to her cub, to her winged girl, to her broken girl, and wonders if it is a river of sadness that their land must feel before so that the water will nourish all that is to grow.
Neerja looks to Fable and does not growl. She leans closer to sniff at the salt of his skin, prowls nearer to take in all of the green and blue creature that does not lurk in her jungles but lurks in the markets only just starting to reopen and ring merrily once more within the kingdom.
And Moira looks to the dragon too, she can feel the icy blood pumping through them both, she can see the pulse beneath hard scales, she can find the depressions in every curve of Fable's mighty wings and know that he misses Isra just as much.
I will be war, Isra claims, and Moira knows that her unicorn will not come back unscathed. A great shadow has reached for them all, a monster threatening the beating heart of every artist, every lover, every dreamer of Denocte.
And Moira Tonnerre, a great and powerful daughter of the mighty Tonnerre Empire, Emissary of the Night Court, a Healer for all peoples, a girl born of fire and passion and all the goodness of two hearts...she will not stand for such a tragedy to be written.
Golden eyes are dried of all tears, unable to figure out what it is to cry for those sorrows when so many have already been written on her pillows, so many stained into her sheets, so many swallowed by Neerja's soft and rugged fur. There is nothing but agony as she looks up to Fable, reaches her nose forward until they are pressed together, until she remembers how her unicorn was when Fable merely twined infinity between them. Then, there was no beginning nor end.
This is not their end, and this is far from their beginning.
"Fable," the fire-girl says, standing tall and proud and a pillar of strength, a pillar of light, for the sweet dragon whose heart cries for that he is so far from. "She is alive and she is well and she is breathing. I know you feel her anger, her ire, the fury of her. I do not know what our unicorn has become, what my sister-kin has become." She pauses, thoughtful, bright, beautiful "I will love her until I can love no more. I do not care what our unicorn has become, I do not care for the scars that will line her or the memories that will haunt her. Bring her home when all is done, tell our unicorn, my sweet, sweet Isra… Tell her that Denocte will stand strong. Tell Isra that I will be her burning light and there will be a candle in the window until her return. Tell her to remember what love is, what life and light and the glory of our people is. Tell her for me Fable."
For there is no time for a letter, not when wings of fire and feather already brush scales and sea, not when fur of orange and night already hum against a phoenix' side, not when there is war on the horizon and the pieces on the board begin to move once again.
Moira will wait for her Queen's return and she will make a shield of starlight and hellfire to protect all within their realm. Death will stop at their gates and remember to knock before sweeping in.
They will not fall.
They will be eternal as the stars.
They will rise, red as the dawn.
.
.
.
The words look like blood, like death, like famine. They look like all those still-born children she helped bring into this world that would never scream, never cry out their defiance for interrupting such warmth and comfort a mother should provide - did provide. They look like the tears of Isra's dragon born of the sea as their sea-water queen, their storyteller queen was. They look like a death sentence and the shattering of her heart.
How many times, Moira wonders, can her heart break for Denocte?
There was a song that brought her - a song of the sea, not of the humid jungles that twine between Moira and Neerja. Sweet, brave, fierce Neerja who stalks in the pegasus' shadow, who curls about her in the lightest part of the day when nightmares would scream their damnation within her bursting head. Darling, possessive, jealous Neerja who looks at the dragon and senses the sorrow that boils like a geyser ready to blow. She looks to her cub, to her winged girl, to her broken girl, and wonders if it is a river of sadness that their land must feel before so that the water will nourish all that is to grow.
Neerja looks to Fable and does not growl. She leans closer to sniff at the salt of his skin, prowls nearer to take in all of the green and blue creature that does not lurk in her jungles but lurks in the markets only just starting to reopen and ring merrily once more within the kingdom.
And Moira looks to the dragon too, she can feel the icy blood pumping through them both, she can see the pulse beneath hard scales, she can find the depressions in every curve of Fable's mighty wings and know that he misses Isra just as much.
I will be war, Isra claims, and Moira knows that her unicorn will not come back unscathed. A great shadow has reached for them all, a monster threatening the beating heart of every artist, every lover, every dreamer of Denocte.
And Moira Tonnerre, a great and powerful daughter of the mighty Tonnerre Empire, Emissary of the Night Court, a Healer for all peoples, a girl born of fire and passion and all the goodness of two hearts...she will not stand for such a tragedy to be written.
Golden eyes are dried of all tears, unable to figure out what it is to cry for those sorrows when so many have already been written on her pillows, so many stained into her sheets, so many swallowed by Neerja's soft and rugged fur. There is nothing but agony as she looks up to Fable, reaches her nose forward until they are pressed together, until she remembers how her unicorn was when Fable merely twined infinity between them. Then, there was no beginning nor end.
This is not their end, and this is far from their beginning.
"Fable," the fire-girl says, standing tall and proud and a pillar of strength, a pillar of light, for the sweet dragon whose heart cries for that he is so far from. "She is alive and she is well and she is breathing. I know you feel her anger, her ire, the fury of her. I do not know what our unicorn has become, what my sister-kin has become." She pauses, thoughtful, bright, beautiful "I will love her until I can love no more. I do not care what our unicorn has become, I do not care for the scars that will line her or the memories that will haunt her. Bring her home when all is done, tell our unicorn, my sweet, sweet Isra… Tell her that Denocte will stand strong. Tell Isra that I will be her burning light and there will be a candle in the window until her return. Tell her to remember what love is, what life and light and the glory of our people is. Tell her for me Fable."
For there is no time for a letter, not when wings of fire and feather already brush scales and sea, not when fur of orange and night already hum against a phoenix' side, not when there is war on the horizon and the pieces on the board begin to move once again.
Moira will wait for her Queen's return and she will make a shield of starlight and hellfire to protect all within their realm. Death will stop at their gates and remember to knock before sweeping in.
They will not fall.
They will be eternal as the stars.
They will rise, red as the dawn.
@Isra | "moira" "neerja" | notes: eeeh sorry this took so long ! fable plz stay, mo forgot to invite you to comfort her and meet neerja for the night oops
