two lovers went hand in hand;
"I was wrong," she says simply, but not softly. The words do not feel like a nail in her coffin; ropes she hadn't known that tethered her to the ground, to the past, fray and are cut one by one. Each syllable is a prayer, is an unleashing.
She lets the ropes fall like dandelion heads in children's hands.
Lighter and lighter, Moira almost feels as though she could fly. But of course, those lessons never came and she is grounded beside the man of love and anger and roiling emotions that make him just as human as she is. And perhaps that is why she was so afraid.
To be a Tonnerre is to be cold, to be untouchable. They wore their silver and lightning, they smiled with shark-toothed grins and dead eyes. Only the barbs upon her skin and carefully constructed towers and gates kept her afloat, kept her a part of them when they would seek to tear her down and shred her into a pile of ribbons. Red is such a lovely color to watch fall, drip down, down, down until all life bleeds from the skin and only a corpse remains. She would know, she'd seen it happen after so many unlucky births. She'd seen others who went out alone and broke something or another (something vital, important, worth more than words and insults) come back only to leave them once again.
Her armor was her unwavering devotion to self and career.
It shattered when he made his way through it, shot hole after hole through her and tied her moons to his sun. Forever made to orbit one another, but not quite touch. "I was a coward and you called me out on it, your ire was earned, but I'm glad you are here with me. I know why you love her because I love her the same... Different, but the same." She smiles to him then, sweet and soft and sad as though a thousand truths have broken her down and let something else (something hardier and wiser) blossom in their gaps. Even cement jungles have breathtaking views. Where cracks open, something magical rises up to fill those gaps until she is whole once more.
A thoughtful look at what's ahead (who is ahead) and then over to Eik has her humming. There is a light in her voice, electricity running along her skin (along her spine) until she speaks again. Like floodgates crumbling, words leak out steady and slow. "They told me there was no room in their heart..." how her voice wavers, like the sparrow's song. Trilling up and down, a cadence of music and magic and mystery. "Don't worry, I'm not giving up so easily." With that, she winks, and steps forward into the flow of bodies.
notes: no worries !!! i'm sorry for the wait as well, you lovely, beautiful lady
