Moira Tonnerre
i will burn and burn and burn again, and you will come home safely
That sun-fire smile is turned over the orange of her back, an imploring glance thrown to Michael as he watches her move into the tavern. When he follows her back to the bar, and then to the table, she cannot help but wonder why he shows such friendship, such loyalty. What has she - a girl of humble and cruel origins, of still life portraits and voodoo doll people, of half emotions and plentiful anger - has done to inspire such a gentle and true companion? If she seems softer for his presence or more pensive, who is to tell?
Aside from Isra and Eik and Asterion, who has she let bleed into her heart and been around enough to know the subtle changes in her breathing or the length it takes to blink and blink again?
No one, something whispers cold and true.
She does not ask these questions, now, instead she hums for a moment, lost in thought. Where to begin? What to do? Gold and black turns to the blue of Neerja's gaze, the tiger waiting expectantly. Pushed so long from the phoenix' mind, Neerja is crass and upset, but a faithful companion beside her strange winged cub nonetheless. They stare for what seems an eternity, emotions flickering back and forth, until at last the tiger's paw swipes the cider off the table, sending it flying over the floor and feet of the many who pass by. There seems to be a satisfied huff from the tiger who only flicks her tail with bared teeth before sitting haughtily beside their table.
The Tonnerre girl frowns, delicate mouth curving down with a sour look and an annoyed sigh. "I suppose I deserved that," reaching out with her hind leg, she pushes the tiger away but a an inch or two before clucking her tongue with a shake of her head. "Only alright?" she asks gently.
Lips purse and she nods at last. "I followed you in, I meant to stay by your side I suppose, but the fogs grew too thick. They descended like a pack of cackling hyenas, hunger wrapped in the mist as it ate away my vision and everything but the sounds." Here, she pauses, eyes as foggy as the woods that night, remembering the way the girl cowered when the creatures of white came to devour her, too. "When a girl screamed I reacted. Not because I wished to save her, but because I could not let her die of terror. What a sad way to go," and perhaps Cal had reminded Moira of a sad thing she'd been once. Even for a second. So she'd charged in without consideration of herself as she'd always done. "When the light struck, the girl was plucked up and they changed. I saw an old friend."
Eluoan. A mentor, her muse and guardian when even her parents had not kept her safe.
"They led me to a clearing that is no longer there. Katniss and I stood before a girl who was no longer a girl and were asked a question. Somehow, I was found worthy, and she spoke with me at length. When she disappeared, she shed no more tears and left me on the edges of the woods. It is from there which I have come, and now here we are." The phoenix stops, looks up to ask for something stronger than the cider Neerja spilled, before turning back. A small shrug is accompanied by "I suppose it wasn't much of a tale after all." Beside them, a server stops - clear of Neerja and her glowering eyes, her extended claws - and hands the Emissary a drink, quick to scuttle away from sharp words and condescending tones should any linger unwanted too long. Sipping it, she looks at him from beneath dark lashes, unsure what to say or do next, but letting him take charge of the meeting however he wished.
Aside from Isra and Eik and Asterion, who has she let bleed into her heart and been around enough to know the subtle changes in her breathing or the length it takes to blink and blink again?
No one, something whispers cold and true.
She does not ask these questions, now, instead she hums for a moment, lost in thought. Where to begin? What to do? Gold and black turns to the blue of Neerja's gaze, the tiger waiting expectantly. Pushed so long from the phoenix' mind, Neerja is crass and upset, but a faithful companion beside her strange winged cub nonetheless. They stare for what seems an eternity, emotions flickering back and forth, until at last the tiger's paw swipes the cider off the table, sending it flying over the floor and feet of the many who pass by. There seems to be a satisfied huff from the tiger who only flicks her tail with bared teeth before sitting haughtily beside their table.
The Tonnerre girl frowns, delicate mouth curving down with a sour look and an annoyed sigh. "I suppose I deserved that," reaching out with her hind leg, she pushes the tiger away but a an inch or two before clucking her tongue with a shake of her head. "Only alright?" she asks gently.
Lips purse and she nods at last. "I followed you in, I meant to stay by your side I suppose, but the fogs grew too thick. They descended like a pack of cackling hyenas, hunger wrapped in the mist as it ate away my vision and everything but the sounds." Here, she pauses, eyes as foggy as the woods that night, remembering the way the girl cowered when the creatures of white came to devour her, too. "When a girl screamed I reacted. Not because I wished to save her, but because I could not let her die of terror. What a sad way to go," and perhaps Cal had reminded Moira of a sad thing she'd been once. Even for a second. So she'd charged in without consideration of herself as she'd always done. "When the light struck, the girl was plucked up and they changed. I saw an old friend."
Eluoan. A mentor, her muse and guardian when even her parents had not kept her safe.
"They led me to a clearing that is no longer there. Katniss and I stood before a girl who was no longer a girl and were asked a question. Somehow, I was found worthy, and she spoke with me at length. When she disappeared, she shed no more tears and left me on the edges of the woods. It is from there which I have come, and now here we are." The phoenix stops, looks up to ask for something stronger than the cider Neerja spilled, before turning back. A small shrug is accompanied by "I suppose it wasn't much of a tale after all." Beside them, a server stops - clear of Neerja and her glowering eyes, her extended claws - and hands the Emissary a drink, quick to scuttle away from sharp words and condescending tones should any linger unwanted too long. Sipping it, she looks at him from beneath dark lashes, unsure what to say or do next, but letting him take charge of the meeting however he wished.
@Michael | "moira" "neerja" | notes: you inspire me so
