M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
Spring ends, Summer ends, and with the coming of Fall, borders are splayed wide. Fear that was so heavy from martyrs and tyrants, spread through poachers and death, dissipates as the festivities and breath of Autumn enters into every Court across all of Novus. When the ships return bearing Isra and her resurrected people, returning Michael to her side, and Asterion rises from the grave, Moira turns away from it all, if only for a week or two.
The Emissary knows she should stay within her own court, but she travels North. Quiet and slow is her journey while Neerja stays within the walls of Denocte, telling her beloved, strange cub of all she misses. The phoenix does not falter, does not stray from her path, her journey. She has been to Dusk and she has been to Day, and now, Moira once more journeys into the reopened arms of Delumine. When she comes it is dark and fragrant, but something calls, somewhere sings. There is a humming over the fields, a light soft as her stars and just as bright. Like a mirror of the moon, the Illuster Meadow smiles, twinkling with pale, glowing flowers.
It is the cosmos come to earth.
From petals she plucks the stardust, lets it shimmer before her. Golden eyes light up, light up as they have not in months, and she feels laughter, feels wonder inside of her soul. It bubbles like a quiet brook, barely a trickle when there is a draught, but opening back up when the storm seasons come. It tickles her ribs, lightly running feather-soft fingers over her spine, slipping gently into her hair to massage her neck. She does not realize she is smiling until her cheeks ache from it, she does not realize there is laughter dappling the flowers, her laughter, and tears upon her cheeks until she hears it, feels their moisture.
There is release that is taking over and the Tonnerre girl is totally unprepared. For a moment, two, three, countless more, she stands there simply marveling that she can still laugh, can still smile. Something about the magic in the air, the light on the ground, the feeling that she's walking in space, it all makes her giddy, makes her softer.
Moira always meets him softly with something of love on her mind. He always finds her unexpectedly in the strangest of ways. On a beach with a tiger trailing them and determination in her heart. Now, in a field of flowers with his noise pressed into stardust and serenity filling his face. Slowly, she leans her dark nose down, gently pressing their cheeks together as she dips her lips to brush against the petals and say hello.
With a murmur of breath she says "Hello again, Ipomoea." Again, she reaches within herself and pulls light from the petals. She sprinkles it along the man's dark face until he shines like the not-stars that pull away his worries, too. "You haven't changed much."
@Ipomoea <3
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
Spring ends, Summer ends, and with the coming of Fall, borders are splayed wide. Fear that was so heavy from martyrs and tyrants, spread through poachers and death, dissipates as the festivities and breath of Autumn enters into every Court across all of Novus. When the ships return bearing Isra and her resurrected people, returning Michael to her side, and Asterion rises from the grave, Moira turns away from it all, if only for a week or two.
The Emissary knows she should stay within her own court, but she travels North. Quiet and slow is her journey while Neerja stays within the walls of Denocte, telling her beloved, strange cub of all she misses. The phoenix does not falter, does not stray from her path, her journey. She has been to Dusk and she has been to Day, and now, Moira once more journeys into the reopened arms of Delumine. When she comes it is dark and fragrant, but something calls, somewhere sings. There is a humming over the fields, a light soft as her stars and just as bright. Like a mirror of the moon, the Illuster Meadow smiles, twinkling with pale, glowing flowers.
It is the cosmos come to earth.
From petals she plucks the stardust, lets it shimmer before her. Golden eyes light up, light up as they have not in months, and she feels laughter, feels wonder inside of her soul. It bubbles like a quiet brook, barely a trickle when there is a draught, but opening back up when the storm seasons come. It tickles her ribs, lightly running feather-soft fingers over her spine, slipping gently into her hair to massage her neck. She does not realize she is smiling until her cheeks ache from it, she does not realize there is laughter dappling the flowers, her laughter, and tears upon her cheeks until she hears it, feels their moisture.
There is release that is taking over and the Tonnerre girl is totally unprepared. For a moment, two, three, countless more, she stands there simply marveling that she can still laugh, can still smile. Something about the magic in the air, the light on the ground, the feeling that she's walking in space, it all makes her giddy, makes her softer.
Moira always meets him softly with something of love on her mind. He always finds her unexpectedly in the strangest of ways. On a beach with a tiger trailing them and determination in her heart. Now, in a field of flowers with his noise pressed into stardust and serenity filling his face. Slowly, she leans her dark nose down, gently pressing their cheeks together as she dips her lips to brush against the petals and say hello.
With a murmur of breath she says "Hello again, Ipomoea." Again, she reaches within herself and pulls light from the petals. She sprinkles it along the man's dark face until he shines like the not-stars that pull away his worries, too. "You haven't changed much."
@Ipomoea <3
