M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
"that's a shame," she breathes somewhere between admiration and damnation, assessing him once more with a raised brow and pursed lips, "perhaps you might have been enough of a dignified prat to leave me be and get your amusement out of my sleeping face. Like any other brute would have." No, that statement wasn't necessarily true, but it suits her in the moment and she's too aggravated to take it back or reconsider now. Already Mo is making an ass of herself, why not just let her tarnish her reputation more than already has been done?
The laughter in his eyes is really what pushes her, forcing fire into her bloodstream until she truly seems a phoenix reborn, just hatching in a beautiful display of fiery breath and arching wings. Wings that now flare - something that would be threatening if they did not wobble, did not show how much she did not understand of her own abilities and reveal exactly what the woman is lacking. Control - control of her own emotions and even her own body. His attention fades, and she hopes it is the last he'll give her for a few short hours more, thankful for his silence and the glossy look in those pretty silver eyes. If she were honest, Moira would admit she can get lost in those eyes, much like the stars in Asterion's gaze, it's easy to fall into the mercurial pools to try and riddle out answers that will not come as words. Even when young, Mo was always a sucker for eyes. "They're the windows to our souls, Moira Elizabet Tonnerre," her mother would whisper in the mornings before sending Mo off to lessons where she would see the coldness in her family's gaze. It did not matter which mirror she looked in, which lessons she perfected in which she gained top marks, Moira was always a stain upon her family's name until she proved otherwise. But her mother... Mo always trusts in her mother and father.
However, this man before her... she does not trust him and only offers a roll of her pretty golden eyes when he opens his mouth again. She could be a lioness in those moments between their heartbeats, blazing to life like a flame and roaring at him. Of course, a cause more noble that waking her up would have been lovely, but Moira usually keeps herself more gathered when she is working and fully functional. "To take another's life in your hands is to be bold, isn't it?" Not quite the answer others would give, but she's finding herself rather liking the edges that Caine has found on her. Before, Mo would have told you she's trained to be as smooth as a stone in the river, having spent years being nurtured into what she is today - levelheaded, calm, tenacious. Now... Now there were edges that are not yet rounded, untampered by all the training she's endured to get here, edges that might be useful if she ever saw this prickly man again.
Of course, when wings rustle upon the ground, becoming visible in the moonlight that streams in from a window high above (forgotten save for when it is brightest outside), and illuminated before her very eyes, she gasps. Shock is a living monster within her, pounding at her ribs, seizing the rhythm of her heart until she's nearly silent and looking toward the grounds. Wings... Obviously there are others with wings outside of the Family - her mother is not a Tonnerre and she has wings... But her mother gave up flight for the family, to remain with Moira and Anselme no matter the cost to her freedom.
Wings...
Seconds pass and the phoenix does not draw breath, caught between here and somewhere else. Is this what it feels like to be in shock, she wonders momentarily? Will she start hiccupping with hysterical laughter soon, or simply faint from lack of oxygen?
It takes a moment for the terror to settle in her blood, until she tastes iron in her mouth from her torn lip that she is not sure when she bit so hard. Bright eyes - alight with something that is anything but fire - flick up to be sure she sees the wings that are there. Two twin sets are illuminated under the moonlight. And it's a sight so completely awful and horrifying she turns away. "I should put these up." A lame excuse, but is it enough to escape him?
@Caine waves. so apparently we have a fear of wings. that's pretty neat ovo
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
"that's a shame," she breathes somewhere between admiration and damnation, assessing him once more with a raised brow and pursed lips, "perhaps you might have been enough of a dignified prat to leave me be and get your amusement out of my sleeping face. Like any other brute would have." No, that statement wasn't necessarily true, but it suits her in the moment and she's too aggravated to take it back or reconsider now. Already Mo is making an ass of herself, why not just let her tarnish her reputation more than already has been done?
The laughter in his eyes is really what pushes her, forcing fire into her bloodstream until she truly seems a phoenix reborn, just hatching in a beautiful display of fiery breath and arching wings. Wings that now flare - something that would be threatening if they did not wobble, did not show how much she did not understand of her own abilities and reveal exactly what the woman is lacking. Control - control of her own emotions and even her own body. His attention fades, and she hopes it is the last he'll give her for a few short hours more, thankful for his silence and the glossy look in those pretty silver eyes. If she were honest, Moira would admit she can get lost in those eyes, much like the stars in Asterion's gaze, it's easy to fall into the mercurial pools to try and riddle out answers that will not come as words. Even when young, Mo was always a sucker for eyes. "They're the windows to our souls, Moira Elizabet Tonnerre," her mother would whisper in the mornings before sending Mo off to lessons where she would see the coldness in her family's gaze. It did not matter which mirror she looked in, which lessons she perfected in which she gained top marks, Moira was always a stain upon her family's name until she proved otherwise. But her mother... Mo always trusts in her mother and father.
However, this man before her... she does not trust him and only offers a roll of her pretty golden eyes when he opens his mouth again. She could be a lioness in those moments between their heartbeats, blazing to life like a flame and roaring at him. Of course, a cause more noble that waking her up would have been lovely, but Moira usually keeps herself more gathered when she is working and fully functional. "To take another's life in your hands is to be bold, isn't it?" Not quite the answer others would give, but she's finding herself rather liking the edges that Caine has found on her. Before, Mo would have told you she's trained to be as smooth as a stone in the river, having spent years being nurtured into what she is today - levelheaded, calm, tenacious. Now... Now there were edges that are not yet rounded, untampered by all the training she's endured to get here, edges that might be useful if she ever saw this prickly man again.
Of course, when wings rustle upon the ground, becoming visible in the moonlight that streams in from a window high above (forgotten save for when it is brightest outside), and illuminated before her very eyes, she gasps. Shock is a living monster within her, pounding at her ribs, seizing the rhythm of her heart until she's nearly silent and looking toward the grounds. Wings... Obviously there are others with wings outside of the Family - her mother is not a Tonnerre and she has wings... But her mother gave up flight for the family, to remain with Moira and Anselme no matter the cost to her freedom.
Wings...
Seconds pass and the phoenix does not draw breath, caught between here and somewhere else. Is this what it feels like to be in shock, she wonders momentarily? Will she start hiccupping with hysterical laughter soon, or simply faint from lack of oxygen?
It takes a moment for the terror to settle in her blood, until she tastes iron in her mouth from her torn lip that she is not sure when she bit so hard. Bright eyes - alight with something that is anything but fire - flick up to be sure she sees the wings that are there. Two twin sets are illuminated under the moonlight. And it's a sight so completely awful and horrifying she turns away. "I should put these up." A lame excuse, but is it enough to escape him?
@Caine waves. so apparently we have a fear of wings. that's pretty neat ovo
