A LITTLE MAYHEM NEVER HURT ANYONE
Grueling tensions // Want me in a spiral // I'm waiting to unravel // Twisted motives // Drive me in a circle // I'm dying to untangle
Mourning. Grief. These emotions are not ones Morrighan is very familiar with. She's certainly lost some important people in her life, but she was always the type to simply move on. Sitting and wallowing in sadness is a waste of time, in her mind, and there are more productive things to be doing.
There are great bonfires and dancing, bringing a different spin on what she knows as mourning. Everyone handles their emotions differently and for her, sometimes it's easier to set something on fire and then be done with it. Walk away and find something else to do. That is why this section of the festival seems so strange to her. There are altars placed on the sides of the markets with candles and other special items. There are many names she does not recognize, although she remembers Asterion and Acton being muttered at one point. Some are crying, some are laughing.
The sight of a tiger next to a winged mare is what really draws her attention. She knows that tiger, she remembers it from the lake, but most recently from the island. How could she forget that altercation? The one where she was trying to get information out of a stranger that seemed not-too-strange to Moira, who then reamed her out for no apparent reason.
Well, clearly her words had no repercussions because she now held the title of Warden. Isra had yet to question her loyalty.
Next to Moira is Boudika, who she hears ask "Why do you grieve him?" She is about to make some kind of snarky comment when she looks down and sees it. That name. The one that burned on her tongue and destroyed the lives of many. The one who took Isra and set fire to these very markets.
And Moira has set something down on his very altar.
There is bubbling rage inside Morrighan, perhaps the strongest she has felt in a long time. The ground beneath her hooves burn and she so badly wants to reach out and turn the entire altar into ash. To watch the name tag catch fire and burn burn burn.
But she waits, she tries to hold it in, because there are more pressing matters at hand.
"That is a good question. What side are you on exactly, Moira Tonnerre?" she asks, her voice almost like a growl. Her eyes say it all if her tone doesn't and she is not afraid of the backlash she may likely face. After all, it isn't her loyalty that is in question.
@Moira @Boudika Sorry I couldn't resist… xD
"Speaking."
There are great bonfires and dancing, bringing a different spin on what she knows as mourning. Everyone handles their emotions differently and for her, sometimes it's easier to set something on fire and then be done with it. Walk away and find something else to do. That is why this section of the festival seems so strange to her. There are altars placed on the sides of the markets with candles and other special items. There are many names she does not recognize, although she remembers Asterion and Acton being muttered at one point. Some are crying, some are laughing.
The sight of a tiger next to a winged mare is what really draws her attention. She knows that tiger, she remembers it from the lake, but most recently from the island. How could she forget that altercation? The one where she was trying to get information out of a stranger that seemed not-too-strange to Moira, who then reamed her out for no apparent reason.
Well, clearly her words had no repercussions because she now held the title of Warden. Isra had yet to question her loyalty.
Next to Moira is Boudika, who she hears ask "Why do you grieve him?" She is about to make some kind of snarky comment when she looks down and sees it. That name. The one that burned on her tongue and destroyed the lives of many. The one who took Isra and set fire to these very markets.
And Moira has set something down on his very altar.
There is bubbling rage inside Morrighan, perhaps the strongest she has felt in a long time. The ground beneath her hooves burn and she so badly wants to reach out and turn the entire altar into ash. To watch the name tag catch fire and burn burn burn.
But she waits, she tries to hold it in, because there are more pressing matters at hand.
"That is a good question. What side are you on exactly, Moira Tonnerre?" she asks, her voice almost like a growl. Her eyes say it all if her tone doesn't and she is not afraid of the backlash she may likely face. After all, it isn't her loyalty that is in question.
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