Moira Coombs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chasingtwisters) wrote2014-09-09 08:28 am
chasingtwisters) wrote2014-09-09 08:28 am
Entry tags:
I tip my cap to the raging sea. {Open; tw: mentions of vomit, emotional distress}
Since her confrontation with Aoife in the cafe, where she had been trying to make an effort with her brother, Moira's felt ill, and not with morning sickness. Her sister hates her; her cousin hates her. What else is there but for the whole town to hate her, too? She has to contain her magic as she runs back in the direction of her home; yet sparks keep flying from her entire body regardless, and she knows people are staring.
When she finally reaches her cottage, she runs right past it, to the beach that is her backyard. She finally collapses, out of breath, into the sand. She chucks her jacket and her shoes off into the dunes before she falls over and pukes what little she's eaten for breakfast; she cleans her mess away with a wave of her hand, just as the tears, hot and heavy like the anchor that is her heart inside of her, start to spill down her cheeks.
As she cries, the sparks flying from her channels into something deeper; a more ancient part of herself that calls out to the sea. The waters respond with resounding clarity.
The skies darken and the waters churn; to anyone casually glancing towards the ocean, it looks like the start of a hurricane. Moira stares as the water gradually raises and the winds start to blow. Rain starts falling in time with her tears, and Moira just stands there.
She can take the anger; hell, she can take the dirty looks. But her own sister's words seep into her skin like so much poison and all she can dwell on now is the curse she'll pass onto her daughter simply for being a Coombs.
OOC: Moira has reached her breaking point. It is her magic causing the storming sea and clouds; it's basically only happening around the beach on Moira's property, but, obviously, it's still really noticeable. She's really, really upset right now and could really use a friend or, at least, someone to talk her down.
When she finally reaches her cottage, she runs right past it, to the beach that is her backyard. She finally collapses, out of breath, into the sand. She chucks her jacket and her shoes off into the dunes before she falls over and pukes what little she's eaten for breakfast; she cleans her mess away with a wave of her hand, just as the tears, hot and heavy like the anchor that is her heart inside of her, start to spill down her cheeks.
As she cries, the sparks flying from her channels into something deeper; a more ancient part of herself that calls out to the sea. The waters respond with resounding clarity.
The skies darken and the waters churn; to anyone casually glancing towards the ocean, it looks like the start of a hurricane. Moira stares as the water gradually raises and the winds start to blow. Rain starts falling in time with her tears, and Moira just stands there.
She can take the anger; hell, she can take the dirty looks. But her own sister's words seep into her skin like so much poison and all she can dwell on now is the curse she'll pass onto her daughter simply for being a Coombs.
OOC: Moira has reached her breaking point. It is her magic causing the storming sea and clouds; it's basically only happening around the beach on Moira's property, but, obviously, it's still really noticeable. She's really, really upset right now and could really use a friend or, at least, someone to talk her down.
no subject
She stares though, when Nerium tells her of her own grandmother exchanging her innocence for power.
"That's pretty fucked up," she points out. "But I might have to take you up on your offer."
no subject
Nerium positions her palms over one another, leaving a gap of air in between which she encircles and loops. When it's completed, a glowing stone appears in her hand. She offers it out to Moira.
"Should you wish to find me, this will grant you safe passage to my manor." Nerium whispers a few words at the violent clouds ahead. Those in the center meet and twist into a waterspout. Anger, agony, contained and controlled.