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And baby makes two. [Open for all; tw for mentions of birth but nothing graphic]
Moira wakes up in the middle of Thursday night with severe pain and the certainty that she's in labor. Her maternal and witch instincts come together as one to tell her so. She spends a few minutes freaking out before she has the sense to call her midwife, a local witch she met through one of her customers soon after she remembered herself. Lila, prompt as ever, arrives nearly thirty seconds after Moira hangs up, teleporting into her living room as they agreed upon.
She spends hours in labor, clutching at the sides of her tub as Lila helps her through it, with magical and comforting words both. Above all else, Moira is terrified. Terrified that she'll be an awful mother; terrified at the sorts of powers her daughter will inherit. Terrified that anyone might try to harm her daughter because of who she is and where she comes from. It sends shudders running through her just as much as the pain does.
"You're almost there," Lila shouts at her. "Come on, girl. Push!"
---
Now the middle of Friday afternoon, Moira sits on her porch, cradling her beautiful daughter in her arms, bundled up in a lilac blanket and dozing. She's texted family and friends, of course, and she's waiting to see who shows up. Moira can't bring herself to look away; her daughter is so precious and small. She's perfect. She's still worried, of course. But more than that, Moira is entirely overcome. She has a daughter. A beautiful, wonderful daughter. And she loves her the way she's never loved anyone else before. She knows that deep in her heart.
"Welcome to the world, Bronwyn Rose Coombs," she whispers for what feels like the millionth time that day.
[ooc: Moira's daughter, Bronwyn Rose! For those curious, this is what Bronwyn looks like. Feel free to have Moira texted your pup if they're close, or to see her on the porch with Bronwyn! Open to all!]
She spends hours in labor, clutching at the sides of her tub as Lila helps her through it, with magical and comforting words both. Above all else, Moira is terrified. Terrified that she'll be an awful mother; terrified at the sorts of powers her daughter will inherit. Terrified that anyone might try to harm her daughter because of who she is and where she comes from. It sends shudders running through her just as much as the pain does.
"You're almost there," Lila shouts at her. "Come on, girl. Push!"
Now the middle of Friday afternoon, Moira sits on her porch, cradling her beautiful daughter in her arms, bundled up in a lilac blanket and dozing. She's texted family and friends, of course, and she's waiting to see who shows up. Moira can't bring herself to look away; her daughter is so precious and small. She's perfect. She's still worried, of course. But more than that, Moira is entirely overcome. She has a daughter. A beautiful, wonderful daughter. And she loves her the way she's never loved anyone else before. She knows that deep in her heart.
"Welcome to the world, Bronwyn Rose Coombs," she whispers for what feels like the millionth time that day.
[ooc: Moira's daughter, Bronwyn Rose! For those curious, this is what Bronwyn looks like. Feel free to have Moira texted your pup if they're close, or to see her on the porch with Bronwyn! Open to all!]
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Lord I know I'm a weathered stone. [Open]
She's supposed to be on bed rest. That's what the midwife told her, when Moira went for a check up. Her child could come at any day, any moment now, and she shouldn't be moving around so much. But staying still has never been Moira's style; ever since she was a child, she'd spent most of her free time running across the sand of the beach or throwing herself in the water, when she wasn't practicing her magic. Moira Coombs is not a still person. She doesn't do calm or relaxing when told; especially when accompanied by the look of pure exasperation on her midwife's face.
So she's on the beach, but with a compromise, as imposed by Fabrice who looks exhausted as Moira feels, but won't specify why, exactly. She'll needle him about it until caves, the way she once did when they were children. He always gives in.
Now, he's arranging the food, mostly various cookies and cupcakes, and drinks, iced tea and lemonade, around on the blanket Moira lounges on, her bare feet buried in the sand with a book on magic in one hand.
"Come on, let me help," she pleads, giving him her best pout in the process. Fabrice shakes his head firmly.
"No. You're supposed to be on bed rest, you know. At home," he looks at her pointedly. Moira is quite exhausting to be around like this, frankly. Not that he'll actually say this to her face. But between nights spent searching for magical creatures as a distraction from his curse, and from researching remedies for the curse itself, Fabrice nearly finds himself at wit's end. "I'm already putting myself at risk from an irate midwife for this. Don't push your luck."
Moira rolls her eyes in response. He manages a grin at the familiarity of the sight.
Once he's finished arranging everything moments later, Fabrice falls back against the blanket himself with a heavy breath. At least the sky overhead is cloudy and the air is especially chilly around them. These are the days that he likes to best spend near the water, both for the lack of people and the contrast of grey against such a typical summer scene. He smiles to himself, keeping his gaze focused on the overcast sky.
"Dude, I'm the pregnant lady. Don't you go falling asleep on me," Moira nudges him in the shoulder.
"I make no promises," he replies with a laugh.
[OOC: Find both Moira and Fabrice at the beach! Indicate whichever one you'd like in your tag. Open to all!]
So she's on the beach, but with a compromise, as imposed by Fabrice who looks exhausted as Moira feels, but won't specify why, exactly. She'll needle him about it until caves, the way she once did when they were children. He always gives in.
Now, he's arranging the food, mostly various cookies and cupcakes, and drinks, iced tea and lemonade, around on the blanket Moira lounges on, her bare feet buried in the sand with a book on magic in one hand.
"Come on, let me help," she pleads, giving him her best pout in the process. Fabrice shakes his head firmly.
"No. You're supposed to be on bed rest, you know. At home," he looks at her pointedly. Moira is quite exhausting to be around like this, frankly. Not that he'll actually say this to her face. But between nights spent searching for magical creatures as a distraction from his curse, and from researching remedies for the curse itself, Fabrice nearly finds himself at wit's end. "I'm already putting myself at risk from an irate midwife for this. Don't push your luck."
Moira rolls her eyes in response. He manages a grin at the familiarity of the sight.
Once he's finished arranging everything moments later, Fabrice falls back against the blanket himself with a heavy breath. At least the sky overhead is cloudy and the air is especially chilly around them. These are the days that he likes to best spend near the water, both for the lack of people and the contrast of grey against such a typical summer scene. He smiles to himself, keeping his gaze focused on the overcast sky.
"Dude, I'm the pregnant lady. Don't you go falling asleep on me," Moira nudges him in the shoulder.
"I make no promises," he replies with a laugh.
[OOC: Find both Moira and Fabrice at the beach! Indicate whichever one you'd like in your tag. Open to all!]
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I am teaching myself how to be free. [Open]
It's early in the morning when Marina settles herself just on the edge of the water, letting her bare feet rest in the dampened sand where the water comes and goes. The sun is staggering out of the night and int the sky, casting the beach around her into an eerie glow. She has a book by her side, thick and heavy as any college textbook, except obviously older, with rips and tears all over the seams and pages. She has a topaz from one of the necklaces she owns curled protectively in her fist, and she wears a necklace made of lavender and mint leaves. Even if this doesn't work out, she muses, smirking, at least she'll smell pretty.
She found the spell Friday night, in her research. According to what she now knows of Moira Coombs, she ought to be able to pull this off, without any danger to the baby. Her hand with the topaz comes to rest on her swollen belly, thoughtful. I'm doing this for you, she thinks, because it's true. She doesn't know that she herself wants to entirely remember; but she owes her unborn child the truth, and, if she really is Moira Coombs, she owes it to Moira's sisters to remember, too.
She sighs, willing herself to relax. She drank the same chai tea Rian had before he'd read her hands to help her concentrate; now she just needs to do it, already. The instructions are easy enough to follow: raising her fist with the topaz, she holds it out over the water as she begins to read the words to the spell, written in a mixture of English and French, which comes to her from her high school French lessons.
The words blend musically into the air around her; the tide begins to pick up around her feet, whirling around her like a miniature whirlpool. She chants the incantation, repeating it the three times required, as warmth begins to cackle and pop within her, like fireworks. In the same vein, light begins to spark from her, and she worries briefly that she might, in fact, catch fire in doing this.
When she finishes the spell, she casts the topaz into the water. As soon as she does so, the water explodes, cascading around her and soaking her to the bone, though she does not feel the cold. She trembles all over as images and words spill out from all the cracks in her thoughts: her father teaching her how to swim on her fifth birthday, her twin sisters and her running together over the local playground, and her mother, when once she thought she cared about her. Moira manages one last gasp of air before the world fades to black and she falls back into the sand.
She awakens to the sun fully in the sky, and the chipper sounds of sea gulls circling around her, wondering if she has food. For her part, Moira feels groggy and unsteady, as though suffering from a hangover. She winces at the brightness and focuses hard on not losing what little she has in her stomach at the moment. And then it hits her, all at once. She's Moira Coombs; she got engaged in Europe, and she's about to become someone's mother.
And she's home, back in Siren Cove.
"Fuck!" She yells, still on her back on the sand, unsure if she has the strength to pick herself back up.
[OOC: Moira remembers! The spell itself takes place early in the morning, around four or five am. Moira herself waking up is set to 9 am. Feel free to have seen her perform the spell, or come across her still lying prone in the sand. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get Moira's shit together, but she's finally herself again! Any questions or concerns, just let me know!]
She found the spell Friday night, in her research. According to what she now knows of Moira Coombs, she ought to be able to pull this off, without any danger to the baby. Her hand with the topaz comes to rest on her swollen belly, thoughtful. I'm doing this for you, she thinks, because it's true. She doesn't know that she herself wants to entirely remember; but she owes her unborn child the truth, and, if she really is Moira Coombs, she owes it to Moira's sisters to remember, too.
She sighs, willing herself to relax. She drank the same chai tea Rian had before he'd read her hands to help her concentrate; now she just needs to do it, already. The instructions are easy enough to follow: raising her fist with the topaz, she holds it out over the water as she begins to read the words to the spell, written in a mixture of English and French, which comes to her from her high school French lessons.
The words blend musically into the air around her; the tide begins to pick up around her feet, whirling around her like a miniature whirlpool. She chants the incantation, repeating it the three times required, as warmth begins to cackle and pop within her, like fireworks. In the same vein, light begins to spark from her, and she worries briefly that she might, in fact, catch fire in doing this.
When she finishes the spell, she casts the topaz into the water. As soon as she does so, the water explodes, cascading around her and soaking her to the bone, though she does not feel the cold. She trembles all over as images and words spill out from all the cracks in her thoughts: her father teaching her how to swim on her fifth birthday, her twin sisters and her running together over the local playground, and her mother, when once she thought she cared about her. Moira manages one last gasp of air before the world fades to black and she falls back into the sand.
She awakens to the sun fully in the sky, and the chipper sounds of sea gulls circling around her, wondering if she has food. For her part, Moira feels groggy and unsteady, as though suffering from a hangover. She winces at the brightness and focuses hard on not losing what little she has in her stomach at the moment. And then it hits her, all at once. She's Moira Coombs; she got engaged in Europe, and she's about to become someone's mother.
And she's home, back in Siren Cove.
"Fuck!" She yells, still on her back on the sand, unsure if she has the strength to pick herself back up.
[OOC: Moira remembers! The spell itself takes place early in the morning, around four or five am. Moira herself waking up is set to 9 am. Feel free to have seen her perform the spell, or come across her still lying prone in the sand. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get Moira's shit together, but she's finally herself again! Any questions or concerns, just let me know!]
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And it's my whole heart, deemed and delivered a crime. [Open]
The closer she gets to her due date, the more obviously uncomfortable Marina becomes. Currently, she's roughly the size of a yoga ball around her stomach; she waddles like a duck whenever she has to walk anywhere, and staying upright on her own two feet feels like a task out of Greek mythology. The summer heat doesn't help, of course; it bears down on her like God's own judgement, making her skin crawl with unease and sweat both. The fear increases, too. She doesn't know how to be anyone's mother; she doesn't even know if her life is what she's thought it to be this whole time.
She doesn't like admitting that the people in this town who apparently recognize her have caused doubt to creep inside her mind. But gathered like insects, all sorts of doubts crowd in her thoughts, adding to the chaos of her overly pregnant body. She couldn't even stay in the Quill, with all of the buzzing in her head.
So she's hear on the beach, near the water. The water calls to her, like a long lost relative. She feels an unspoken pull towards it, as though she were part of the tide itself. She doesn't question it; she meanders across the shore, letting her bare feet savor the cool, salt water licking against it. Even in spite of her pregnancy and worries, she feels calmer. Less prone to bucking away from Siren Cove like a skittish colt.
She smiles, lifting her arms up to the sky in a moment of relief when she feels a sudden splash of coldness across herself. She blinks, and looks down to find that she's gotten water on herself. But how?
That's when she catches sight of her hands, and the cerulean sparks flying from them.
"What the actual fuck?" She gapes, nearly stumbling over her own to feet as she tries to make sense of what she's seeing.
[OOC: Find Moira at the edge of the water, freaking the hell out over her own magic, which she's just beginning to discover again. Her memory still isn't back yet, but she's beginning to realize that her memory is not what it ought to be. Not a bad time to meet her, actually. Open to all!]
She doesn't like admitting that the people in this town who apparently recognize her have caused doubt to creep inside her mind. But gathered like insects, all sorts of doubts crowd in her thoughts, adding to the chaos of her overly pregnant body. She couldn't even stay in the Quill, with all of the buzzing in her head.
So she's hear on the beach, near the water. The water calls to her, like a long lost relative. She feels an unspoken pull towards it, as though she were part of the tide itself. She doesn't question it; she meanders across the shore, letting her bare feet savor the cool, salt water licking against it. Even in spite of her pregnancy and worries, she feels calmer. Less prone to bucking away from Siren Cove like a skittish colt.
She smiles, lifting her arms up to the sky in a moment of relief when she feels a sudden splash of coldness across herself. She blinks, and looks down to find that she's gotten water on herself. But how?
That's when she catches sight of her hands, and the cerulean sparks flying from them.
"What the actual fuck?" She gapes, nearly stumbling over her own to feet as she tries to make sense of what she's seeing.
[OOC: Find Moira at the edge of the water, freaking the hell out over her own magic, which she's just beginning to discover again. Her memory still isn't back yet, but she's beginning to realize that her memory is not what it ought to be. Not a bad time to meet her, actually. Open to all!]
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So holy light shines on the things you have done. [Pre-dated to May 2, after fairy tale plot]
The pale blue sky catches Marina's gaze and holds it as the bus rumbles into the station. Her stomach and chest are both in knots, and not just from the child gradually unfurling within her. There's a familiarity to even the shapes of the clouds above her, as sharp and poignant as freshly fallen rain. For a moment, she has to close her eyes, to brace herself for what this town might allow her to see.
This is, of course, when the pain sets in; the aching beyond her usual pregnancy ails. Her spine stiffens at the suddenness of it, and she has to bite her lip from crying out. Behind her eyes, Stefan smiles at her as he reaches for her hand. Her breath catches as he leans in close; she can still taste the weight of their last kiss.
She opens her eyes to find several people giving her curious glances; she ignores them the way she ignores the pain in her back, moving her purse further up her shoulder as she reaches for her small suitcase. A man, not unkindly, offers his assistance as he passes her. She glares at him with the force of a hurricane.
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she says, voice taut. She's pregnant, not helpless. He seems to shudder as he walks away. Good, she finds herself thinking.
Marina doesn't so much walk off the bus as much as she stumbles, grasping at the door to keep herself stable as pain shoots up her back and visions flash like lightning in her mind. Losing Stefan. A strange woman with a knife in her hand. A ring of children, three girls and one boy, playing in the sand by the ocean. She grits her teeth, steeling herself as she makes her way off the bus.
"Miss can I - oh my God," a woman exclaims, clamping one hand over her mouth, as though she's just seen a ghost. Tired, in pain, and just wanting to figure out why that woman back in Paris sent her here in the first place, Marina is not here to be treated like some kind of spectacle.
With another glare, with what feels like embers churning in her gut, Marina promptly turns on her heels, struck with the desire to get as far away from this station as possible.
Instead, she falls to her knees, overwhelmed by her own body and the pain this town already seems to be causing her.
[OOC: Moira returns! Again, at the moment, her memory's wiped and she thinks her name is Marina. She could definitely use some help. For more details and if you have any questions, see this post and this
post. Open to all!]
This is, of course, when the pain sets in; the aching beyond her usual pregnancy ails. Her spine stiffens at the suddenness of it, and she has to bite her lip from crying out. Behind her eyes, Stefan smiles at her as he reaches for her hand. Her breath catches as he leans in close; she can still taste the weight of their last kiss.
She opens her eyes to find several people giving her curious glances; she ignores them the way she ignores the pain in her back, moving her purse further up her shoulder as she reaches for her small suitcase. A man, not unkindly, offers his assistance as he passes her. She glares at him with the force of a hurricane.
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she says, voice taut. She's pregnant, not helpless. He seems to shudder as he walks away. Good, she finds herself thinking.
Marina doesn't so much walk off the bus as much as she stumbles, grasping at the door to keep herself stable as pain shoots up her back and visions flash like lightning in her mind. Losing Stefan. A strange woman with a knife in her hand. A ring of children, three girls and one boy, playing in the sand by the ocean. She grits her teeth, steeling herself as she makes her way off the bus.
"Miss can I - oh my God," a woman exclaims, clamping one hand over her mouth, as though she's just seen a ghost. Tired, in pain, and just wanting to figure out why that woman back in Paris sent her here in the first place, Marina is not here to be treated like some kind of spectacle.
With another glare, with what feels like embers churning in her gut, Marina promptly turns on her heels, struck with the desire to get as far away from this station as possible.
Instead, she falls to her knees, overwhelmed by her own body and the pain this town already seems to be causing her.
[OOC: Moira returns! Again, at the moment, her memory's wiped and she thinks her name is Marina. She could definitely use some help. For more details and if you have any questions, see this post and this
post. Open to all!]
Revamped Plotting Page!
Use this space to plot with Moira! Just some stuff to keep in mind for the moment:
*She's five months pregnant.
*She's lost her memories due to magic.
*She doesn't know she's a witch currently.
*She does have the potential to go dark, which I think I'd like to explore eventually.
I'm so excited to have Moira back in the game, guys! I look forward to throwing her at everyone. :D
*She's five months pregnant.
*She's lost her memories due to magic.
*She doesn't know she's a witch currently.
*She does have the potential to go dark, which I think I'd like to explore eventually.
I'm so excited to have Moira back in the game, guys! I look forward to throwing her at everyone. :D
Entry tags:
Permissions!
OOC PREFERENCES: Permissions for OOC game activity.
CONTACT METHODS: Twitter and e-mail are the best ways to reach me right away. I can also be found on AIM for anyone who wants to plot/chat/hang out!
THREADJACKING: Top-levels are totally open for this but I'd prefer a head's up if you want to jump into a private post/thread.
SLOWTAGGING/BACKTAGGING: Totally fine with me!
NSFW: Yes!
AVOIDED SUBJECTS: Non-con and self-injury are the big ones for me. I'd also appreciate a head's up if there are going to be mentions of suicide/suicidal intentions.
PREFERRED GENDER PRONOUN: She/Her/Hers.
( Read more... )
DATE LAST UPDATED: 22 April 2015
CONTACT METHODS: Twitter and e-mail are the best ways to reach me right away. I can also be found on AIM for anyone who wants to plot/chat/hang out!
THREADJACKING: Top-levels are totally open for this but I'd prefer a head's up if you want to jump into a private post/thread.
SLOWTAGGING/BACKTAGGING: Totally fine with me!
NSFW: Yes!
AVOIDED SUBJECTS: Non-con and self-injury are the big ones for me. I'd also appreciate a head's up if there are going to be mentions of suicide/suicidal intentions.
PREFERRED GENDER PRONOUN: She/Her/Hers.
( Read more... )
DATE LAST UPDATED: 22 April 2015
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In a kingdom by the sea. {For James}
When James asks her to get away with him for the weekend, Moira readily accepts, needing distance between herself and all of the recent turmoil within Siren Cove for her. Unlike when she last took off, Moira makes sure to inform all of her family members personally that she'll be away for the weekend, also making sure to inform Riley as well; she stays only long enough to tell them this, along with leaving a phone number where they can reach her should they actually feel the desire to speak with her. Somehow, Moira thinks her cellphone won't be ringing off the hook for the next couple of days.
Now, she's standing with James, clinging to his arm, at a cute little hotel in another seaside town, this time, Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Like Siren Cove, it bustles with its own sense of life and adventure, people hurrying to and fro between various shops as they chatter with their friends about decidedly non-magical monsters attacking their town or the evil witches in charge of said monsters. When Moira smiles, she feels her whole face relax.
"This is absolutely wonderful," she says, letting the sea salt air soak into her skin as she breathes, already feeling some of her tensions ease into the distance. "What should we do first?"
Now, she's standing with James, clinging to his arm, at a cute little hotel in another seaside town, this time, Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Like Siren Cove, it bustles with its own sense of life and adventure, people hurrying to and fro between various shops as they chatter with their friends about decidedly non-magical monsters attacking their town or the evil witches in charge of said monsters. When Moira smiles, she feels her whole face relax.
"This is absolutely wonderful," she says, letting the sea salt air soak into her skin as she breathes, already feeling some of her tensions ease into the distance. "What should we do first?"
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.
Entry tags:
At the rec center. {For James}
Moira doesn't plan on actually going to the Thornton rec center; yet here she stands, in the main lobby, glancing at various pamphelts in her hand. A customer at Coombs & Co. happened to have one of these flyers in her hands, advertising a nutritional pregnancy course, and Moira, having a moment of, oh fuck, this baby is actually happening, noted the information for later. She's still trying to keep her pregnancy a secret; she doesn't need James' father, or, God forbid, her damn mother, finding out. She's in her second trimester now, apparently, and she has to actually deal with the stress in her life.
But she's not thinking about that now. She's thinking about how she woke up from her post-work nap knowing, with absolute certainty, that she was carrying a girl. She'd scryed after, just to make sure, and in a rare instance of her magic actually working right in recent days, the water confirmed her earlier vision. She doesn't know if James would want to know or not; she doesn't know how to tell him, really.
She doesn't know where things stand with James, and it's a thought that frightens her just as much as the baby herself does. She's not prepared for motherhood; she's not prepared for much of anything these days.
So she stands in the lobby of the Thornton rec center, wringing her hands as she tries to read the information about the classes while simultaneously also hoping she blends into the walls.
But she's not thinking about that now. She's thinking about how she woke up from her post-work nap knowing, with absolute certainty, that she was carrying a girl. She'd scryed after, just to make sure, and in a rare instance of her magic actually working right in recent days, the water confirmed her earlier vision. She doesn't know if James would want to know or not; she doesn't know how to tell him, really.
She doesn't know where things stand with James, and it's a thought that frightens her just as much as the baby herself does. She's not prepared for motherhood; she's not prepared for much of anything these days.
So she stands in the lobby of the Thornton rec center, wringing her hands as she tries to read the information about the classes while simultaneously also hoping she blends into the walls.
Been tearing my seams. {Open}
In the wake of the Crabs attacking the beach (and Moira still can't believe that's not a euphemism), especially during the End of Summer Bash, has left the place a complete wreck and covered in trash. And considering how just about everyone in her life is, rightfully, admittedly, pissed off at her, Moira is out in the sun, doing her part to help clean up the debris. She's both utilizing actual trash bags and using magic to get the job done, making sure to leave everything thoroughly looked over and tended to. It hurts, to see the beach in such a shape. But not as much as her own life hurts currently.
She figures, if no one wants to talk to her except to yell at her, the best thing she can do is to be of use, if not to her family, than at least to the town. She's been up since dawn, throwing up violently, even with the new tinctures and potions she's been trying; she'd made her way to the beach then, throwing herself into helping with the volunteer efforts. She's going to find a way to make things right, she tells herself. She has to. And so far, she's been keeping at her work, undisturbed by anyone.
She'd stupidly forgotten to cast a glamour on herself, to avoid the obnoxious press.
She regrets it the moment the woman steps forward and shoves the microphone in her face.
"Moira Coombs! What do you have to say for the fact that you look like the spitting image of your ancestor? Planning on cursing any other towns soon? Is it true you disappeared in conjunction with your mother to help her leave the country?" The reporter's voice rings out like nails on a chalkboard.
Moira pales, wondering how her unfortunate discovery about Viviana could be found out so soon; she internally curses when she realizes how foolish she'd been to come out without a disguise.
She wishes she could say something in reply; she wishes she could tell the buzzard to go fuck right off into the ocean.
But all she can do is wince, before turning and running in shame.
OOC: If your character hasn't gotten a chance to tell Moira how much of an idiot she's been, here's your chance! But she can also really use a friend right now. And, of course, people she doesn't know are always welcome too. Catch her running from the paparazzi who's just discovered that Moira is the spitting image of Viviana Coombs.
She figures, if no one wants to talk to her except to yell at her, the best thing she can do is to be of use, if not to her family, than at least to the town. She's been up since dawn, throwing up violently, even with the new tinctures and potions she's been trying; she'd made her way to the beach then, throwing herself into helping with the volunteer efforts. She's going to find a way to make things right, she tells herself. She has to. And so far, she's been keeping at her work, undisturbed by anyone.
She'd stupidly forgotten to cast a glamour on herself, to avoid the obnoxious press.
She regrets it the moment the woman steps forward and shoves the microphone in her face.
"Moira Coombs! What do you have to say for the fact that you look like the spitting image of your ancestor? Planning on cursing any other towns soon? Is it true you disappeared in conjunction with your mother to help her leave the country?" The reporter's voice rings out like nails on a chalkboard.
Moira pales, wondering how her unfortunate discovery about Viviana could be found out so soon; she internally curses when she realizes how foolish she'd been to come out without a disguise.
She wishes she could say something in reply; she wishes she could tell the buzzard to go fuck right off into the ocean.
But all she can do is wince, before turning and running in shame.
OOC: If your character hasn't gotten a chance to tell Moira how much of an idiot she's been, here's your chance! But she can also really use a friend right now. And, of course, people she doesn't know are always welcome too. Catch her running from the paparazzi who's just discovered that Moira is the spitting image of Viviana Coombs.
Entry tags:
The love you take is equal to the love you make. {For James}
After her research at the library leaves her with nothing but more questions, Moira finally works up the nerve to make her way over to James' place. She heads to her cottage first to shower, quickly throwing on less ragged clothing before tying her hair up and all but bolting out of the door. She knows she should bring something as a peace offering, but every idea her mind comes up with sounds terrible, so she settles on just herself.
She casts a glamour on herself to avoid the media storm currently overrunning the town, quickly maneuvering between the crowds to make her way to James' place.
Before she realizes it, she's at his door, hand poised to knock. Fuck, what does she even say? An apology barely covers it. She sighs. She'll have to figure it out on her own. She knocks, and waits.
She casts a glamour on herself to avoid the media storm currently overrunning the town, quickly maneuvering between the crowds to make her way to James' place.
Before she realizes it, she's at his door, hand poised to knock. Fuck, what does she even say? An apology barely covers it. She sighs. She'll have to figure it out on her own. She knocks, and waits.
Let the storm rage on. {Open}
The bus is an old, weathered piece of shit, one that really shouldn't be functioning still. Moira winces at the creaking noise every sharp corner pulls from the vehicle and the way the driver barely seems able to stay on the road. She keeps fidgeting in her seat and playing with her newly darkened hair, fingers curling around the piece of paper she clutches close to her chest. The island did her good in many ways: it healed the shock of the cruise, helped ease the burden of all the stress in her life, and helped her come to terms with being pregnant, with the exception of the morning sickness that still rules over Moira.
Yet, just two mornings ago, a woman named Blair, one of the elders of the island, brought her to one of the hidden springs, deep in the heart of the island. They'd done their breathing exercises and a couple of renewal spells, as had become their normal routine during Moira's time on the island. But then Blair had offered to scry with her, just a brief glimpse to check in on Siren Cove. Moira hadn't realized how much she'd missed home until then; fueled by a desire to see James, her sisters, and her cousins, she'd readily agreed.
Scrying with water had always been a bitch.
She never thought she'd catch a glimpse of her ancestor, one Viviana Coombs; but catch a glimpse of her, she did, and now, she's on a bus home, clutching the sketch Blair drew for her in her hands and trying to remember the breathing exercises from the island. But she can't stop thinking about it. Viviana Coombs could be her twin. Viviana Coombs, the one rumored to have started the curse in the first place. Moira can't tell if the nausea she feels is from the morning sickness or the shock running through her veins. And she has to keep it under control, for the baby's sake. The baby who, as the witches on the island had confirmed, would inherit some of the Coombs' powers as half a witch.
The bus finally screeches to a stop at the bus station in the center of town. Moira has to keep from leaping over the heads of everyone to get out. She misses her loved ones dearly, indeed, she realizes she owes them all an explanation, at the very least, but she needs to get to the library. Even as she can hear Blair telling her that the vision they'd seen was very much real, Moira wants to find evidence to the contrary, that she does not resemble her ancestor who might have caused the curse.
She keeps fidgeting as she makes her way through the line, her hands smoothing down the front of her loose blouse, disguising the small yet distinguishable bump of her stomach. She hopes no one with a discerning eye catches sight of her today.
She pulls her hood up over her head before exiting the bus, determined to avoid the inevitable mess of press that might await her. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Moira sets off at a sprint, maneuvering between people as she tries not to shove them out of the way. She needs to get to the library, needs to find evidence to reassure herself that she isn't the living image of a woman who once cursed an entire town.
OOC: Moira's back! Find her anywhere in town as she tries to make her way to the library. She'll be in a hurry, but obviously will stop for anyone who calls out to her. She's freaked out, but not nearly as badly as on the island. She's trying to cope with the fact that she looks so much like Viviana Coombs, so any friends will be greatly appreciated! Oh, and those with a discerning eye will recognize the slight bump on her now.
Yet, just two mornings ago, a woman named Blair, one of the elders of the island, brought her to one of the hidden springs, deep in the heart of the island. They'd done their breathing exercises and a couple of renewal spells, as had become their normal routine during Moira's time on the island. But then Blair had offered to scry with her, just a brief glimpse to check in on Siren Cove. Moira hadn't realized how much she'd missed home until then; fueled by a desire to see James, her sisters, and her cousins, she'd readily agreed.
Scrying with water had always been a bitch.
She never thought she'd catch a glimpse of her ancestor, one Viviana Coombs; but catch a glimpse of her, she did, and now, she's on a bus home, clutching the sketch Blair drew for her in her hands and trying to remember the breathing exercises from the island. But she can't stop thinking about it. Viviana Coombs could be her twin. Viviana Coombs, the one rumored to have started the curse in the first place. Moira can't tell if the nausea she feels is from the morning sickness or the shock running through her veins. And she has to keep it under control, for the baby's sake. The baby who, as the witches on the island had confirmed, would inherit some of the Coombs' powers as half a witch.
The bus finally screeches to a stop at the bus station in the center of town. Moira has to keep from leaping over the heads of everyone to get out. She misses her loved ones dearly, indeed, she realizes she owes them all an explanation, at the very least, but she needs to get to the library. Even as she can hear Blair telling her that the vision they'd seen was very much real, Moira wants to find evidence to the contrary, that she does not resemble her ancestor who might have caused the curse.
She keeps fidgeting as she makes her way through the line, her hands smoothing down the front of her loose blouse, disguising the small yet distinguishable bump of her stomach. She hopes no one with a discerning eye catches sight of her today.
She pulls her hood up over her head before exiting the bus, determined to avoid the inevitable mess of press that might await her. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Moira sets off at a sprint, maneuvering between people as she tries not to shove them out of the way. She needs to get to the library, needs to find evidence to reassure herself that she isn't the living image of a woman who once cursed an entire town.
OOC: Moira's back! Find her anywhere in town as she tries to make her way to the library. She'll be in a hurry, but obviously will stop for anyone who calls out to her. She's freaked out, but not nearly as badly as on the island. She's trying to cope with the fact that she looks so much like Viviana Coombs, so any friends will be greatly appreciated! Oh, and those with a discerning eye will recognize the slight bump on her now.
Plotting: Moira's Return!
SO. Moira is going to be returning to Siren Cove soon, probably this upcoming weekend! She's been away at a hidden, witches' island off the coast of Scotland trying to heal/relax in the aftermath of the cruise, along with her pregnancy. Spoilers: her morning sickness really sucks.
When she returns, she'll be somewhat back to her old-self - more tired, but more emotionally stable than before, and ready to be back home. While on the island, Moira decided to magic her hair a darker color as one of the changes to help her feel better, so I'm updating her icons accordingly. Naturally, she's still a blonde, but she's now a darker blonde. I'll be updating her icons accordingly. (This is basically just my own Haven feelings/personal preference coming through. XD)
When Moira returns, she's going to have a major revelation: she is almost the spitting image of one Viviana Coombs, the witch rumored to be behind the entire curse to begin with. Moira is going to be horrified and that is going to influence how she reacts to her own mother being evil and the rest of it. If anyone one else wants to get involved with this, let me know here! I think it's going to be fun to play through. :D
When she returns, she'll be somewhat back to her old-self - more tired, but more emotionally stable than before, and ready to be back home. While on the island, Moira decided to magic her hair a darker color as one of the changes to help her feel better, so I'm updating her icons accordingly. Naturally, she's still a blonde, but she's now a darker blonde. I'll be updating her icons accordingly. (This is basically just my own Haven feelings/personal preference coming through. XD)
When Moira returns, she's going to have a major revelation: she is almost the spitting image of one Viviana Coombs, the witch rumored to be behind the entire curse to begin with. Moira is going to be horrified and that is going to influence how she reacts to her own mother being evil and the rest of it. If anyone one else wants to get involved with this, let me know here! I think it's going to be fun to play through. :D
Entry tags:
Visiting Abroad. (One-shot)
Moira realizes it isn't the smartest thing to do, leaving town when you had a mother who was wanted for questioning by the police. But she can't stay in Siren Cove, not with Clint cracking down on magic and the paparazzi swarming herself and everyone she loves. So, with a trembling hand, she writes out a note, before casting a spell to send it to everyone important to her and those who need to know.
Dear all,
I realize this is probably the poorest timing for me taking over, but such is life, as they say. If you're reading this, it means I trust you immensely, enough to not fuck me over. I'm not in a good place right now, and I need to be by the sea, to clear my head. There's a place, off the coast of Scotland. It's a...refuge of sorts, for witches. I'm heading there. If you need to contact me, I'll have my cellphone. I'm sorry this is so abrupt, but I can't stay here. I just can't.
Best,
Moira
That done, she whispers the spell, her whole body pale and trembling, and she disappears into the late afternoon.
OOC: Moira's on hiatus! I need to get my head around her before resuming her again. No worries; she'll be back! I'm just not sure when.
Dear all,
I realize this is probably the poorest timing for me taking over, but such is life, as they say. If you're reading this, it means I trust you immensely, enough to not fuck me over. I'm not in a good place right now, and I need to be by the sea, to clear my head. There's a place, off the coast of Scotland. It's a...refuge of sorts, for witches. I'm heading there. If you need to contact me, I'll have my cellphone. I'm sorry this is so abrupt, but I can't stay here. I just can't.
Best,
Moira
That done, she whispers the spell, her whole body pale and trembling, and she disappears into the late afternoon.
OOC: Moira's on hiatus! I need to get my head around her before resuming her again. No worries; she'll be back! I'm just not sure when.
Back from hiatus!
Okay, I'm back from hiatus, though I still might be in and out. I'm going to wait until after work tonight to get caught up on tags, but yeah. I am back now. With one exception: June is going to be in a Sleeping Beauty-esque enchantment while I figure out an arc for her. I'll post the one shot in her journal once I've posted this. Basically, she flirted with the wrong witch, prompting him to curse her drink and now she's in a "sleeplike death" until I decide to wake her up.
Hiatus.
Just a head's up that I'm taking a hiatus from Siren Cove for the time being. It might not be long, it might be a day, hell, but I need a break and I just wanted to give everyone a head's up. Thanks for your patience! I'll still be on twitter if anyone has any questions.
A careless beast was bleating that the air behind was breathing. {Open}
As soon as she listens to Amelie's voice mail message, Moira feels guilt and anger wash over her. Of course, Fabrice was bound to realize the truth of everything, everything he knew before the attack and the cause of said attack to begin with. She knows, currently, he's still holed up in that hotel Amelie brought him to, shutting himself away from the world and trying to come to terms with what happened. Moira's visited to make sure he's eating, and to put extra spells and wards around his room; she also managed to sneak in his cats to him, which at least brought a smile to his face. She hurts, still, seeing her cousin like that, cocooned in blankets and with a face whiter than the moon.
It fuels her now, as she pulls various books and ingredients from her cabinets and bookshelves. She has everything set up on her coffee table, parchments and instructions, as well as the wand she barely uses anymore. She is not hesitating to pull out all the stops; she wants Violet to hurt, as much as she can cause hurt to a mother who also happens to be one of the most powerful witches in town.
"Fuck," she mutters, clenching her trembling fists by her sides. She has to keep herself from rushing things; honestly, she could set fire to her mother and feel no remorse, as her emotions currently stand. Her stomach churns, with morning sickness, she suspects, and she winces, hating that she has to balance her pregnancy with everything else going on right now. She sets her face in a stern line and resumes her work.
OOC: Find Moira at home, working on...rather intense magic as she plots to strike back at her mother. She probably needs someone to talk her out of doing anything stupid.
It fuels her now, as she pulls various books and ingredients from her cabinets and bookshelves. She has everything set up on her coffee table, parchments and instructions, as well as the wand she barely uses anymore. She is not hesitating to pull out all the stops; she wants Violet to hurt, as much as she can cause hurt to a mother who also happens to be one of the most powerful witches in town.
"Fuck," she mutters, clenching her trembling fists by her sides. She has to keep herself from rushing things; honestly, she could set fire to her mother and feel no remorse, as her emotions currently stand. Her stomach churns, with morning sickness, she suspects, and she winces, hating that she has to balance her pregnancy with everything else going on right now. She sets her face in a stern line and resumes her work.
OOC: Find Moira at home, working on...rather intense magic as she plots to strike back at her mother. She probably needs someone to talk her out of doing anything stupid.