I was born with lightning in my heels.

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.

Moira has been stuck on a particular potion for almost an hour, now. She has all the ingredients cut up and crushed in a bowl; she’s added the water and begun to stir. But she can’t seem to quite get the main incantation that gives said potion, a rather simple cheering charm, or so she thought, its full potency. She’s said the words over a thousand times now, she’s pretty sure. And instead of the usual glow emanating from her hands into the concoction, she’s only seen half-hearted sparks flicker before fading away only a few seconds later.

She groans after her next attempt proves the same, putting the bowl on the counter as she grasps her head in between her hands, pulling at her hair in frustration. She doesn’t understand why her magic is acting up like this; it’s not as if she’s-

The thought hits her with all of the force of a speeding truck. Her face pales and her stomach knots; the world around her appears to stop on its axis, even the pleasant music in the store fading to near silence as she bolts up from her seat, going over that night with James in her head. Fuck, she thinks. Fuck! She hadn’t even thought of birth control spells, she’d been so wrapped up in James and their time together. And they definitely hadn’t waited for something as convenient as a condom. Because they were idiots too caught up in their lust to consider the consequences of their actions. Son of a bitch.

She pulls a violet-colored potion from off of the back stock shelf, her hands shaking as she tries to make a mental note to pay for it later. She tries to calm herself, tries to remember to breathe. It’s only a suspicion, she tells herself, its not written in stone. But she recalls the way she seems to have eaten her weight in food over the past couple of weeks, and the fatigue and general sense of heaviness as she went about her daily life. She cringes as she takes a swig of the potion, drains the bottle dry in one gulp.

And now, she waits, for a moment. It’s a long ass moment, giving her plenty of time to reminisce about that night and how utterly fucked she might potentially be, depending on the result of this magical pregnancy test. She tries to control her breathing, in and out, keeping her spine straight even though she is trembling all over. It’s then that the mist emerges from her fingertips, like stardust, gradually gathering into a cloud.

For a few seconds, the dust remains a myriad of pastel colors. Once it settles, it turns a mint green, which, in turn, steals all the remaining color from Moira’s face.

“Fucking fucker!” She can’t help but yell, her voice no doubt echoing throughout all of Coombs & Co.

OOC: Yes, Moira's knocked up! Because her relationship with James isn't complicated enough as it is! So yes, I will be playing out the nine months of her pregnancy. At the moment, really only witchy folks who happen to be in Coombs & Co. at the time are going to recognize traces of the dust floating around Moira, who is going to try and keep it a secret from the town as long as she can, but knowing how Siren Cove works, that is most likely not going to end well. I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this but my internet's been spotty and I wanted to get it up sooner rather than later.