04-01-2024, 02:29 PM
Raised in a large extended family, Moira has always wanted the same thing for herself. Finding sisterhood had been difficult in these quiet times, and having a child - having a daughter - seemed the best way to make that for herself. And she’d been right, finding that the precocial Orieta had required very little of her at all.
@Helion recovers quickly from the revelation that she has a child, but Moira recognized the shock in her friend’s silver eyes as she nods an affirmative response. She opens her mouth to speak, but just as quickly he’s smiling again, and she closes her mouth just to smile back at him in return, unable to help herself.
Whatever had surprised him about the revelation he has mastered, and Moira is too busy turning toward a splash in the water to immediately probe further. It is only a fish breaking the surface in pursuit of a damselfly, and Moira turns back in time to hear him ask about Orieta’s father.
Now it is her turn to be surprised. She’d lost count of the nests she made before the one into which she’d tucked Orieta’s egg. That egg, iridescent white and glowing bright from the first moment, had only one possible father. Moira had not known the black-eyed Baltian well enough to recognize his features in their daughter, and she has made no effort to seek him out in the time since. When Orieta is old enough to ask, she intends to tell her his name, but beyond that he is well-anchored in the sea of her past.
”I imagine he’s still living in Baltia,” Her tone is casually dismissive, accompanied by a brief shrug of her shoulders. It feels strange to move them without feeling the flutter of fins at her sides, and Moira glances back at her bare sides and the long strands of her tail for a moment, the silky hairs equal parts blue-violet and shimmering gold.
When she looks back at Helion, the glowing cause of her transformation, she remembers the shock from earlier, and that she’d been about to say something.
“No kids for you, then?” She asks, curious and direct. ”What about lovers? Anyone I need to meet and impress?” Moira’s tone remains light, yet as the words leave her mouth she knows they are dishonest. She doesn’t want to impress Helion’s lovers. She doesn’t want to think about them at all. Doing so now brings an oddly bitter sensation to the back of her throat, an unfamiliar astringency that she does not care to dwell on for a moment longer.
A change of subject then: ”How is your sister? Your parents?”
@Helion recovers quickly from the revelation that she has a child, but Moira recognized the shock in her friend’s silver eyes as she nods an affirmative response. She opens her mouth to speak, but just as quickly he’s smiling again, and she closes her mouth just to smile back at him in return, unable to help herself.
Whatever had surprised him about the revelation he has mastered, and Moira is too busy turning toward a splash in the water to immediately probe further. It is only a fish breaking the surface in pursuit of a damselfly, and Moira turns back in time to hear him ask about Orieta’s father.
Now it is her turn to be surprised. She’d lost count of the nests she made before the one into which she’d tucked Orieta’s egg. That egg, iridescent white and glowing bright from the first moment, had only one possible father. Moira had not known the black-eyed Baltian well enough to recognize his features in their daughter, and she has made no effort to seek him out in the time since. When Orieta is old enough to ask, she intends to tell her his name, but beyond that he is well-anchored in the sea of her past.
”I imagine he’s still living in Baltia,” Her tone is casually dismissive, accompanied by a brief shrug of her shoulders. It feels strange to move them without feeling the flutter of fins at her sides, and Moira glances back at her bare sides and the long strands of her tail for a moment, the silky hairs equal parts blue-violet and shimmering gold.
When she looks back at Helion, the glowing cause of her transformation, she remembers the shock from earlier, and that she’d been about to say something.
“No kids for you, then?” She asks, curious and direct. ”What about lovers? Anyone I need to meet and impress?” Moira’s tone remains light, yet as the words leave her mouth she knows they are dishonest. She doesn’t want to impress Helion’s lovers. She doesn’t want to think about them at all. Doing so now brings an oddly bitter sensation to the back of her throat, an unfamiliar astringency that she does not care to dwell on for a moment longer.
A change of subject then: ”How is your sister? Your parents?”