Post by Moira ap Eiluned on Aug 4, 2015 17:25:23 GMT -8
Moira sank down onto the edge of her bed, rubbing the bridge of her nose half in embarrassment, half to relieve the faint headache coming on. She could not believe she’d just done that. It wasn’t appropriate at all, flirting with someone she’d just met. Not like that, anyway. Maybe it was that darned brogue, or the mane of hair the color of flame, or –
See, now, more inappropriate thoughts. And it wasn’t like the fae courts weren’t full of overwhelmingly handsome Sidhe; compared to them he was plain. But he was smart, and accomplished in magic, and energetic and –
And there she went again. Bah. She was ashamed of herself. Getting distracted by someone she’d just met, and didn’t know at all. She didn’t need a fling; it demeaned her and what she had with Hans. She wanted…well, something she wasn’t likely to get again. That had been a fluke, an unlikely friendship that evolved into something far more, without either of them noticing, until one shocking event brought it to the fore. He’d been so frightened to take that first step, to awed by her beauty to touch her, he who was so fearless in every other way, and who had always treated her as a boon friend. And in the face of that combination of worship and partnership she had been utterly helpless.
And now. Bah. Flirting like the rawest Wilder, with a mage of all things. Pitiful. Tacky. Embarrassing. She’d just met him, hardly knew him…no, honestly, didn’t know him at all. Could be a trap. Could be. Not likely, though. Seattle really did breed paranoia, didn’t it? Hermetic Adept, House Flambeau. Order without excessive Banality, generally composed of Dynamic and Questing avatars, the least secretive of the Hermetics. Not really trap material, no. And an Adept – think of all the insight he must have into the nature of magic, the conversations you could have, someone to really talk with; a mind that burned brightly, with new ideas and insights to share, and share with. Plus, the accent.
Forget the accent. Moira rubbed both her hands across her face, massaging her temples and brow just under her circlet. She still shouldn’t have done it. She had face to maintain, and old love to honor, and she really didn’t want to upset an Adept of House Flambeau by crossing a line she didn’t know was there. Another Sidhe, a nice safe game of Courtly Love, rules all laid out by thousands of years of tradition? Maybe, maybe with the right person. Maybe.
And there was the core of it. She didn’t want to flirt because that meant she was attracted. She didn’t want to be attracted because that meant she risked falling in love. And if she fell in love… Hans had not willingly betrayed her love, and she would not willingly betray his – even if all that was left of it was a memory. And to give herself away to any love less than what she shared with him would be to cheapen what they had, to devalue it. Courtly Love, was, in a way, utterly outside the bounds of the sort of love she had shared with Hans. It did not…impinge…on that memory.
A political marriage would work, too.
Why did his familiar have to be a dragon? Seriously? It made her want to talk with him about Zirnitra, about finding Her, saving Her, about everything She represents and embodies. He might even have some ideas about how to spread her worship, strengthen her further. Such a mind-
Okay, now this was getting downright humiliating.
Enough. She was starting to get that itchy trigger finger, that need to do something to get out of her own head. Maybe she’d grab Elaine and head out to find something to kill. Not the “fun” sister, indeed! She was sorting through her bullets, making sure she had found all the silver ones, when the idea struck.
Ha, that was the solution! She would introduce Galen to “the fun sister”. If her twin (and she was still not sure she was okay with that) were involved with Galan, then she wouldn’t think inappropriate thoughts about him. And better that it happen now than later; Galen would meet her eventually, if they kept in contact, and Moira was sadly sure that he would choose her twin over her in any case. She had all Moira’s best parts, plus an aggressive mindset that would probably mesh better with a Flambeau in the long run. Yes, that was probably the thing to do.
A wave of weariness, of loneliness, of wistfulness washed over Moira, inevitable as the tide. She was wrong. She didn’t want to go killing things after all. She wanted to go sit on the clockwork bench in the park, and look at how the work was coming, and remember, and forget.
See, now, more inappropriate thoughts. And it wasn’t like the fae courts weren’t full of overwhelmingly handsome Sidhe; compared to them he was plain. But he was smart, and accomplished in magic, and energetic and –
And there she went again. Bah. She was ashamed of herself. Getting distracted by someone she’d just met, and didn’t know at all. She didn’t need a fling; it demeaned her and what she had with Hans. She wanted…well, something she wasn’t likely to get again. That had been a fluke, an unlikely friendship that evolved into something far more, without either of them noticing, until one shocking event brought it to the fore. He’d been so frightened to take that first step, to awed by her beauty to touch her, he who was so fearless in every other way, and who had always treated her as a boon friend. And in the face of that combination of worship and partnership she had been utterly helpless.
And now. Bah. Flirting like the rawest Wilder, with a mage of all things. Pitiful. Tacky. Embarrassing. She’d just met him, hardly knew him…no, honestly, didn’t know him at all. Could be a trap. Could be. Not likely, though. Seattle really did breed paranoia, didn’t it? Hermetic Adept, House Flambeau. Order without excessive Banality, generally composed of Dynamic and Questing avatars, the least secretive of the Hermetics. Not really trap material, no. And an Adept – think of all the insight he must have into the nature of magic, the conversations you could have, someone to really talk with; a mind that burned brightly, with new ideas and insights to share, and share with. Plus, the accent.
Forget the accent. Moira rubbed both her hands across her face, massaging her temples and brow just under her circlet. She still shouldn’t have done it. She had face to maintain, and old love to honor, and she really didn’t want to upset an Adept of House Flambeau by crossing a line she didn’t know was there. Another Sidhe, a nice safe game of Courtly Love, rules all laid out by thousands of years of tradition? Maybe, maybe with the right person. Maybe.
And there was the core of it. She didn’t want to flirt because that meant she was attracted. She didn’t want to be attracted because that meant she risked falling in love. And if she fell in love… Hans had not willingly betrayed her love, and she would not willingly betray his – even if all that was left of it was a memory. And to give herself away to any love less than what she shared with him would be to cheapen what they had, to devalue it. Courtly Love, was, in a way, utterly outside the bounds of the sort of love she had shared with Hans. It did not…impinge…on that memory.
A political marriage would work, too.
Why did his familiar have to be a dragon? Seriously? It made her want to talk with him about Zirnitra, about finding Her, saving Her, about everything She represents and embodies. He might even have some ideas about how to spread her worship, strengthen her further. Such a mind-
Okay, now this was getting downright humiliating.
Enough. She was starting to get that itchy trigger finger, that need to do something to get out of her own head. Maybe she’d grab Elaine and head out to find something to kill. Not the “fun” sister, indeed! She was sorting through her bullets, making sure she had found all the silver ones, when the idea struck.
Ha, that was the solution! She would introduce Galen to “the fun sister”. If her twin (and she was still not sure she was okay with that) were involved with Galan, then she wouldn’t think inappropriate thoughts about him. And better that it happen now than later; Galen would meet her eventually, if they kept in contact, and Moira was sadly sure that he would choose her twin over her in any case. She had all Moira’s best parts, plus an aggressive mindset that would probably mesh better with a Flambeau in the long run. Yes, that was probably the thing to do.
A wave of weariness, of loneliness, of wistfulness washed over Moira, inevitable as the tide. She was wrong. She didn’t want to go killing things after all. She wanted to go sit on the clockwork bench in the park, and look at how the work was coming, and remember, and forget.