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About Moira

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  1. Moira

    [PP-F4] Bitter Reawakenings

    Moira looked across the table with heavily lidded eyes. She studied him for a moment, awaiting a punchline that never came. It appeared that his question was genuine, or at least, he intended for it to be taken as such. So she simply pursed her lips. "Of course I like money," she answered. "Doesn't everyone?" The waitress plopped another massive coffee down, though this one was housed in a Styrofoam cup rather than priceless porcelain. Moira paid it, nor the waitress, any mind. Instead, she held the other man's gaze, more intrigued by his question than she'd like to admit. "In fact," she continued, "I don't think I'd trust anyone who said she didn't like money. She's either lying, or not the kind of person I'd want to fraternize with anyway." Those amethyst eyes held a kind of mystery that Moira couldn't remember seeing within Aincrad before. Are these the sort of people I could have been interacting with all these years? she mused, with no small amount of regret. Instead, she had holed herself up on the beginner floors. What wasted time.
  2. Brad was still babbling like a brook, but Moira's attention was solely reserved for Zackariah. He nodded. "I'll explain it all when you get back." "You'd better, pal," the white-haired woman shot back, wagging a finger at him. "If I find out that you're just using us for free labor, I'll be seriously pissed off." As if a switch had been flipped, Brad stopped mid-word, and swung to face Moira. "Hey," he whined, "that's not a good word. My mom says you shouldn't say stuff like that." She grit her teeth, and her attempted smile was more like a grimace. He's a kid, she reminded herself. Be nice. "So are we gonna work together, like a team?" Brad's newest question startled her. "Uh," she answered dumbly. "I don't think that's a good idea." "B'why not?" The boy's big, baby-blue eyes gazed up at her with such childish confusion that she nearly choked. "We both have to find the stuff, right? And two eyes would be better than one!" She refrained from correcting his eye comment, and merely heaved a massive sigh. He's a kid. You can do one nice thing for a kid. "Fine. Okay. Whatever."
  3. "Your advice has to do with how to make money here in Aincrad." Now that caught Moira's attention. If she'd been a dog, her ears would have perked up. As it was, she was suddenly hanging on the man's every word. His eyes twinkled, as if he already knew just which of Moira's buttons to push. "The first thing you need to do is to gather materials. Travel into the woods, and find me the following items." From the pocket of his tunic, he withdrew a crumpled paper. How many people have received this same list? Moira found herself wondering as she accepted it. "Collect them, and bring them back here. After that, I'll show you what to do with them." "And how to sell them for profit?" Moira asked with the sharp, matter-of-fact efficiency of a businesswoman. But her question was answered only by one of Brad's. "We get to sell stuff?" he asked eagerly. "Like a lemonade stand? I had a lemonade stand once. My mom made up a bunch of the stuff, and we set up a little table on the sidewalk, and sold lemonade in little cups for like a quarter each. And we made SO much money, see, because it was so hot out, and-"
  4. "What is it?" the boy demanded excitedly. "Well," the shopkeep began, "I'm afraid I can't give it to you until I know both your names." Now, the child was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I'm Brad." When the NPC said nothing, waiting expectantly, Brad turned to face Moira. "Tell him who you are!" The woman drew in a small breath, exhaled, and answered, "Moira."At this, the old man's smile quirked into something more like a smirk. He finds this amusing, Moira thought to herself, mixed parts annoyed and baffled. "Brad and Moira," he echoed. "That's just wonderful. My name is Zackariah." The sandy-haired boy simply beamed. "Nice to meet you, Zackariah!" "And so polite, too!" Zackariah chuckled, shaking his head. "Now, are you ready for your advice?" Brad said nothing, but nodded so violently that Moira feared his head would fly off. In fact, she had a very unusual visual of it toppling off his tiny frame and rolling right out the door. It was the sound of Zackariah's sage voice that drew her back to reality.
  5. He gave a knowing smile, and answered, "Whatever kind you need." Moira's lips pursed as she studied the man behind the counter. He was a NPC, a fact made clear by a close investigation, but he was behaving incredibly strangely. "I'm good," she stated tersely, deciding this whole situation was a waste of her time. "But thanks." "I'd like some advice!" The third party to enter the conversation was a young boy, surely no older than twelve or thirteen. This, Moira knew, was a fellow player. If his tell-tale beginner garb didn't give it away, the bright smile plastered across his face did. So young, she mused. How terrible to be trapped in a place like this at such a ripe age. The bearded NPC grinned down at the boy, reminiscent of a department-store Santa Claus. "Well, you're in luck, because I have some advice for you both." He cast a quick glance at Moira, and though he was a NPC, she could somehow pick up on his meaning. It's a kid. Don't ruin it for the kid.
  6. "Can I help you with something?" Moira glanced up from the shelf of bottles she had been studying. Each one was uniquely colored, some squaty, some long and slender. The liquids inside appeared distinct as well, though Moira did not know enough to be sure. The sunlight that filtered through the many windows glimmered off the fragile objects, giving them a sort of magical quality. It was a shame she was dirt poor. "No," she answered easily, "but thank you. I'm just browsing." "Can I give you some advice, then?" Now Moira truly gave the man her attention, blinking owlishly at him, before answering, "I beg your pardon?" He was tall and willowy, with a mane and beard of silver-grey. Eyes of brilliant green were mere slits beneath bushy eyebrows, but they sparkled with unspoken humor as he regarded her. "I was curious if you might like some advice." The woman's gaze narrowed with suspicion. "What kind of advice?"
  7. Moira

    [PP-F4] Bitter Reawakenings

    When he commented on feeling better, Moira was slightly taken aback. "Oh," she replied dumbly, blinking owlishly at him. She hadn't actively tried to make him feel better, and yet, here she was doing it. The woman had never been one for pep-talks, which meant that this was an incredibly unusual experience. It took her a moment to compose herself, when she cut a thin smile across her face and added, with more finesse, "I am very glad to hear that." Already slightly off-balance, his comment about getting a coffee for the road confused her. Moira's gaze dropped to her cup, which she realized was now nearly empty. She leaned forward, downed the mug, and placed it back on the table with a sharp clink. "Hey," she answered easily, "if you're buying, I'll happily take another." She stared down at the few drops of dark liquid collected in the bottom of the container, and sighed. She had no idea how long it would be until she had another. "This'll be my last one for a while," she mused aloud, giving her thoughts a voice. "I imagine you never have to worry about that, Mister Moneybags."
  8. Moira

    [PP-F4] Bitter Reawakenings

    Moira shifted on her plush chair, draping one arm over the back, and crossing one thin leg over the other. It was a position of such casual, elegant ease that it simply oozed calm. Of course, under the surface, she was far from it. Was she really speaking with the top chef in the game? No wonder he was willing to shell out major col for a cup o' joe - he probably had cash coming out his ears. Besides, if he was really as high level as he claimed, he was important in his own right. That was certainly worth digging deeper into. The woman gave her companion a smile, shaking her shaggy silver hair back from her face. "Aincrad's own MasterChef," she drawled. "I wouldn't have pegged you for it, but I suppose that's how things go sometimes." He looked more like some runway model than a chef, with his long, lanky frame, snow-white hair, and lilac eyes. But looks were deceiving, especially in this death game. "Sorry to hear it's been bugging you," she added, and she actually was. She knew how it felt to be weighed down by something, but she was also skilled in shedding the BS and moving on with her life. Perhaps it was time he do the same. "But if you were able to start a business like this, odds are it'll run without help. Just restructure it again. You'll be fine."
  9. Moira

    [PP-F4] Bitter Reawakenings

    It was impossible to hide the flash of surprise when Sey mentioned business. To mask it, Moira took another indulgent swig from her mug while the man continued to speak. Then, slowly, she lowered the coffee back to the table. It made a soft clink as porcelain met glass, but she hardly noticed. Her blue-grey eyes, not unlike the snowy sky out the window, searched his face for a silent moment. Then, she gave a soft hum of interest. He really was fascinating. "Business?" she asked, drumming perfectly manicured nails on the mug as she held his gaze. The corners of her pale pink lips turned up in a knowing smile. "I had no idea you were a businessman. Now that's something we can discuss over coffee." There was excitement in her eyes now, with a hint of danger stirred in. "It must be quite exciting work," she continued, her voice steady, her gaze level, "to have death threats and executions involved." There was something silky in the way she spoke, like fingertips sliding over silk, when she added, "It's such a shame about your business partner."
  10. Moira

    [PP-F4] Bitter Reawakenings

    He was playing along. As they waited for their drink, Moira cut the man a quick glance, feeling a sudden flare of admiration. Given his response to bowling her over, she had expected him to bulk at her demand for coffee. If not then, her impressive order should have been enough to scare him off. Yet here he stood, matching her order, and calling her bluff. Well now, she thought to herself, smirking a bit as she turned away. Isn't that unexpected. When a pair of massive mugs were placed in front of them, Moira snatched hers up with the finesse of an alcoholic grabbing a fifth. She didn't even bother to thank the waitress before cupping the porcelain, lifting it to her lips, and sipping. This time, she did loose a little moan as the hot liquid blossomed through her system. She was thanking every god and deity she could think of as she enjoyed the real thing. Real coffee. Nothing cheap, or fake, or watered down. She wasn't sure she had enjoyed something of this quality even before Aincrad. She peaked over the rim of her cup at the man, to see how he was enjoying his drink. Surprisingly, he wasn't. Instead, he sat with his face in his hands, his mug still steaming, untouched, at his elbow. Buyers remorse? Had he spent more than he had on two coffees? Curiosity, and a pin-prick of pity, caused her to violate her precious none-of-my-business rule. "What's wrong with you?"
  11. Moira

    [PP-F4] Bitter Reawakenings

    Moira took a moment to summon her menu, hardly hearing the twinkle of bells over the chatter of the crowd. With a few practiced motions, she flung her salvageable items into her inventory, saving her the trouble of carting the dirty bags around. When she dismissed the HUD, she blew out a long breath, watching it hover like white smoke on her lips. In truth, she had no preference where they had their coffee. Moira had so little col to her name that she'd been existing off the cheap stuff for far too long. Now that she had dedicated herself to venturing out more, maybe she'd be able to afford the real stuff. Until then, however, she'd make the absolute most of this chump's kindness. "Hmm," she mused aloud, pursing her lips as she scanned the nearest storefronts. She selected the one that looked the most posh, the most expensive, and stalked toward it. He'd keep up, she figured, if he'd stay true to his word. Tugging open the door, a blast of warm air hit her with the force of a freight train. Moira had to bite her lip to keep from moaning, relishing in the heat of the upscale coffee shop. "Thank god," she crooned softly. There were few people in the shop, perhaps due to the high prices outlined on the fancy scroll-work menus. That was fine with Moira. Practically salivating at the thought, she selected the most expensive cup they had, and ordered the largest size.
  12. Moira

    [PP-F4] Bitter Reawakenings

    Moira grit her teeth, partially in anger, and partially to keep them from clattering. Her pants were grime-covered, and she wiped at them once before deeming it a lost cause. As the other player wasn't making any move to do so, she finally turned and began to collect her belongings. Food she wouldn't eat again, as much of it had been trampled by passersby. Stained fabric, tattered scarves. "Just peachy," she growled under her breath, before sucking on her teeth in a gesture of annoyance. His apology seemed genuine enough, as did his offer to make it up to her. But considering the fool did nothing to help her clean up, she doubted his true sincerity. "Sure," she finally answered flatly, "you can make it up to me. Buy me a coffee." The request came to her out of nowhere, and hearing the words surprised even herself. But her head was beginning to pound, and she was frozen - a cup of liquid heaven seemed like a good choice. She'd be willing to put up with his company if it meant free coffee.
  13. Moira

    [PP-F4] Bitter Reawakenings

    The fourth floor was one of the most popular in Aincrad. Be it the snow, or the festive Christmas feel, players seemed to flock to the winter wonderland like flies to manure. Moira just didn't see the appeal. The air was too cold, and her chest burned as she drew deep breaths. Goosebumps raced up and down her skin, as it was covered only by a simple long-sleeved shirt and black trousers. So many other players milled about as if they couldn't feel the chill, while she fought to hide her tremble. Hell, in Sword Art Online, it was entirely possible that some skill kept the bite at bay. She had no idea, meaning she didn't have such skill, meaning she was really effing cold. But as so many people preferred the fourth floor, many of her favorite shops were established there as well. Moira was forced to venture this way every few months for a bit of shopping, and her arms were filled with bags, as she strode purposefully toward the transport. The bags went flying as a hard body rammed into her. Moira swore viciously, rounding on the other player instead of stooping to collect her spilled purchases. "I sure hope you're blind, pal," she snarled, eyes flashing dangerously, "as that's the only excuse you've got for running into me."
  14. Moira

    [PP - F1] The Field of Beginnings

    "Right," she answered, and was unable to stop the smirk from forming. There was a sort of gleam in her blue-gray eyes as she rounded on her foe. As it was a level one boar, 'enraged' did not actually mean a whole lot. But at one HP, it moved with the sporadic jerkiness of a robot on the verge of destruction. Whether or not the boar would take her out with it was the question. The creature moved with a swiftness she had not anticipated, stubby legs propelling its squat form far too quickly. It closed the distance between them in only ten speedy strides, and in a moment of weakness, Moira fell back on the game's mechanics to help her out. Of course, her skills were severely lacking. Where she expected sharp reflexes and a cat-like agility, she found herself taking one quick stutter-step backward instead. It wasn't enough. The boar plowed into her, tusk gashing across her midsection before she could ready her spear. Even with the game's adjusted setting, the pain that bloomed was explosive and startling. It had been literal years since Moira had experienced pain of any sort, preferring to play it safe within the town limits. The sensation first appalled, then annoyed her. Even as the boar was galloping away, Moira lifted her weapon, and heaved it toward the creature's rump. The sharp bounced pitifully off the thick skin. Straightening, Moira paused to wipe at her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she sighed, and stated, "I suppose this is the part where I make the obligatory joke about skewering the pork." She said it with such nonchalance, gaze still watching the crazed beast as it turned for another pass.
  15. Moira

    LFG "Lessons" questline.

    Total noob here, but still available.