Post by Moira Andriu on Nov 14, 2008 15:39:25 GMT -5
Moira Andriu
x x
x x
Age:
Mid-twenties
Gender:
Female
Sexuality:
Straight
Nationality:
Irish
Class:
Wealthy
Occupation:
Unemployed
Personal Belongings
She has a sword that she calls Iolar meaning Eagle, which she does know how to use. With her in Egypt is also her mare Danu, a chestnut brown Irish Draught Horse, and last but not least is her Irish Wolfhound Galagar.
A Little Bit Personal
Personality
- Stubborn
- Proud
- Hot tempered
- Perseverant
- Outspoken
- Courageous
- Sarcastic
- Fighter
- Passionate
- Loyal
Likes
- Horses
- Walking near the ocean
- Sword Fighting
- Dogs
- Apples
- Sunrises
- Sunsets
- Cold weather
- Ale
- Whiskey
Dislikes
- Beggars
- Thieves
- The mistreatment of her people
- Rain
- Really hot weather (Haha, Egypt)
- Dates
- Wine
Strengths
- Decent Fighter
- Horseback riding
- Politics
- Physical Strength
- Stubborn
Weaknesses
- Hot tempered
- Fearful of her father and brothers dying
- Fears Spiders and Heights
- Too Proud
- Too Outspoken
- Not use to the ways of Egypt
Let's See How You Write
Gray eyes danced across the barren wasteland that was known as Egypt. There was no green grass here, no cliffs overlooking the bounding sea. There was just sand, sand, and sun. The mare called Danu shifted beneath the woman on top of her, tail swishing at a fly. “Gods help us,” Moira Andriu of Ireland whispered. A gray colored animal that looked different then a pharaoh’s hound glanced up, auburn eyes wondering. The animal was an Irish wolfhound and already Moira had to protect the d**n thing from being a meal. “Shall we go?” She asked dryly. She nudged Danu’s sides, and with her dog Galagar beside them made her way toward the distant palace of Seti.
She remembered her ill fathers words even then, the strong Irish accent implanted in her brain. Be a good lass when you go there Moira. We have things they want, and they have things we need. She had nodded as the dutiful woman she was when she was around the man. She was there to trade, trade what people would ask, and she would tell them as simply as she could the wool from their sheep. Probably the best wool there was, and then there were other things of course, but it was up to the pharaoh. If her two brothers had not been at war this would’ve been there job.
Moira heaved a sigh; she would’ve killed to be in their place. Fighting for their country, for what was right. She was a lady though; if Ireland had courts as other places had she would have been a lady of the court. She dreamed of being a warrior, she was tired of being what others wanted her to be. She didn’t know what they expected her to be. Was she to follow in her dead mothers footsteps, be barefoot and pregnant at home as women should.
Numb. That was the best word. She wanted to be herself, less like others. It felt like a pillow was being held to her face, like she was being suffocated. She was just caught it in it all. Caught like a hare in a trap. Galagar woofed softly as they neared the city. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid,” the Irishwoman ordered. She felt so out of place with her blond hair, fair skin, and tunic with leggings. It was the best riding outfit she had, yet she felt as if every pair of dark eyes was on her.
It was a bad idea; it was such a bad idea to go this far from home. She touched the hilt of her sword for comfort. “Gods help me,” she whispered as she dismounted in front of the palace. There would be translation issues, she could feel it now. Probably a lot of senseless hand motions. She already tested it out at home, mistakes; it was all that was brought up by her extended family. It was about her, and her mistakes.
Gray eyes danced across the barren wasteland that was known as Egypt. There was no green grass here, no cliffs overlooking the bounding sea. There was just sand, sand, and sun. The mare called Danu shifted beneath the woman on top of her, tail swishing at a fly. “Gods help us,” Moira Andriu of Ireland whispered. A gray colored animal that looked different then a pharaoh’s hound glanced up, auburn eyes wondering. The animal was an Irish wolfhound and already Moira had to protect the d**n thing from being a meal. “Shall we go?” She asked dryly. She nudged Danu’s sides, and with her dog Galagar beside them made her way toward the distant palace of Seti.
She remembered her ill fathers words even then, the strong Irish accent implanted in her brain. Be a good lass when you go there Moira. We have things they want, and they have things we need. She had nodded as the dutiful woman she was when she was around the man. She was there to trade, trade what people would ask, and she would tell them as simply as she could the wool from their sheep. Probably the best wool there was, and then there were other things of course, but it was up to the pharaoh. If her two brothers had not been at war this would’ve been there job.
Moira heaved a sigh; she would’ve killed to be in their place. Fighting for their country, for what was right. She was a lady though; if Ireland had courts as other places had she would have been a lady of the court. She dreamed of being a warrior, she was tired of being what others wanted her to be. She didn’t know what they expected her to be. Was she to follow in her dead mothers footsteps, be barefoot and pregnant at home as women should.
Numb. That was the best word. She wanted to be herself, less like others. It felt like a pillow was being held to her face, like she was being suffocated. She was just caught it in it all. Caught like a hare in a trap. Galagar woofed softly as they neared the city. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid,” the Irishwoman ordered. She felt so out of place with her blond hair, fair skin, and tunic with leggings. It was the best riding outfit she had, yet she felt as if every pair of dark eyes was on her.
It was a bad idea; it was such a bad idea to go this far from home. She touched the hilt of her sword for comfort. “Gods help me,” she whispered as she dismounted in front of the palace. There would be translation issues, she could feel it now. Probably a lot of senseless hand motions. She already tested it out at home, mistakes; it was all that was brought up by her extended family. It was about her, and her mistakes.