12 January 2023
I have a thing I do, where I interview my characters. This isn't unique to me, by any stretch. But I tend to make the interview itself more of a narrative format; seeing how my characters react to me or to weird, non-canonical situations can tell me a lot about them. And I like to hear their impressions of other people, too.
That said, it turns out the last bit, about Arylwen's father, is complete BS. I don't know if it's something that did happen in a different part of Moira's life, pieces of several events, or completely off the cuff, but it's definitely not about Arylwen's dad.
I take a minute to center myself before I invite Moira over. Where are we? Somewhere suitable to her. After a moment, I open my eyes and see that I’m in an open-air beachfront cafe, though other than the man behind the counter there is no one around.
Not long after I decide I’m ready, Moira walks in, wearing a collared vest and black pants. I gesture to the seat across from me and she takes it, lounging comfortably, with her feet on the arm rest of another of the many empty chairs.
I lean back and study her for a moment. “So, Moira.” I cock my head. “Just Moira?”
“For now.” She flashes me an impish grin, then signals the bartender. He brings over a tall, orange drink with a fancy straw. I assume it’s alcoholic.
I review my notes. “Well, first off, what do you think of the boys? Where I’m at, they’re just joining your crew.”
“Ah, yes.” She smiles, a toothy thing that dimples her cheeks, and sets her drink on the table. “Charles is fascinating. There is a light to him, and an honesty, that is precious difficult to find in men.” She ponders for a moment, then adds, “Or women, for that matter.”
She grows more somber. “As for Elliott… There’s a darkness to him I didn’t recognize at first. I hope it doesn’t consume him.”
I carefully maintain a neutral expression, making her chuckle. “No spoilers on that one, eh?”
With a smile, I say, “Not yet, at least.” I kinda want to pursue the bit with Elliott, but that’s not the priority today. “So, why a pirate?”
“Hmm?”
“Well, you’re a dragon. You could have gone anywhere, done anything. Singer, artist, baker. So why did you choose to become a pirate?”
“Call it a whim.” Her eyes got a far off look, and she chuckled to herself. “I happened to run into Jasper one day, and he intrigued me.”
I nodded and made a note, then paused. “How did that happen, exactly? Did he attack the ship you were on?”
“Got it in one.” She took another swig of her drink. “He wasn’t a captain yet, just a lowly deckhand. I was on my way to some place new, when his crew attacked. Long story short, most everyone else on either of our crews wound up dead. Even once he learned I was a dragon, even once I had him pinned to the deck with my claws at his throat, he still smiled fearlessly. He even had the audacity to invite me to his crew.” She shrugged. “I figured, why not?”
I give Moira a sidelong glance. “You like collecting interesting people, don’t you?”
She just grinned. I asked, “Was this before Arylwen was born? Did you know you were pregnant?”
Moira shrugged. “I knew, but it wasn’t showing yet. She’s spent just about her whole life on those boats.”
I hesitate for a bit. “If I may ask, who was–is–her father? What’s the story there?”
“Ah, that.” Moira’s smile turned sad, and she pulled her feet off the other chair. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“If anyone my side of the screen should, it’s me.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees.
“Well, he was human.” She chuckled. “A surprise, right? I know you wondered if any of the bastards back in the vale were nice enough to catch my ey, but…” She shrugged. “I met him not long after I’d left. I was in a bit of a tight spot, and he offered to help. We slowly got to know each other, and fell in love.”
Moira’s eyes were distant, now. I doubted she even remembered my presence. She continued, “He was always the odd one in his family, which was one of the lesser noble ones in the area. Rather than a warrior, he was a scholar, and loved to research what he could about plants and animals and the like.”
Her face fell. “They came the eve of our wedding. They hadn’t known my true identity, and I was able to fight them off… but I missed a sniper outside, and failed to catch the arrow in time.” Her eyes blazed, and her voice grew cold. “They’d dressed to make it look like a rival family had attacked us, but I knew the scent, the faces of the assassins. His own family believed he’d dishonored them when he chose to be a scholar, and again when he married me. So they decided to remove him from the line of succession.” Her smile grew feral, and she concluded, “Now there aren’t any of them left. Unless you count Arylwen… and I don’t. She’s mine. Not theirs.”