princess moira of ireland

I have really enjoyed being a part of this roleplay, but I’ve found it really hard to find the time to participate since I went to university. There’s just so much going on, and I don’t think that I can be a member anymore. That being said, thank you guys so much for being so welcoming and I really enjoyed my time here! Below, I wrote a little piece about where Moira ended up (more for my own closure than anything else) but I hope that one day I’ll loop back around to see this roleplay still doing just as great :)

Love, Gemma

“First of all… wow. Rude.” He quipped, rolling his eyes. He awkwardly shifted his weight before running a hand through his hair. It didn’t take long for the car to show up and he was thankful for the music so that the pair didn’t have to talk. When he had a drink in his hand, he knew things could go badly but would try to be on his best behavior.

“Happy to be here as in the club or with you? The answer to both is yes.” He knocked back his drink as if the answer were the most logical in the world. “What about you? Do you hate being here… with me?”

“Well, my presence is delightful, of course you’re happy to be with me,” Moira stated with false arrogance as she sipped her alcohol-heavy beverage instead of throwing it back. She was all too aware of the mistakes that they made together when the circumstances were right. “My life would be far too easy if I hated you,” She said cryptically with a small smile, “Right now, I’m just trying to remember how to dance with you in a platonic fashion... I heard you’re looking for a bride too, hm? Can’t risk climbing into the uber wasted and someone getting a picture.”

“You should get used to that feeling.” Mimi pulled her gloves - Gucci, pearl embellished, and bright fucking red - out of her pocket and slid them on as she continued, “you’re thinking of my grandmother. I don’t dance. Not in these heels.” –And certainly not for some spare Princess with no political or financial clout.

“Is it fine with you?” She mocked, snapping her other glove on and looking to Moira with an arched brow. “May I be dismissed, Your Highness?” Rolling her eyes, she made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.“I don’t need your approval to go,” she leaned in closer, lowered her voice to a hiss, “and I certainly don’t need your approval to come.”

Straightening up, she brushed imaginary dust off of her coat. “You don’t have to like it, Moira,” her tone wasn’t mocking, anymore. Just tired. She’d had this exact conversation with the Austrian Duchess, and the English Lord before her. “You just have to lump it.“ The ‘like your betters have before you’ went unsaid, but implied.

Moira was visibly shaken by the encounter, trying not to strike back out of the fear that she would say something she would regret, but the silence tasted bitter in her mouth. 

“I don’t understand where any of this is coming from, why do you find me so threatening? I’ve said nothing to you beyond stating that I’m not judging you, although now I’ve concluded that you must be incredibly insecure if you feel the need to throw a tantrum every time your boy toy looks at another girl!” 

Her words echoed around the cathedral. Slowly but surely, her words had gone from a conversational tone to a shout as she grew more and more frustrated. She was pale as can be, but her cheeks were a rosy red and her hands were shaking as she picked up her purse. She brushed past Mimi to escape the cathedral, eyes stuck on the floor as she muttered an apology to the poor elderly woman that was setting up for evening mass. The fresh air felt nice, and she slumped against the wall of the cathedral. 

“A couple years is a long time.” She offered up with a laugh. “And you’re missing out on the sharing of clothes. It’s not the same when I steal my brother’s shirts. Then again… sometimes having a sister sucks. Especially when they expect you to be like her or others expect you to be like her and while Rhi is the best… I am my own person.”

“Thank you for your support, just for that you can be one of the few people that are allowed to know my actual age.” Moira declared like it was one a grand gesture. “I usually steal shirts from my boyfriends now, but that’s a real problem when it ends in catastrophe,” She confided in the girl, sighing theatrically. “I guess that’s true. I never had to deal with that because Michael and I are pretty similar, don’t you think you resemble Rhi in a lot of ways?”

It was pretty worrying how long it took him to think of something else they could talk about. He tried to rationalize it to himself; he was just tipsy and thinking too slow, or his head was just set on it since Moira had become so intimately tied to the situation. The explanations were weak at best. 

“We should just go back to kissing,” Vincent laughed weakly, closing the harder liquor and grabbing two of the ciders from the fridge. He had purchased them in fond recollection of when he was younger and Moira used to sneak alcohol out for him and the other, younger heirs. Cider and lighter beers were the most frequented drinks, because while Moira played the role of cool cousin insanely well that didn’t mean she wanted a bunch of teenagers drinking liquor in the palace storeroom. He offered one to her before he finally answered her question; “I still spend a lot of time working on stuff back home, charity events and various political entanglements that carry on even in my absence,” He started first, “I like to work out? Spend a lot of time fucking around with Rhi,” and fucking Mimi, “What do you do all day?”

“You’re the one who pulled away,” Moira said accusingly, her face softening at the sight of the cider. He clearly remembered those times all those years ago, better than she would have anticipated considering the fact that their more innocent spikes of rebellion were followed by his disastrous adolescence. She gratefully took it, getting a little too old to enjoy being blackout drunk. 

“That’s right, everyone thought that you were just doing it to distract from all of those stories about you, and the pictures, of course,” She smirked at the thought; there were loads pictures of the boy doing all sorts of un-royal things, a lot of which were never technically confirmed as him but... anyone who knew anything knew they were him. “But then you kept doing it. I rather like a little bit of philanthropy in my men, intentions are worth considering, though. Are you doing it to clean yourself up? Or to outdo your siblings?”

“Yes, and neither really require marriage or a significant tie to someone else, I suppose. Hugh Grants pulls it off beautifully.”  Natalia wants a crown and Gio needs an heir, for future purposes of course –nowhere near now. It seemed like a fair trade. “In fairytales, no? . .Which is fine to each his own. Maybe you’ll end with a fairytale ending, fireworks and all.” Propping his head in both palms, he knew exactly what Moira was getting at. “No, Dominique would never discuss her endeavors with me just as I wouldn’t with her. I don’t care to hear it either. But we’ve grown up together and I know her well enough to make my own conclusions,” not his girl = not his problem. “What can I say? Can’t make it easy on you.” He tried to be the little brother figure. The type that asks if you have games on your phone.  “Let’s not forget Ash Wednesday,” Catholics around the world solemnly wore their dust crosses with pride. Gio would opt to wash it off half way through the day but it would send an unwanted message to fellow followers and the church. “You’d rather a lie?” He paused dramatically, giving an answer closest to the truth, “Van Gogh. and yours?”  The Italian’s eyes roamed the room searching for the best answer to Moira’s statement. “Cheated, I cheated.” There was no use in calling their break anything but pure indiscretion. The duo is five years apart and dated a while back. Natalia would be a teen and Gio well into adulthood –18 and 23. His focus was extremely different than her’s at the time. “Drop your stylist’s name. I’ll double his bid.” 

“If you’re a woman and you’re second in line, marriage seems like a rather suitable path to take,” Moira countered, all the while thinking about the fact that Giovanni really didn’t need Natalia in the way she needed him. “You’ll know if I ever do. Isn’t Monaco Catholic? Seems like there’s a solution here that would solve both of our problems,” She made her last comment quietly, almost to herself. She gave up on Giovanni’s wine, instead grabbing herself a beer and holding another one up to Gio in an offer. “Oh, yes, of course. Somewhat related to Easter, but I’ll give you partial credit on that little nugget of knowledge you got from Sunday school. You can lie if you want, but I can spot them from a mile away...or I’ll demand Michael tell me the truth later, whichever,” She didn’t actually care enough to run to her big brother for shit on Giovanni, but it did feel like a rather believable idea that may get the man to reveal a little more of the truth. “Interesting choice, have you got an explanation? Because as far as I know, he created beautiful things at the cost of his own joy. Would you believe me if I said Clara Barton?” She poised it like a question, despite the fact that she was telling the truth. “Were you a repeat offender, or a one-off? I suppose it doesn’t matter now, I’m sorry for prying. Half of me says she should run the other way, but the other half..” She trailed off, her inner romantic practically having a cage fight with her inner feminist. “I don’t know if I should thank you for that, or be upset. If you’re pro-corset, you’re welcome to leave because none of that will be happening.”

“I don’t mind them,” Mimi shrugged a bony shoulder under her scarves. She didn’t really like the taste of green juice either. Nobody did, except maybe yoga instructors and panda bears, would ever willingly choose a concoction of parsley fluid and spinach drippings over a BonChon Chicken, but Mimi would never admit to that. –If subsisting on kale water for days at a time was what it took to avoid looking like an overstuffed sausage in a Hervé Léger bandage dress, then so be it. 

“Are they?” she asked, voice a drawl as she sat back up properly in the pew. She crossed one leg over the other - a feat, being six feet tall and squeezed into pews, she knew there was reason she never came to church - and rearranged her skirt about her knees “Where are they hiding?”

Mimi made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “God, how very Princess Di of you.” Although that would make her Camilla Parker-Bowles. Yuck…Even still, Mimi didn’t owe answers to a spare Princess --or anyone, actually. That was the beauty of being an absolute monarch. She quirked an amused eyebrow across at Moira, and when she smiled, it was lipstick-y and wry. “It worked out so well for her.”

“Anyway.” Mimi clapped her hands together, and rose, “must dash. I’m meeting someone. Got to give myself something to speak about, next confessional.”

“I have to say, I’m rather disappointed by our meeting,” Moira stated, trying to shake off the idea that she was playing the part of someone else, of Princess Diana. She had felt like an actress the last few days, trying to go from who she was to who she was supposed to be, but it was disarming that Mimi might have noticed. Still, she continued talking like the woman wasn’t just leaving. “I was expecting at least a dance sequence, or perhaps a soliloquy from you, with the tale of how you ended up here,” She wasn’t even entirely joking; she loved reading, and if this was the climax of the novel she wouldn’t have bothered to read the rest. “If you actually need to go somewhere, fine. But if you’re leaving because you think I’m judging you for having sex with beautiful men, you must have confused me for the minister.”

Michael chuckled, “Yes, princess. Can I get you a new pony as well? Maybe a small group of islands?” He was teasing her and it felt good. “Yes, I suppose we should look at appointing some judges that will be more sympathetic to the cause, make things easier. Or you and I could start funding legal groups that support LGBT causes.” He leaned back, actually, some of that sounded like a good idea, he would have to start looking into it. He watched Moira look at the menu and smiled, discovering that she was distracted. “That’s because Father and I deal with the budget, dear sister. The king signs off on every penny spent.”

“Well, since you offered,” Moira sniffled, thinking of her Connemara pony at home fondly. They were from Ireland, alright, it wasn’t snobby that they had ponies it was practically a given. “You could send me back to our island, that would work. Both of those are great ideas; the latter I already have drafted on my computer, but I’m excited that you’re finally catching up,” She half-joked, a document already existing on her computer that was filled with liberal organizations back home. “I would actually eat anything on this menu, why don’t you choose a couple things? We can feast like the olden days. That’s why I basically spend all the pennies,” She fluttered her eyelashes dramatically; it was nice to be the youngest and the only girl, their father was more than happy to sign off on whatever she wanted.

When Moira appeared once more, Gus had to do everything in his power not to completely ogle her. She’d always looked good, better than him even. When they were together, he often wondered what she saw in him and as things got more serious he just… he just disappeared. Things had seemed to get better between them with time and now that she was engaged, things were far more complicated than ever.

“There’s a club not too far but I think we should uber because I’m lazy.”

“Nothing new there,” Moira replied with a smile, not in any mood to actually fight with the lad and more interested in having a proper night out. It had been ages, and if her marriage actually works out it’ll be ages until she gets another chance to. Calling the uber was simple, and given the time of day it was mere moments before the car showed up. Pretty soon, they had drinks in their hands and an obnoxiously loud club song was ringing in their ears.

“Are you happy to be here, then? Or was this involuntary?” She asked politely, the small talk not quite matching with the affectionate way that she was fixing the collar of his shirt. 

“Oh the concierge absolutely lied. The difference here is it mainly happens on Saturdays and is more of a draw for the 23+ crowd. So go on, change. I’ll wait.”

As soon as Moira recovered from the fact that she was lied to, she grinned from ear to ear. “Ten minutes, tops,” She promised, rushing back upstairs to put on something that was certainly not given to her for any official event. The skin-tight dress had to make up for the fact that she wasn’t putting on her usual night-out makeup, and simply shook her hair out before putting on obnoxious heels to go downstairs.

“Ta-dah,” She greeted Gus, doing a little spin, “Where to? Should we Uber, just to feel youthful?”

Elyse raised an eyebrow, “Me and Vince? Gott no. We just talk politics and social programs. He’s a fan of my work apparently.” She smiled, “Perhaps I could become a fan of your work. I could use the help on creating programs like that. If you start getting texts from a Russian number, it’s me in Kaliningrad.” She stood as well, pointing to the elevators to the spa. “I think that sounds like a perfect idea. I need some serious hydration after changing climates like this.” 

“Oh, that’s proper cute then. I’m not surprised, he is weirdly in the know about philanthropy and policy? It’s like someone forgot to tell him that with a face like that he didn’t even have to learn to read,” Moira replied sardonically, sincerely flattered at the idea of the girl liking her own contributions. “Don’t be silly, you’ll be putting your phone number in my cell while they work on your other hand,” She said, very seriously thinking that their partnership would be mutually beneficial. “Very valid point as well, why don’t they ever consider our dermatological needs?” She asked jokingly, as they got set up in the spa with the fancy fake plants and flawless employees. “Besides work and royal obligations, have you been doing anything else? Or anyone else?”

“You’re going out now? At…” She checked her watch and felt just a tiny bit depressed. “10:30?” It was Friday, of course she was. “God, I can’t believe I was about to get ready for bed. Like a mother of five.”

Moira raised her eyebrows at the girl, trying her best to stifle her laughter. “Bed before midnight is basically the same as giving up,” She declared, sending a glare at the concierge before turning her attention to the other woman with a devious smile. “If I promise to pay for every drink and handle all the weirdos on the dance floor, will you come with me? You hardly want to seem like a mother of five...”

“Maybe that’s what marriage is all about,” Vincent, nevertheless, was flexing to the best of his ability because they weren’t a done deal quite yet. He was far too busy trying to make his arm look the way it did before all of the island nonsense to feel the eyes that were sizing him up, and then he was so busy pouring more alcohol that he didn’t see her approach, only setting down the bottle unsteadily when his eyes flickered over only to see that she was mere inches away from him. His hazy mind thought about the opportunity. She was beautiful, and soon to be his wife. But there was also the thought of Mimi, still lingering in the back of his mind. The two women were complete opposites, from blonde to brunette, tan to fair, improper to polite. It was hard to figure out what he wanted, and 

Vincent figured that was the most direct invitation he was going to receive, and he leaned in slowly to press a soft kiss against her lips. He didn’t attempt to deepen the kiss, or put his hands anywhere they wouldn’t be welcome. Even when he leaned back, he took the hand from his chest and linked their fingers. “You’re so beautiful,” He muttered, laughing breathlessly. “Really, Moira, have you got a debt over your head? Why leave Ireland for a prince that may never become a king?”

It had been a while since Moira had been on any real dates, even longer since she had been on a good date where it ended with a first kiss. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been with anyone, but lately her love life had been more like a highlight reel or a greatest hits album; she reunited with old loves, enjoyed a rekindled fire for the night, and then found that it had faded to embers by the morning. There was a certain charm to it, sure, but that’s all there was; the charm of nostalgia followed by a bitter goodbye as she realized how different they had become. This may not be perfect, but at least it was a roaring fire and the kiss was invigorating.

“Why are you marrying a princess that will never be a queen? It wasn’t like Ireland was opposed to your claim,” Moira retaliated, undeterred but still flattered that his opening line had been a compliment, She could work with that. “Talk to me about something other than the race to be a king or philosophy, those things are practically set in stone at this point. Tell me about what you do all day, your friends, anything else,” She pleaded, sipping her last shot instead of throwing back in the hopes that she would remember everything the next day. 

“Never said I was, Moira. My motives align with most men, let’s be honest.” Most wanted to feel unique but there was nothing wrong with fitting in with the status quo; even if it was a negative one at times. “…to fall in love and live happily ever after, right?” A sinister grin accompanied his words, although, it was somewhat true, life surely wouldn’t allow they boy to be happy in the end. “Fingers crossed, we stay in Ireland next? A lavish dinner sounds great right about now.” A bit intimidated but never willing to admit it, Gio could only hope he’d meet the Irish king under good circumstances such as dinner.  “I think you underestimate the will of your competition.” That’s all he’d say on the matter, who was he to break someones dreams anyways? “You can definitely love more than one person at a time: my mother and sister. Is yours reserved for one person?” It was a roundabout way of avoiding the topic. Naively, Gio believed it wasn’t obvious. “Okay, let’s end it there,” a soft chuckle fell from his lips. There was no need to share private encounters. “The catholic answer is God, no?” It was easy to stray from the light in any case, “ Descenus Facilis Averno Est…finding your way back is hard.” Gio focused on twisting a band around his middle finger, a gift from his father. “Don’t have one, don’t really need one anyways, on my own for now.” The statement sounded as if he didn’t care but little did the other know, Gio truly did. “No arrangement at the moment until my mother realizes…i’m free to make my own choices. Except Natalia and I are trying again…Tell that to a fashion designer, let’s see how it mellows over.”

Moira pursed her lips, trapping her rant about how all men were the same before it could escape. Maybe she was turning into an old maid. “Marrying for sex and power then, hm?” She joked instead, rolling her eyes at his own question. “Happily ever exists, it has to exist somewhere,” She persists, despite how she was becoming wary of the search for it as well. “Competition seems too harsh a word.. but I see that you know a fair bit about the situation considering the fact that you and Vincent are not on speaking terms,” She pointed out, her tone becoming the slightest bit accusatory. Her fiance wasn’t spreading word around the town, which only left Mimi as Giovanni’s source of intel. “It’s always like pulling teeth with you, you know what I meant. Romantically, intrinsically, happily ever after-ly,” She waved her hand at his suggestion; she loved Michael and her parents dearly, that would be a silly idea. “The Catholic answer is Jesus on Christmas and Easter,” She quipped, trying her best to look unimpressed with the Latin, but what could she say? She loved a scholar, that’s why she almost always ended up with the good guy. “Sounds fake,” She stated bluntly; it was likely he had a role model, even if he did not admit it. “Well, don’t let her realize any such thing! Best of luck with that, I always thought you two were fairly well suited for each other but I guess if that was true you two would not have had such a... schism,” She said delicately, having only heard stories about how Giovanni was at fault for their break up. “I haven’t worn a single corset since arriving in Norway, at this point my designer already has a bounty on my head.”

“ godmother and godfather- poor child can have both right ?? “ she often pitied vince, spending his forming years being raised by their father- more like the palace staff. at least natalia had a semblance of a family, even after she was revealed. “ yeah- maybe you should ask him about it, though i’m not sure he’s too fond about talking about it. “ it would be a great way to get him to open up. “ i was a master at proper tea etiquette by the time i was three, steeping and pouring and all. i expect them to have it down when they are two. “ it was an easy task in england. probably difficult in italy. “ i vote to film a live action one starring yourselves. film it now while you guys still ‘young and in love’. “ she said faking a dreamily voice. “ hm, noted. “ she slanted her eyes at moira and smirked, “ personally, i want the virgin rainbow opal- but apparently i’m asking for too much. “ was it too much to ask for a one of a kind stone ? 

“I suppose you’re right, I think they’re supposed to be married but I won’t be officially catholic anymore... I don’t feel so bad about that, considering the fact that it sounds like you’ll become Catholic when I become protestant and that it’ll be a fair trade,” Moira teased, despite the fact that both of them were rather far from actual tying any knots. “If you have any tips, I’d appreciate them because so far my only strategy is alcohol and as effective as it is, I’m not sure it’s a perfect method,” She blushed slightly, thinking about the slippery slope she had already encountered. “Of course, of course, and the Irish are tossing shots at three and a half-- we all have our strengths,” She tried to think of the Italian equivalent, supposing it was probably wine. “I have always loved the idea of love, from when I was a child to even now... maybe that’s why I find the idea of you picking Italy sort of sweet, but the feminist side of me demands that he give up Italy,” She laughed, finding it nice that Natalia and her were finally on common ground. With their age gap, they had never been the closest, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be. “Whenever it’s called the something, it’s usually pretty special. I’d say shoot for the virgin rainbow opal, and that means you’ll probably land somewhere in massive diamond.”

“That’s fair.” She let out a sigh, knowing the other was right. “At some point, I have a couple more years.” Gwen couldn’t help the slight jealousy that tinged her voice whenever she spoke to the other. Moira seemed composed where Gwen was a mess. Then again, they weren’t as close as she knew they probably needed to be. “At least I’m getting a head start with talks like this.”

“Oh, of course, you’re still a baby!” Moira assured the girl quickly, "Unlike me, I’ll be turning thirty in a couple years... that’s practically ancient,” She complained, finishing her drink with one toss backwards. “Surely you’ve had a thousand talks with Rhiannon like this, I’m proper envious. All Michael ever tells me is that it’ll be alright, and that he’ll be there for me, you know, all that really sweet big brother stuff. Why don’t I have a sister to be petty with?”

“It leans lot more towards the first but there’s nightlife everywhere if you look for it well enough. I haven’t but it’s never too late.”

“Are you any good at looking for it? Because I could be ready in ten minutes, and I would love a partner in crime for the night.”