Dubhaine Family/Moira/Roleplays/2008/August

2nd August - Viseu

Moira rolled out of her makeshift bed, yawning as she stretched the knots from her muscles. She wondered that after so many years on campaign her body still craved the comfort of a proper mattress like she'd known in distant Cagil.

"Are you ready for your breakfast ma'am?" her page Iraen was hovering at the sturdy camp table, arranging a platter of cold meats and goat's cheese and heavy black bread.

"What time is it?" Moira stood up, stretching her arms before her with fingers interlaced, sinews like steel cords above her lightly muscled frame.

"Mid-morning ma'am," Iraen fetched her robe and helped her into it. The young page had long since stopped being embarrassed by her mistress's nudity, but it still bothered her that one of the men might come in with an urgent despatch before she was properly dressed.

"Why did you let me sleep in so late girl? I should have been awake at cock-crow," she raised her hand, stifling a further involuntary yawn, "to read the despatches."

"As you were out with the men all night hunting Confederate stragglers I thought it best not to disturb you," she set the platter just so as Moira sat on her camp stool and studied her breakfast.

"Well bring me the mail bag and I'll dictate some letters whilst I eat," her knife carved a large slice from the cheese, impaled it, and propelled it into her mouth with carefree abandon, "I'm famished."

"There's a slight problem with the despatches ma'am," Iraen shrunk back ever so slightly, clearly expecting an explosion of temper as she continued with her news, "Your sister appears to have taken it upon herself to handle it."

"SHE DID WHAT!!!!" Moira was half-way from her seat, her face burning with the kind of rage only a sibling can inspire.

Iraen rapidly retreated, "It seems that when the messenger arrived this morning she met him on the road, and knowing that you were asleep she..."

"She what? She stuck her nose into my business? You'd think after all these years she'd have changed, but oh no, not darling Brigdha. She's as bad as our bloody mother! Why couldn't she stay in Cagil and stick her nose into their business?"

Moira was already half-way through the flap of the pavilion, her robe flapping as she moved allowing momentary glances of her naked legs and firm bosom. She had always been oblivious to her looks and the power they held over men, and now in her rage she didn't even see the dropped jaws and gaping maws of the Oporto Volunteers.

"BRIGHDHA!!!!" a voice trained in the depths of battle echoed across the small encampment and beyond, "BRIGDHA DUBHAINE GET YOUR SORRY RUMP OUT HERE NOW!!!!"