Civilian Form
Name: Adala Moira Ostrander (a.k.a. Moira Oster)

Adala = noble one
Moira = bitter sea [Pronounced "moy-rah." The first syllable rhymes with "koi," like the fish. It is not pronounced like the name of a certain Tolkienien mine.]
Ostrander = The lord of the east shore, from oste, east, strand, the shore, and heer, lord or master; he that must have his due of a stranded ship.

This is Moira's REAL name, which she does not give out, since she broke ties with her family a while back. Her parents had this entirely embarrasing naming scheme for their seven daughters, wherein every one of them had a first name that starts with A. Naturally, Moira hates the name Adala with a passion, and she does not wish to be associated with the Ostranders, so it's Moira Oster to you. Sounds like oyster, and is probably derived from the Gothic word Ostan, meaning "the direction of the rising sun."

Kingdom: Seventh Kingdom

Age: 23

Birthdate: 2 Seed Moon, 100

Occupation: Full-time witch. Not necessarily a green witch, but something like it. Not quite a sea witch anymore, either, since that life was left behind. Moira became accepted as the local green witch by her little village less than a year ago, and has since become a valuable asset to them, being too small and remote for the nearest doctor to see to their ailments regularly. She is also liked by them because she accepts just about any form of payment, from eggs to old shawls. In fact, she much prefers these material goods over actual money, as the entire dry land monetary system confounds and agitates her. Moira has been known to hold up a handful of coins to vendors and say, "which ones do you want?"

Moira specializes in medicines and healing, and she is combined doctor and pharmacist in one, with the occasional charm for growing potatoes and keeping the fishing boats safe. Note that she is not, in any way, a nurse, midwife, or surgeon, which is to say that she has no intent of holding vomit buckets, delivering babies, or cutting people open. But, she can recommend a treatment for all three. It also goes without saying that she knows how to bind a wound, and can stitch it up if it's not too huge.

Likes:
Unwanted critters - Moira is a crazy cat lady, except without the cats. She has a knack for finding and helping small injured animals, which sounds sweet and altruistic until you see just what kinds of things she actually brings into her shack. We're talking snakes, salamanders, hermit crabs, bats, seagulls, rats, and all sorts of things that you would probably think twice about letting inhabit your living space. Nothing at all against adorable furry animals, but she appears to have a homing beacon for all things ugly and creepy. If she had the capacity, this would go for the aquatic brand of animal too, but as the best water vessals she has are an old washtub and a decrepit rowboat sitting outside, she's not too well-equipped to handle them. Still, she does often take in little fish and sea snails and keep them in jars and old wine bottles. Oddly, not one animal in her home has a name, as she is of the philosophy that naming something suggests ownership of it, and she very much intends for her creatures to be temporary guests, rather than pets.

Hats - Hats are good to Moira. They shade her face from THE DREADED SUN which burns her eyes with burning. Plus, she can hide under them, much as shady people often hide behind a Mysterious Cloak. She's not too picky about style, just like with her clothes, but she highly prefers anything that is large enough that it appears to be consuming her head, because wide brims are all the better to shade her face with. Of course, she is not exactly incognito with these on, as it is very difficult to miss the giant feathered fruit bowl walking around, but *she* feels better about it. Given her waifish appearance, she sort of looks like a mushroom with a very large cap walking around. Give Moira a hat for her services. Doesn't matter what it is. She'll probably accept it as payment enough.

Dislikes:
Body odor - Not that anybody particularly enjoys the sweet smell of someone's underarm after they have not bathed in the past decade or so, but personal perfume is one thing that Moira just cannot get used to. Mermaids live in a state of constantly being cleansed of such filth, and so the entire concept is both foreign and nasty to her, because humans are FILTHY THINGS. Moira herself bathes obsessively EVERY DAY if she can help it, which is about as freakish as one can get in a society where once a month is slightly excessive.

Bright sunlight - It HURTS. It stings her eyes, burns her skin, and makes her sweat lots. Moira is accustomed to living deep underwater, where only the faintest hint of sun filters through, and so her eyes are not at all used to a lot of sharp light. She avoids sunlight like the plague, but when forced into that detestable daylight, she wears dark tinted spectacles to hide her eyes, often with a big silly hat with a wide brim to shade her face.

Land food - This would be what Moira calls everything that humans and elves eat, and the list of strange land food practices that she's pretty baffled by include anything cooked, involving red meat, spicy, or sugary. She'll eat it, if she must, but as her lifelong diet was made up of various raw fish, shellfish, and seaweed, none of these are high on her meal list. Living by the sea, she has regular access to very fresh sea life which she can eat perfectly nicely raw (and likely without proper table manners), but of course inland this is not an option. The only kinds of human food that she's been truly smitten by are bread (particularly the soft, fresh stuff) and fruit.

Feet - They're ugly little nobs on the end of ugly little stumps with weird finger-things on the ends. They're something like a horrible deformity in Moira's eyes. But more to the point, Moira's own feet are the bane of her existance. The problem is this: they're sensitive little buggers. A slightly rough-grained carpet could send spikes of pain shooting through them. She can cut herself on sand. They've been known to bleed just from a walk to the market down the street. Generally speaking, they don't like being feet. However, use them she must, and fortunately Moira is no hothouse flower when it comes to physical pain. She grits her teeth and silently endures it while she gets the job done, even if it means standing before her work table, chopping and measuring herbs, all through the night. She is not putting on a show for anyone: to her, the pain is a mere nuisance which she refuses to be cowed by. She is not entirely masochistic, luckily, as she has a variety of herbs that she takes daily to numb the pain, and she soaks them in herbed saltwater every night, hastening the healing time so that the cuts never scar. In all her time as a human, they have yet to become infected.

Hobbies:
Dancing - Whut, you say? Isn't that death to her feet? Yes, it absolutely is. Moira is not entirely masochistic, but there's some definite shades of it in her. By "dancing," of course, we're not talking about that slow, carefully structured courtley dancing. Since inhabiting her shack, she has taken company with the villagers and fishermen by the pier, and their version of dancing is hot, loud, fast, and drunken. There is a fiddle, or an accordion, or maybe just a drum and a pipe and a lot of clapping hands. It's a party atmosphere, and Moira throws herself unabashedly and almost hysterically into it, regardless of the pain, or--much more horrifyingly--the sweat that results. It's an almost violent form of catharsis--when she dances, all she can feel is the music and the pain and the press of people around her. She does not have to think, or to feel, anything beyond that. Moira has a bit of a reputation in these kinds of gatherings, for her strange, hypnotic way of dancing that can last hours at a time. Afterwards, she stumbles home in a daze to soak her sticky body and aching feet.

Scavenging and hoarding - Like a MOUSE. Moira's what some would call a beach comber. And a sea comber, and a field comber, and a behind-the-barn comber... Part of her job entails having a lot of remedies that can only be found in particular locations at particular times of the year, so naturally she is on a constant hunt to replenish her stock. In addition to these, she has the practical view that anything can be put to good use with a little imagination, and so anything from driftwood to old bottles to animal teeth is eagerly gathered up by Moira and stuffed into her little shack. Her vast collections of things include Things In Jars, Boxes of Trinkets, Stuff Hanging To Dry, and Stuff She Can Put Things In. Her shack is a strange and claustrophobic museum. Watch out for the animal skulls hanging from the ceiling.

Friends and Family:
King Arawn Ostrander (father) - Known by the elves as the Sea King, Arawn rules a very large portion of the northern Atlantic, from the upper coast of the 9 Kingdoms all the way to the heathen lands in the west, and up into the icy waters of the far north. Sea territories are vast, given the nomadic nature of mer folk, as they follow the seasonal currents from one underwater castle to another throughout the year. He and Moira were decidedly not on speaking terms for a good long while, not since he sort of banished her from the family, and considering the state that she sent his favorite daughter home in, it is unlikely that they will ever break their silence.

Queen Anchoret Ostrander (mother, deceased) - Things haven't been too happy since Mom died. Moira was the eldest of her sisters, and so she remembers her mother most clearly, and also feels her loss the most.

Adelina Ostrander (littlest sister) - It's a pretty typical sisterhood with all the typical sisterly spats. You know, Adelina murdered Moira's husband, Moira cut out Adelina's tongue. They love each other deep down. Really.

Ten billion other sisters (actually, just five): Awena, Azura, Allegra, Aqua, and Agata - Moira doesn't have any easier time keeping them all straight than you would. Each girl was born exactly a year and a day after her older sister

Prince Damyan (husband, deceased)

Mrs. Ragnell - A nice elven lady who owns the land on which Moira's shack is situated. The shack actually belonged to Mrs. Ragnell's old uncle, and when he passed away it went unused for years. When Moira came into town, looking lost and shellshocked like a refugee, Mrs. Ragnell put her up for the night. Her husband was suffering from a chronic ailment, and the closest doctor was too far away to see him regularly, and so when Moira, as payment for her hospitality, was able to provide the much-needed treatment, Mrs. Ragnell could not have been more grateful. Her offering up the shack for free of course came loaded with the desire for this young witch to stay in their village. She often checks up on Moira, just to bring her meals and make sure that she's adjusting alright, strange girl that she is. Moira is grateful to Mrs. Ragnell, and she demonstrates it by regularly checking up on her family, but that is about as far as Moira opens herself up to them. Despite being the closest thing to friends that she has, the Ragnells know very little about who she is or where she came from.

Puffin - Like all of Moira's adopted creatures, Puffin has no name. He is simply the Puffin. Puffin was found by Moira with a broken wing when she was at the shrine, and promptly nursed back to health. He will forever be lame, however, and Moira has gladly carted him around as her favored companion. He has become particularly special to her now, because Puffin was there when she was with her prince, and he was there when her prince was taken from her. He tends to follow her around very closely, like a duckling following its mother, and when she soaks her feet at night he settles into her lap to be stroked like a cat.

History:
- Born the eldest daughter to the king and queen
- Spends much of her childhood swimming off and playing near the dangerous whirlpools.
- Mother becomes very ill when Moira is 15, the year that she becomes an adult.
- In desperation, Moira seeks out a cure. She delves into witchcraft, a practice that her father is firmly against because witches are outside the social order. They are seen as having been possessed by unholy spirits, and are therefore banished to the dark fringes of society. This is very dangerous for a mer, because her family is her protection from the dangers of the open sea.
- Mother dies. Moira, in opposition to her father, attempts a resurrection spell. Of course, it does not work, but she is caught in the act of this extremely serious crime.
- Moira's father banishes her from the family because she refuses to accept a lesser penalty in exchange for her giving up magic. Proclaims that his eldest is dead.
- Goes to live among the whirlpools, makes friends with the strangling weeds, which act as her protection, and the sea serpants, which act as guard dogs, and lives in safety by herself.
- Out gathering medicines one day when she gets caught in a fishing net. Amused with their catch, the fishermen bring her back to port to show their buddies, where they all gather around to gaze upon and taunt the mermaid. She is saved by the elven prince Damyan, who requests that she come visit him in exchange for his kindness.
- Their feelings for each other grow over a number of years, until Moira decides to turn herself human in order to marry him. She performs the spell, sacrificing an index finger for it.
- Elven engagements last 3 years, and so she goes to live at a shrine near the castle during this time.
- Adelina, meanwhile, also meets Damyan when she saves him from drowning one night. She obsesses over how handsome he is, even though they have never spoken.
- Adelina approaches Moira to make her human too. Not knowing that she is after Damyan, she reluctantly agrees. Adelina doesn't want to sacrifice any part of her body that would diminish her beauty, and so asks Moira to take her tongue.
- The engagement plays out, and Adelina tries to win Damyan's affection, with no luck. He treats her like a little sister.
- The night of Moira and Damyan's wedding, Adelina cries to her father about the ordeal. He gives her a knife and tells her that another, bigger sacrifice is needed to restore her original form.
- Late in the night, Adelina comes to the couple's bedside while they are asleep, and slashes Damyan's throat. She is immediately turned into a mermaid while Moira holds her dying lover in horror.
- Moira takes the knife and slashes at her sister's hair, then cuts her arm and drinks her blood. She promises that she will use these pieces of her sister to kill her if she ever sees any of her family near her again.
- Damyan's murder is blamed on the now-vanished Adelina. Now a widow, Moira leaves the castle promptly after the funeral, taking only what she can carry.
- She wanders aimlessly, accepting very little help, until she meets Mrs. Ragnell. Eager to have a witch of her talents in the village, Mrs. Ragnell gives her a place to stay.
- Currently lives by herself in the shack, hoarding and administering treatments and being the local crazynut who everybody whispers about.

Personality:
Upon first impression, Moira may strike some as a complete and utter moonbat. She scowls at her potions and mutters darkly to herself and obsessively gathers and hoards things in her crowded little shack. In truth, though, Moira is not nearly as unstable as she seems, and one need only hold a few conversations with her to determine that. Though solitary, she is not against people, exactly--it is simply that they have a very bad habit of making a mess of her life, and so she would really rather keep them out of it. Her speech and mannerisms, as a result, seem rather disengaged from the people around her. She has a tendency to speak to nearby objects rather than the person she is actually addressing, although even when looking directly at a listener she appears to be thinking of something else. However, although her people skills are rusty, she is courteous in her own, lukewarm way, and also sharply aware of what is going on. Her distant manner really only goes skin-deep, and if you asked her to relay the entire conversation over again, she could do so in a heartbeat.

This extends into her job, as well. As a witch who specializes in medicines, Moira's bedside manner is anything but warm. She shows a kind of cold concern for her patients, and actually goes to great lengths for them, traveling miles to their homes in the middle of the night or scourging the fields for the proper herbs. She is focused on her task, but is not especially comforting on the way. If they wanted coddling, they would get a mother. If they want healing, however, Moira is their lady, because she will work herself to the bone doing so.

Moira is a strange dichotomy of wisdom and ignorance. She can, off the top of her head, produce hundreds of rituals, spells, and medicines to cure any ailment. She can name a rich variety of sea life that no human has ever seen, and even many varieties of land life that most humans care not to notice. She can theorize about magic, and about human nature, and about land life. She is quick on her feet, and a good learner. On the other hand, however, she does not know who Cinderella was, or where wool comes from, or that you should not stand behind a horse. And she may never learn some of these things, because they are beyond her scope of what information is important to know. Moira judges knowledge based on what is actually useful to her, and if it is not deemed as such, it tends to flow right on by her. This almost manifests itself into an attitude of being above such useless information, as she has more important things to concern herself with.

Moira feels that she has run the gamut of traumatic life changes, and so very little really shakes her emotionally anymore. You could tell her that you are pregnant with her child, and she will probably nod solemnly and recommend a few cures for morning sickness. She seems almost eerily untouched by much of anything, but consider that this is a person who will happily stand around on bleeding feet just because she thinks that she should. This makes her seem rather devoid of emotion, but really, she just does not show much of it anymore. True, she is not easily angered or upset, and getting her to crack a smile is a bit of a challenge, but Moira does feel just as much as the next person. She feels, however, a constant need to bottle things up inside, and to hide her pain from the rest of the world. She closes herself off almost out of habit, revealing nothing and letting nothing touch her. And then it all comes out on the nights that she dances herself into exhaustion.

Of course, part of the reason that Moira gets away with acting like this is because nobody ever challenges her on it. Her own village is too frightened to show disrespect, because she might possibly put a hex on them. Besides, it adds to her mystery. If put on the spot, however, she would have a difficult time answering for her behavior, because going into the real reasons means admitting to the things in her past that made her this way.

* Strengths - Intelligent, focused, serious, hard working
* Flaws - Cold, distant, a wee bit crazy,

Appearance:
Moira's face is framed by a strong, defined jawline, angling down to a softly cleft chin. Her slightly almond-shaped eyes are bristled with thin, dark lashes around brownish hazel irises. You could say that Moira's eyes are gated: it would be easy to wax poetic about the mermaid with the eyes as deep as oceans, but this would be a false metaphor, because Moira's eyes are impenetrable fortresses. Very little of her true emotions shine through them, and as such, it appears that there is very little that she takes in. When she looks at a person, it is difficult to tell whether her mind is drifting elsewhere, or whether she is looking with a condescending distance from above. They are not the depths of the ocean at all, but the cold mirrored surface of the water that is impossible to see beyond. This is even more apparent when you consider that she cannot cry. In place of tears, the facade can drop on very rare occasions, revealing the bitter pain beneath. These are the only times that her eyes are truly expressive, and so it seems that they have only two modes: impassive and bitterly sad. She has a moderately broad nose and full, pouting lips which never actually pout deliberately.

Her ink-black hair is cropped quite short in such a messy way that it looks as though it had been chopped up with a dull piece of glass by Moira herself while she was blindfolded. One would be correct on one count, anyway: she cuts her own hair. And it is doubtful that she uses a mirror while doing so. Even more unusual than her hair are the strange markings that cover her nutmeg-colored skin. On her face, down her arms, down her chest and abdomen, and down her back, is a pattern of small dots tattooed into her skin. On her face, this appears as a row of dots down the bridge of her nose and a cluster of three dots on her right cheek. On her chest, they line her collar bone from shoulder to shoulder, before plunging down the back of each arm to the middle of her forearm. There is a space before they start again at her wrist and trail straight down her middle finger, with a ring of dots around each wrist, and around the middle knuckle of each finger. The gap on her arms seem odd in human form, but as mermaid, that gap is filled by a fin. From the center of her collar bone, another line of dots plunges down to her bellybutton, and a circle of them wraps around the top of her breasts and around to cross her shoulder blades. In the back, another line of them trails down her spine from the nape of her neck to her tailbone. The use of all these marks among sea witches is to maximize the flow of power through their body and direct the flow of energy currents. Supposedly, this really only works underwater, so now Moira's tattoos are mostly decorative.

Once one sees past the tattoos, they may notice that Moira is quite tall, standing at 5'9", and her frame is characterized by very little flesh stretched over a seemingly oversized bone structure. Her shoulders are somewhat broad, as are her hips, and her limbs seem to be made up mostly of joints. She is generally a bit sharp and bony, a bit gangly, and looks a little bit like she's been stretched out lengthwise. Her movements are very thoughtful and deliberate--almost self-conscious. She carries herself slow and straight-backed, always looking as though she has a place to be and something to do, but is in no huge rush to get there.

Her clothing is a mottled combination of old and tattered dresses, often yellowed with age and unwanted by their former owners. She accepts these as gifts from any who come to seek charms and spells, and as she never wore clothes as a mermaid, does not care at all about their condition or fashionability. Actually, Moira quite dislikes this practice of covering oneself at all time, especially one's upper body, and she often works in her shack without anything at all covering her bosom. Basically, knock before entering. When leaving the cave-like darkness of her shack, she always has a giant hat on.

Guardian Form
Guardian Name: Sailor Neptune

Elements: Ocean, Foam, Song

Fable: The Little Mermaid

Raiment: I am using Ingrid's sexy design. Colors are aqua and pale sand.

Relic: Dagger This is definitely no ordinary dagger. Obviously carved from a narwhal tusk, the dagger is about a little over a foot in length, including the hilt. The spiraling ridges have been deeply emphasized, so that it resembles an auger shell--simply a long, twisting shape that eventually reaches a razor-sharp point. As it is all carved from a single piece, a raised ridge acts as a guard, and the hilt is a smoothly curved shape that is comfortable to handle.