Moira

File:MoiraAMain.png We don't go for strangers in Hollywood. ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Last Tycoon Background Words will go here soon. RP Hooks Studio Journeyman: When major studios need a writer. Membership Has Its Privileges: Card-carrier for the W.G.A. Hollywood Insider: Born to an old Hollywood family. Giving Back, Never Up or In: Involved with community services. Amazing Listener: Enjoys listening to stories of all types. Contacts * Meika Savage - My goodness, what is there to say. * Clio Fernandez - As one of the so-called "Daughters of Hollywood", those children born into the industry naturally bond with technicolor talent like Clio. * Toby - "I mean... He was gorgeous and there were men and women fawning all over him. What do you want from me, Tiffany? He's a famous hot dude on Clio's arm. Plus it's Skybar, of course everyone was gorgeous." * Ronnie Chaste - Less direct contact and more of a direct reminder for those who understand Hollywood's inner politics: without any visible change to a social calendar, Insiders like Moira move through social circles that can be used through the elaborate system of favors and patronage that is Hollywood deal-making. * Cummings If Candace Bushnell had had talent, wit, and skill. * Todd Randell - Secure, contain, protect. . * Jacen Pearson - Different doctor, different medicine. * Minerva Michaelson - Those who jump to assumptions will find empty space beneath their feet with this one. * Dr. Wolfe - Different doctor, different medicine, same industry headaches. I sympathize. * Sophia Fairbrook - I suddenly and keenly remember every trope I've exploited in my writing over the years. Let's hope this one doesn't go to the movies. Logs No logs found! Gallery File:MoiraA2.pngFile:MoiraA3.png File:MoiraA1.png Vital Stats Full Name: Moira Beyber Appears As: Moira Apparent Age: Thirties Date of Birth: March 3rd, 1990 Demeanor: Benefactor Occupation: Writer Affiliation: None yet. Notable Stats STAT 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴 STAT ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️ Soundtrack Loreena McKennitt ~ Marrakesh Night Market They're gathered in circles The lamps light their faces The crescent moon rocks in the sky The poets of drumming Keep heartbeats suspended The smoke swirls up and then it dies Would you like my mask? Would you like my mirror? Cries the man in the shadowing hood You can look at yourself You can look at each other Or you can look at the face of your god