On the right we have Moira Wainscot, the young adopted sister of Sam and Dean in Brothers Consulted, and on the left we have Adriana, a future character of the stories and a witch to boot!
(( I was tagged in a post by @ghostquack over on deviantart here, but I decided to move it to tumblr since my journal is taken up by the contest I’m running! ))
Rules: Post these rules. Post 8 facts about your character. Tag 8 other characters. Post their names along with their creators’ avatars.
Moira is the adopted sister of Sam and Dean Winchester in the collab I’m doing with @borrowedtimeandspace, Brothers Consulted.
At eighteen years of age, she’s the youngest sibling in the family, so Sam and Dean always look out for her.
She’s 100% British, but her exposure to Sam and Dean for the majority of her life means that her accent occasionally picks up an American lilt.
With two older brothers around to help her get into trouble, she’s more of a tomboy than anything, always ready to go exploring.
After running into a kitten that set off Dean’s allergies (Stricken Sneezes), Moira grew fond of the cat as it aged. She goes back to visit from time to time to give him a treat or two that she found, and gives him scritches. She named him Wheezer for what he managed to do to Dean that first day.
She wears a pin by her side for protection. She won’t fight and kill a rat like Sam or Dean will, but jabbing at its eyes is often enough to deter an attack.
Dean gave her fighting lessons, just like Sam, from an early age to ensure she was able to handle herself.
Her family often insists she wears boots, but she’s a fan of slippers because it makes it easy to walk silently, and her dark hair lets her blend into the shadows.
Moira stood and took a few steps towards the strangers on the table. Her family didn’t entertain guests very often, but she knew how to offer hospitality. And maybe she could help reassure them, considering the way Sherlock and John could loom. Sherlock especially with that focused look in his eyes.
Moira spared him one last glance before opening up her bag, a smaller version of Sam’s. “Is anyone hungry?” she asked in a small voice. “I don’t have much, but my mother made some cakes,” she offered shyly, pulling one out and unwrapping it from the fabric coiled around it.
“Sit still and get better,” Moira snipped at him, quickly making the cup and scooping water into it. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by pushing it.”
“Thanks, mom,” Dean said tartly. “Who’s the oldest here again?”
“That’d be me,” John pointed out, easily drawing attention to himself. He was steadily learning how to control his voice around the smaller folk, especially at close proximity. However, John supposed he couldn’t prevent himself from being an overwhelming presence to them even at his quietest.
With a shrug, John went on. “And as a doctor, I have to agree with Moira. You need rest. And eat up, you’re gonna have to replenish your iron and vitamins to get your strength back.”
Dean gave John a flat glare. “You two,” he griped, pointing first at Moira then at John, “are not supposed to be on the same side!”
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do your parents know you’re here?”
“Mother sent me! She wanted to make sure you two boys were getting along, especially since you haven’t visited in six months, Dean! You can’t make them worry like that.”
Dean sighed. “We meant to come visit, we just got… busy.”
Moira tried to steel her heart. Dean was in trouble, and she needed to get him out of that human’s hands, now. Then once Dean woke up they could escape and find Sam, wherever he was, even if the human had him trapped somewhere else.
“I’m Moira,” she snapped defiantly, the pin wobbling slightly in her grasp. His voice was so huge and booming, like it could overpower hers without any effort. Just another thing to drill his size in, as though she could miss it.
Moira’s lip curled, and she glared up at the human. “You’re that human doctor, aren’tcha?” Her voice dripped with disdain from all the stories she’d heard of others like her and Dean being experimented on, often by these ‘doctors.’ “I won’t let you run tests on our Dean!”
Timeline: Right after moving into 221B Baker Street
“Look out!”
Dean shoved Sam out of the way, his younger brother stumbling backwards from the unexpected danger. Moira yelped, grabbing Sam’s arm to haul him back, leaving Dean to face the threat on his own.
A cat.
Dean didn’t budge an inch, his silver knife in hand as he faced down the cat to give Sam and Moira time to escape. This was supposed to be a quick trip to grab some supplies, stock up Sam and Dean’s new home a few flats away from Moira’s family. They’d only had enough extra food for one meal, and having Moira’s help was welcome.
Of course, no one ever consulted them when getting a new pet, and not knowing that a cat now lived in the flat Moira’s family called home meant that they’d stumbled right into it.
“Mrow?”
It wasn’t quite the hiss of anger Dean had expected to hear before the deadly paw descended on him. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. He squinted his eyes open just as he realized he’d closed them as he prepared for the inevitable.
The cat still sat in the same spot, its tail swishing from side to side. Now that the element of surprise was gone, Dean could see it was only a kitten, nose twitching as it looked over the three tiny people it had cornered. Its head moved closer and Dean stiffened, expecting at any second to feel the crushing fangs close around his chest.
Instead, a wet nose pressed into Dean’s side. He jolted away in surprise, almost flailing off balance. The kitten blinked at him, then mrowwed again.
Stalemate.
Sam and Moira, standing against the wall, stared at the odd scene. Slowly, it all began to sink into Sam, and he snickered.
Dean sent him a wounded look over his shoulder.
“It wants you to pet it!” Sam called, almost doubling over with laughter.
Dean tore his gaze from Sam and looked back at the kitten just as a headbutt from the animal knocked him from his feet. He went sprawling, rolling a few times until he landed at Sam and Moira’s feet, staring up at them in a daze.
Moira joined Sam in laughing as they hauled Dean to his feet. “Go on!” she said, shoving him towards the kitten. “Pet her!”
Dean reached up a hesitant hand as the kitten cocked her head at him, ear flicking the moment his hand brushed against the fur. He scratched behind the ear like it was the most important task he’d ever performed, considering that if she wanted to, the kitten could turn the three of them into her playthings.
Nothing like that happened, aside from a rumbling purr from deep in the cat’s chest. She stretched out her front legs, each toe extending as she flopped down at Dean’s feet and looked up at him.
“I think you have a new best friend,” Sam said in a laughing attempt at a hush as he slipped past Dean, leading Moira towards the wall entrance they’d left behind.
“You’re not so bad, are ya?” Dean mused as he rubbed behind the ear again, thinking everything was going to work out fine.
Just as Sam and Moira made it to the wall, it happened.
“Ah– CHOO!”
Dean’s sneeze was so violent he was knocked off his feet, landing on his butt an inch away from a curious ear flick. The kitten picked up her head, nosing worriedly at Dean when the scritches didn’t resume. He barely noticed the large wet spot left on his leather jacket this time, too concerned with holding back another sneeze.
“ACHOO!”
Sam had to come back to grab Dean with Moira safely in the walls, hauling his older brother up and giving him a shove at the entrance while distracting the kitten with a scritch. Sam, who didn’t have any allergies to cats, did much better than his older brother, and escaped the moment the kitten’s eyes fluttered shut.
They parted ways with Moira at the fork in the path, her returning to her home with her parents while Sam propelled Dean towards their new home in the hopes that dunking his head in water might help the sneezes.
Otherwise, they might lose their ninja titles.
All through the walls, Dean sneezed.
Passing a kitchen with wonderful aromas wafting through the walls. “Ah-choo!”
Hearing a toilet flush. “Ah– ACHOO!”
Sam let out a sigh as they finally got home, hurrying to their water supplies while Dean morosely picked at a long, ginger-colored hair that clung to him even after leaving the kitten behind.
“Ah– CHOO! ”
The humans living in the flat were usually more observant than most. They were also quite busy and happened to be lost in their own worlds.
Sherlock Holmes was wrapped up in an experiment, subjecting disembodied fingers– specifically the fingernails– to the flame of a blowtorch at gradually lengthened intervals. It was a relatively quiet experiment, but the smell of it had John Watson slamming the sliding kitchen doors shut to keep the odor out of the main room.
John sat at the small table against the wall in the middle of the living room, typing away at his blog. Sherlock’s most recent case had been a convoluted one, and he wanted to be sure to get the details right. Or at least to a point where they made sense to the layman.
A muffled sneeze briefly broke his concentration.
“Gesundheit,” John muttered, under the assumption that the fingernail-fumes were finally starting to get to Sherlock. For his part, the detective hadn’t even heard the small noise from the kitchen, and so he and the doctor remained blissfully ignorant of the smaller residents of 221B Baker Street as the brothers stared at each other in shock, the human’s response to Dean’s sneeze completely unexpected.
Before Dean could sneeze again, Sam dunked his head into the cap of water. Dean resurfaced, gasping and wiping at his eyes before burying his head in the nest of fabric he called a bed. A muffled sneeze could be heard as Dean slumped in place.
“No more cats,” Sam said grimly, wondering at their close call with Sherlock and John.
She came up when we were originally spitballing ideas for BC, the young daughter of Sam and Dean’s adopted family. In the actual story, she’s 18 years old, and 3.3 inches tall (the equivalent of 5′3″ for our style borrower/little).
Even next to her older brothers, she’s very petite! But don’t let her innocent looks deceive you– She grew up with those two older brothers, and is more of a tomboy than she looks. She is ready to fight!
Moira pushed the block of wood out of her way. “Dean! Sam!” she said, glancing around the dark interior of their home. It was more spartan than her room. No decorative wall hangings covered the smooth wood interior, and they’d put down no rugs. The only dash of color came from Sam’s papers hanging on the walls, and with a grin, Moira took one down.
“What’s this, Sam?” she called out gamely, reading an entry that was scratched out in aggravation. “Dean, dumping water over your head again? ” She shook her head. “He never gives up.”
With the continued absence of a reply, she began to wonder if they were even close by. Perhaps they were around the flat, spying on the humans or getting food. Eager to track them down, she replaced the paper on the walls.
“You should come out,” she sang happily as she hitched up her satchel and pulled the block back in place in front of their home to set out and search. “Mother packed some treats! I know Dean wouldn’t want me to eat all his cake…”
Sam and Dean, after finding themselves lost and alone in England, will get adopted into a small family. Mother, father, very young daughter (Moira is only 6 years old when they find the brothers). The two lost boys have only the clothes on their backs, and they’re surprisingly attached to the design (one of the last connections they have to their father). With the barter system in England, and most of the women around can sew, getting new clothing was simple.
Once they discovered Dean’s knack, it became easy to find things to trade for clothing, and after the brothers killed off a rat, they traded the meat to a tanner to make them both a hefty pair of boots, Dean’s leather jacket (gotta have), and their bags.
Brothers Apart 