“Look, are you sure you’re this in love with that Mary Hick?” Connall didn’t even wait for a response, just waved a hand at him. “Ya, I know, I know. Look, you don’t know what you’re getting into with Crowe. Old Crowe. Jaysus fuck!” Connall slammed his beer bottle on the coffee table and wiped hurriedly at his eyes. “Let me… let me give you some history. He stole our Ma away back right before the Romans really got a foothold on the main isle. He got Darren around, eh, 1150 or so, and then Jamie around 1800. But he’s really been after Artie this entire time because he’s the one Ma most wanted to protect, the real crown jewel. I told him! I told him, I told him, I told him!” Connall yelled suddenly. He breathed heavily, then looked Alfred straight in the eye and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Caring is not an advantage with the fae, just another weakness for them to exploit.” Connall buried his face in his palms. Alfred blinked, trying to take it all in. That’s why he’d never met Darren, despite all that Arthur talked about him, and he hadn’t seen James since… well around 1800, actually. Connall raised his head and looked sheepish. “Sorry, laddie, I…” He ran a hand through cropped brown locks. Blue eyes looked up at Alfred, desperate and sad and frustrated all at once. “I don’t think you can get him back. All of us tried to bring Ma home, and it’s only gotten worse from there.”
“But I’m good at doing the impossible.” Alfred grinned, not exactly phased, but slightly more worried. He hid it well. “Besides, Arthur’s been doing a crap ton of protection crap on me for years.”
“But not if you go after him!” Connall stood suddenly, towering over Alfred, eyes grieving and petulant and worried. “Do you want everything he did to be in vain?!”
“No, but fuck I am going after him!” Alfred said, glaring up at him. “I don’t care, I’d rather be with him than not! I came to see if you could represent Arthur at the next meeting if we don’t make it back in time. And yes,” Alfred preempted the question, “I did ask Matt to take my place.”
Connall stared at him hard for a good thirty seconds. “Fine.” He said, then turned, and began to scan his bookshelves. “You’re completely thick, boyo.” He muttered. “Artie couldn’t get any sense into ya it seems.” Connall started tossing out books like they were worthless. “If you don’t come back, you know that Matthew will take your place and country into his own. You don’t want that. Here.” He flung a last book in Alfred’s direction, which Alfred caught deftly. “Start reading.”
Alfred opened the thin, leatherbound thing, and looked at the title page. Kirkland family property, it read. Do NOT read without express permission of the Kirklands, else ancient curse befall you. Alfred looked up at Connall and opened his mouth to ask about this whole curse thing.
“Ya, you can read it, I threw it at ya didn’t I, you babby.” Connall rolled his eyes at Alfred, who huffed again. What was it with this family that made him feel simultaneously like he was six and the only sane person in the room? Oh right, they believed in magic. Alfred shoved the thought that he most definitely believed in magic now as well to the back of his head. Really, the world was so much nicer when it was simply the two senile Kirkland brothers. No James, no Darren, no mother, no Arthur stolen away by the faeries.
Alfred flipped the page, and discovered a mass of carefully marked but utterly incomprehensible writing. Alfred stared at the page in disbelief, wondering how the hell he was supposed to read this. “Uh, Connall…” Alfred said, standing from the comfortable love seat. “I can’t, what is this, I mean –”
Connall slapped a palm to his face and muttered something indistinct. “Right then, I forgot that that’s in Old English. C’mere, you’ll need to know the language where you’re going.”
Re: Crowe 3b/?
“But I’m good at doing the impossible.” Alfred grinned, not exactly phased, but slightly more worried. He hid it well. “Besides, Arthur’s been doing a crap ton of protection crap on me for years.”
“But not if you go after him!” Connall stood suddenly, towering over Alfred, eyes grieving and petulant and worried. “Do you want everything he did to be in vain?!”
“No, but fuck I am going after him!” Alfred said, glaring up at him. “I don’t care, I’d rather be with him than not! I came to see if you could represent Arthur at the next meeting if we don’t make it back in time. And yes,” Alfred preempted the question, “I did ask Matt to take my place.”
Connall stared at him hard for a good thirty seconds. “Fine.” He said, then turned, and began to scan his bookshelves. “You’re completely thick, boyo.” He muttered. “Artie couldn’t get any sense into ya it seems.” Connall started tossing out books like they were worthless. “If you don’t come back, you know that Matthew will take your place and country into his own. You don’t want that. Here.” He flung a last book in Alfred’s direction, which Alfred caught deftly. “Start reading.”
Alfred opened the thin, leatherbound thing, and looked at the title page. Kirkland family property, it read. Do NOT read without express permission of the Kirklands, else ancient curse befall you. Alfred looked up at Connall and opened his mouth to ask about this whole curse thing.
“Ya, you can read it, I threw it at ya didn’t I, you babby.” Connall rolled his eyes at Alfred, who huffed again. What was it with this family that made him feel simultaneously like he was six and the only sane person in the room? Oh right, they believed in magic. Alfred shoved the thought that he most definitely believed in magic now as well to the back of his head. Really, the world was so much nicer when it was simply the two senile Kirkland brothers. No James, no Darren, no mother, no Arthur stolen away by the faeries.
Alfred flipped the page, and discovered a mass of carefully marked but utterly incomprehensible writing. Alfred stared at the page in disbelief, wondering how the hell he was supposed to read this. “Uh, Connall…” Alfred said, standing from the comfortable love seat. “I can’t, what is this, I mean –”
Connall slapped a palm to his face and muttered something indistinct. “Right then, I forgot that that’s in Old English. C’mere, you’ll need to know the language where you’re going.”