Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

Sometimes, the dance called life is graceful. Sometimes, you step on a toe or fall flat on your face.

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Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

Post by PrlUnicorn »

((Please see the Content Warning before reading this thread!))


Midday - 16 March 2021

Colleen had plans for the day when she drove the Rover through the gates at the end of the drive. A quick glance in the mirror showed nothing behind her and the four wheel drive vehicle was tossed in reverse. The Land Rover rolled back through the gate and stopped. Something felt wrong, like a storm churning in the air. "I'm not dressed fer auto repairs," she muttered as she climbed out to check the tires. The crunch of boots on gravel just outside the boundary of her land had her attention. She straightened slowly and was met with the image of a strongly built man with a familiar face. Her eyes rolled back and she shook her head. "Not a good choice fer a disguise. Now, tell me who ya are 'n' what ya want afore I remember who I used ta be."

"It's who you used to be that I require. We rode together in battle, you owe ..." He took a step forward and was thrown back once he connected with the perimeter ward.

"I owe ya nothin'. I owe nothin' to the Lord ya once served. Ya betrayed yer kin then 'n' ya'd do it again. Even when ya were on leadin' strings ya were selfish little shits. The pair o' ya."

"What of you? You were our queen."

That remark caused the redhead to break into fits of laughter. "I was never anyone's queen. Unless ya count on the chess board."

"You taught my sister that lesson, Lady, but she's dead now."

"How?" Collie didn't let the ache in her heart reflect on her face. "What happened ta Merilee?"

"Assassinated." He couldn't help the malicious smile on his face that spoke to his elder of betrayal of yet more of his kin. "We've come for one of your blood to lead."

"No." Nothing else, just a single word.

"No? You tell me no?"

"Gérard, get the dung out o' yer ears." Colleen's expression hardened. The words spat from her lips like venom from a viper. "I watched a lot o' people die serving yer Da. He was a good man and deserved better than what yerself 'n' yer turncoat cousin did. I buried yer parents. I didn't end that war fer ya ta start another."

"I want them or I'll take one of yours!"

"Them..." the light suddenly dawned for her, a child for child, "if I had her children here, yer body would already be writhin' in death throes. Unless ya forgot what it is I do now."

Arms across his chest, Gérard remembered.
Last edited by PrlUnicorn on Mon Apr 26, 2021 3:08 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future

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September 1532

Winter foliage and flowers were appearing as the summer ones faded in the garden where Gérard paced. A marriage had been arranged with the Duke’s younger granddaughter. While she would have a considerable dowry, children born to them would be secondary to her sister’s line. He would do his duty to family and wed the child, but once there was an heir, he planned to avoid her. Maybe even be rid of her somehow. The marriage was a convenience, a political alliance. He needed to tread lightly. Even the invading English soldiers avoided this bit of Irish ground. The rumor was the family guarded a gateway into the lands of the Faire Folk. Better to not tempt fate and at least give lip service to an old religion.

Unlike her sister, Celia was a demure creature always trying to please people. She made no complaints to her grandparents about their choice for her. The fifteen year old Count seemed a good prospect. But was he?

Gérard studied the lithe figure as she approached and pictured what a beauty she would become in a few years time. She could give him children, he thought. The other one could have made him a Duke in time, but she’d have been harder to control. There were stories aplenty about her riding with men and how she was training with weapons. She was said to have been somewhere between Aoife MacMurrough and Boudicca. Neither of those women would have fallen prey to his prey to his schemes. Better she was in Scotland, she was as wild as the Picts.

Even now, someone advocated against him.

Within the walls of the keep, the older of twin girls had finished reading aloud. The thirteen year old’s fingers curled around the rough ones of her grandfather. He’d been ill for some time. While it was hoped he would recover, his wife and two granddaughters had kept a vigil. The girls attended to his meals and read to him at various times of day. Other things were left to his wife and the servants.

“Please don’t make Celia marry that man. Another husband, someone that will treat ‘er better. He means ‘er harm ‘n’ ya know how ‘n’ why I know this! He’s….” the words stopped as she saw red.

“He will treat her well ‘r ‘e knows what ‘e loses if ‘e doesn’t.” He brushed hair out of the girl’s eyes. “My Katie, there’s a marriage in the makin’ fer yerself, too.”

“I know.” She nodded solemnly. “Scotland was m’father’s home. I’ll be fine there. Yer sendin’ ‘er ta France! She barely knows please ‘n’ thank ya in that tongue. He’s evil.” She scowled. “He’s that serpent’s tooth o’ a child that’s been warned o’.”

“The bargain be already struck, m’girl. There’s no goin’ back, now.”

“There’s another way.” She squeezed the old man’s hand, sending warmth into it. “He has brothers unpromised ‘n’ half-brothers. Ya owe ‘is father not him.”

“Some o’ the brothers are promised, but ta the church. Better France than the presented alternatives, Richmond ‘n’ Somerset.”

“Hrmph,” she grumbled. “Last thing they want is the likes o’ me within a hairsbreadth o’ a chance bein’ Queen.”

“Last thing I want is yerself caught up in that family. When a man puts his wife aside…”

Holding up her free hand, she waved it twice. “I know.” She closed her eyes as something sunk into her often thick skull. “This is about t’other place, the Otherworld.” A low growl of frustration escaped the young teenager before she murmured to her grandfather, “Ya could’ve told us ‘n’ saved a lot o’ trouble. It explains that man out there ‘n’ much more.”
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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January 1533

The sisters made their preparations and were sent off to their new homes. Neither would be in attendance at the other’s wedding. Gérard Boulanger knelt at the altar of the already aged church named for Saint Denis. His fingers curled around his bride’s as the nuptial mass was spoken in Latin.

Latin was a language Celia understood well enough. Her response to the question of whether or not she would marry the man beside her, however, was a simple, “Oui.” She had come to terms with things. As Comtesse Boulanger she would be expected to run the household and fill her primary duty, to give birth to at least one heir. By the end of that summer, the impending birth was announced.


Midday - 16 March 2021

It was a while before either spoke again. Colleen’s left foot pawed at the ground like an agitated horse readying to fight. “Come ta the point, Gérard. What. Do. You. Want.”

“I want my inheritance. I’ve come to you to claim it.” The words were hissed at her through clench teeth. “By force if need be.”

She pressed her thumb against her left temple and used the fingers of the same hand to massage the other temple. “Yer tryin’ m’ patience, man. I have plans fer the evenin’. I have nothin’ that belongs ta ya. The things yer father left behind, that I claimed, were given ta me by him on his deathbed.” Her eyes narrowed. “Ya remember that, don’t ya? Ya put ‘im there.”

His brows lifted and that sick twisted grin appeared again. “It was you then.”

“When he died, ya mean? Aye, I was there. So was yer sister. I should say half-sister. Seems ya killed ‘er, too.”

“She was …”

“He named her wit’ his last breaths. The others were dead ‘r like yerself turned out ta be ... missin’. Merilee was the last one standin’.” She could feel his rage as he realized the failure of his plans had been of his own making. “What’s the trouble, Gerry, lad, someone walk over yer grave?” Sarcasm dripped.

“I’ll return with help if need be, Lady. Those artifacts are mine.”

“Do that, but if it’s a war yer really wantin’, yer should remember how the last one ended. I still have a standin’ army.”

He broke into fits of insane laughter. “Your army is being led by a child! She’s barely out of swaddling…” Before he could finish the sentence, a line of freshly fired arrows were lined up like pickets just inside the fence line.

“Tangod haid!” she called out to the unseen archers. “That child is not much older than I was when ya first laid eyes on me. I want ya ta think back ta what I was capable o’ doin’.”

The Frenchman blanched. Those same capabilities were why he wanted to win her over.

“Mm.'' The noise was guttural. “Go home afore ya start another war. Ya don’t want ta be on the receivin’ end o’ that weaponry’s sting. I really don’t want the heir I have in mind ta need ta use it on ya.”

“You still blame me…”

“Yes.”

((Author’s note: “Tangod haid!” is Sindarin for “Hold fire!”))
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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Midsummer - 1533 - The Isle of Skye, Scotland

The sun had begun to set as the couple walked, hand in hand, through a meadow. She was silent as they paused to admire the view.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, lass?” He drew her to his side with one arm and kissed her temple.

“There was word from m’sister.”

“She’s well, I hope.”

Her smile quivered. “Her French is gettin’ better.”

“And?” he prompted.

“She’s got a bairn comin’.”

“That troubles you?”

“Aye, but not because we don’t. Her body isn’t ready.”

He was empathetic to her concerns and drew her closer. “You know that how?”

“I’ve helped midwives. They’ve tol’ me that just b’cause a girl starts ‘er courses doesn’t mean she’s ready fer carryin’ life in ‘er womb.” She rested her head against his chest. “Our mother was taken that way.”

“I ken that well. It’s why we’re waiting. Handfasting first. Marriage and children will come in time.”

“Aye, ‘n’ soon enough we’ll leave the comforts o’ this place.”

“Do you know the Laird of Dunvagen chose you?”

“I expect I do. Someone has ta keep that precious cloth from slippin’ inta the wrong hands.”

“Who better than one of the line that gifted it?”

“Hmm. He could’ve chosen m’sister.”

“No, Neamhnaid,” he shook his head, “you are stronger. You will always be stronger.



26 January 1534 - From the Journal of Catriona NicLeòid

Devastation is the only way to describe what one feels when they are told the person that shared the womb with them is dead. I don’t blame the widower for Celia’s death. I blame him for the coldness in his words when I saw him. I blame him for the lack of care and respect he gave her memory. I hate him for not even choosing a name for the child that died with her. With magic that can’t be spoken of, he brought their preserved remains to be buried in ancient hallowed ground. I might forgive one day, but I shall never forget. The loss of one that grew from the same seed will never truly heal.

(( Author's notes:
The cloth referred to is the Fairy Flag of Clan MacLeod. A little more on Collie’s association with that artifact can be found in Chapter 6 - Rhiannon Harker
Neamhnaid is Scottish Gaelic for pearl.
NicLeòid is the feminine form of MacLeod in Scottish Gaelic and meaning daughter of Leod.))
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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June 1534 - From the Journal of Catriona NicLeòid

Last year, I was brought from the grandeur of Dunvagen to the little village near Lochs Shiel and Eil. It was there that we were handfasted at Beltane and were set to marry by the same time this year. Most of the sept treated me with respect. However, there were a few that had previous and imagined connections to my betrothed. They were not pleased to find another mare for the stallion to chase. With the exception of one, they came to terms with the fact that I had no more choice in the arrangement than he did. I held their hands as they pushed their bairns into the world. They began to give me their trust except her.

Maybe she now blames me for what he had become, rather, what he’d been revealed to be. After a battle, he laid close to death for days after what should have been a fatal wound. When he recovered, devilry was suspected. That woman looked to me, the outsider, as the source of the trouble. I did not bother to protest my innocence when she flew at me. She was ready for a fight that likely included biting and hair pulling. When I grabbed a long knife from the cook’s cutting table to defend myself, she backed away. I was not the delicate flower she thought me to be. No, Neamhnaid, you are stronger. You will always be stronger. I finally understood the full meaning of those words.

Banishment rather than death was the punishment. It has always troubled me when people are punished in some way for simply being different. People wish to destroy what they do not understand. With him being sent away, it was decided to return me to my people. Despite this, my father’s surname was never to be used for me again. It was the price of that bargain between my grandfather and Clan MacLeod. They have already chosen someone else for me.
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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Early Afternoon - 16 March 2021

Leaning one arm on the Rover’s hood, she tried not to let her growing weariness show. “M’answer is still no. Yer not gettin’ those things.”

“You will help me, woman, or I’ll take things from you again.”

“Don’t threaten me, Jerry. I’m too old fer yer games.” Her mind was racing as to how she could cross the boundary of her land and get through the warding charms to kill him before he could get to her. The risk to others if he got past her was too great. She would bide her time.

“Not going to ask?” The man’s twisted expression had returned.

“About what? Ya think I don’t remember m’sister ‘n’ the daughter ya should’ve been raisin’ together?”

Gérard stiffened visibly. That lost child had been his only offspring in half a millennium. It was as though he’d been cursed to never have more. He blamed the woman before him for that. Had she cursed him as revenge for her own pain? If she had, her vengeance was well deserved, but how could she have known? Had she ever learned the real crime he’d committed? That sin on his soul that could never be forgiven as long as he lived. “The daughter I took from you. I could take another just as easily.”

Her eyes narrowed then her expression became unreadable. All those years ago, Shay’s death was thought to have been a case of mistaken identity. The girl had been five when she was found with her throat slashed. Having previously lost two sons - one presumed dead and the second stolen - before the girl, the third loss had been another knife in the mother’s heart.

Realization struck him as he clenched his fist. “You didn’t know.” Monstrous laughter came from him, but it didn’t last long. The hatred that appeared on her face caused him to rush back a few paces. That was the opportunity she’d been waiting for!

She was outside the boundary line in a moment. The warding acted like water and allowed her to become part of it as she moved through, no gap was open for him to enter. “You. Hideous. Bastard.” She enunciated each word. “Ya came here demandin’ aid ‘n’ weaponry from me ‘n’ when ya didn’t get it, ya finally confess ta murderin’ m’ child?” Laughing voices and hoofbeats were heard in the distance. The bodice dagger was at his throat as she hissed, “I won’t allow them ta watch me gut ya. Next time I see ya will be the last. Mark those words.” She shoved the big man back with one hand and a blast of magic she’d kept at bay for centuries. The glamour fell. What stood before Gérard Boulanger’s sprawled form was the visage of the Grandame that once stood as regent for the Court and family he betrayed … twice. Her mother’s line was of the Tuatha Dé Danann, ancient and powerful. She’d honed those gifts over time, but in Rhydin only the healing ones were known to be particularly strong.

Something else lurked under the surface of that angered woman that he didn’t recognize. He couldn’t move, she’d paralyzed him, and he had underestimated her. She hadn’t grown soft as he thought. Motherhood had changed her from a formidable warrior into a guardian force of nature. All he could do was groan.

Once she was certain the paralyzation spell had worked, she crouched and whispered, “That little girl o’ mine that ya killed, she’s one o’ the two reasons I made sure all those what come from me are ready fer things like yerself. Listen well, if anythin’ happens ta Merilee’s children, no matter who does the deed, yer the one what will pay.“ She brushed her fingers over the man’s temples as she caused a temporary memory loss to come over him. She helped up and got him on his way. Once Gérard was down the road a bit, she whistled for one of the farm’s dogs. “Finn, have the pups follow; you stay back fer now.” The dog with a wolfish face sent the younger members of his pack to watch the man.

It was only a moment, but it felt like hours when she heard a ghostly voice, “Why did ya let ‘im go, Katie?”

Colleen turned her head toward the voice and let go of the breath she’d been holding for what seemed like forever. “He did no’ fool me, Ce. He knows where those children are. Kill ‘im ‘n’ the knowledge dies wit’ ‘im.”

“Mmm… you always were better at plannin’ ahead. Beltane … that be the best chance ta cross in. Can’t hold a path open more ‘an a fortnight.”

“Dependin’ on how things go, might have ta call in help on yer side o’ things.”

Celia faded away as Colleen moved back across her borders. She needed to find those riders.
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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Colleen was so agitated as she made her way back to the house that she missed the young rider moving through the treeline. She found her youngest pair of daughters in the kitchen with Catie making a snack. A frown touched the woman’s features a moment. “Where’s Maggie?”

Abby and Madison shrugged at their mother as they slathered peanut butter over bread. Catie met her grandmother’s eyes. “Something in the woods got her attention, she went to investigate.”

“The woods,” Colleen murmured. She fixed herself a mug of tea. “I’ll be in m’study if ya need me.” A frown touched her lips, if Maggie did sense a presence it meant only one thing; Celia had been there and wasn’t a figment of her imagination. The teenager's connection to things and beings on the other side of the Veil was well known in the family.

After closing herself into her study, Collie spiked the tea with a heavy dose of liquor. Settling into her comfortable chair, the redhead closed her eyes and inhaled the steam off the top of the mug. After she had a bit of quiet, she dialed Chelle’s office number.

After a few rings, Limelenath’s familiar voice answered, “Rachael MacLeod’s office, how may I help you?”

“Melly, it’s Gran, let yer Mum know that I need to update all m’legal papers as soon as she’s able.”

“Hold on, Naneth’s putting dinner on the cooker.” The teenager had an odd way of combining her father’s native Sindarin with the British terms her mother had picked up while going to school and working in England.

Before Colleen could protest, Melly had already taken the phone into the kitchen.

Chelle’s storm grey looked over her daughter with concern. Normally, the procedure for the short break she took between appointments was she wasn’t to be disturbed. “What’s wrong?”

Her expression unreadable, the half-elf held out the phone to her mother. “Lín naneth. She wants to talk shop.” She took over the cooking duties.

Rachael gave her daughter a thankful smile and shut the door behind her as she went back into her office. Client confidentiality, family or not, was always maintained. Automatically, she opened her mother’s files as she greeted her, “Hello, Mum. What can I do for you?” She was used to doing an annual review of her mother’s will and financial papers, but that usually happened around the time of her birthday in November.

“Need ta do a review o’ m’will ‘n’ papers. Add provisions fer Rhi ‘n’ Eregor’s baby as well as …” she paused a moment, “as well as a codicil regarding letters wit’ bequests.”

Chelle sighed a bit as she settled at her desk. “I’ll need copies of those letters if I don’t have them on record. Mother, you of all people should know it’s hard to keep track of property division if you’re promising things to individuals that aren’t in the main record. As your attorney I have to advise you of that fact.”

Collie’s fingers curled around the now cooled mug of doctored tea. “Ya have most. Like the one fer Dris regardin’ the harpsichord. If ya didn’t advise me o’ that fact, Chelle, I’d be wonderin’ if the money spent fer yer law degree wasn’t a wise decision.” Collie chuckled.

“Humor, ar ar,” Chelle chuckled. “I think it was money well spent. I might not be prosecuting cases in London courts anymore, but I make a comfortable living.”

“Indeed,” Collie said as she breathed a sigh of relief. “I need ta make provisions fer Rhi and Eregor’s baby. Things regardin’ the main house, that might need ta change.”

“Changed your mind about Ian getting it?”

“No, he wants the cabin ‘n’ the farmland.”

“Right… there are a lot of details to go over. Is this going to require a family meeting?” Chelle drew in a long breath and let it go. The last time the family had a full scale business meeting was when Abby and Madison, the youngest of her siblings were infants.

“No, the fewer questions asked, the better. I’m planning a trip ‘n’ ... ”

“Mother,” her tone had become somewhat perturbed, “I know you when you’re up to something big. So, if there’s any possibility you’ll be returning home in a box or ashes, we need to be prepared.”

“Rachael Ellen, if yer tongue was any sharper ya’d need ta be careful ‘r cuttin’ yerself when ya eat.” Colleen sounded amused.

Chelle laughed. “I learned from the best and it’s genetic.” After a minute of uncomfortable silence, she shifted back to her professional tone, “Will, guardianship papers, deeds, and copies of those letters. I already know how to get the originals if they are needed. Anything else?”

“Aye, Maggie gets the house ‘n’ charge o’ the herds.”

“Big responsibility, Mum, are you sure?”

“Aye, I’m sure. Plenty ta help her when the time comes.”

“Tomorrow then.”

“Aye.”

The conversation became personal before it ended within an hour. Once the conversation with Rachael was done, Colleen looked over the letters in her vault and prepared to add a few more.


((Author’s note: Lín naneth is Sindarin for thy mother. ))
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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Late Afternoon - 16 March 2021

Before heading to the gate Maggie circled back to the stables to change out horses. She chose a young red colt that was barely broken to the saddle.

A voice shouted, “Not that one, Miss!” The groom reaching for the animal’s bridle was not much older than Maggie.

Maggie didn’t need to stay his hand. The stablemaster, Marcus Lambert, had been stealthy in his movements toward them. When he murmured, “Lad, frightening that animal is unwise.”

After soothing him with clicks of her tongue and neck rubs, Maggie guided the horse from his stall. Gentle fingers parted the animal’s forelock to reveal a small sparkling emerald spire “There you are, Cernunnos,” she whispered, “shall we go see your part of the woods?” The answer was a toss of his head as Maggie put the saddle blanket in place. She inclined her head to the stablemaster, who took the action as his cue to make an introduction.

“Maggie, this is Samuel Pickett. Sam, this is the Lady Mairead Harker.”

“Just Maggie, please.” She offered the groom a smile.

Sam’s ears were bright red as he uttered muffled words. “Sorry, m’lady … Maggie. I didn’t realize.”

“I just have one piece of advice, Sam,” Maggie spoke quietly. “No matter how well intentioned your motives,” she laid the saddle over the colt’s back as she talked, “don’t take the chance of spooking an equine to stop someone from mounting up. Had it been someone with less steady hands than mine, the Horned One, here, might have bolted and run them over in the process.” She gave Sam a reassuring smile. “When I get back, please see that he has a good rub down and an extra measure of oats.” Maggie tugged the girth strap into place and fastened it. She double checked all the buckles before mounting up. A grateful smile was given to Marcus before she rode off.

“Mind yourself around her, Sam.”

“She’s just a girl with a fancy title in front of her name, she doesn’t scare me,” was Sam’s sassy retort.

“You follow any of the dueling sports in Rhydin, lad?”

“Sure I do.” The young man grinned.

“Heard of the Baby Baroness?”

Who following Swords hasn’t?” Sam smirked.

“Happen to recall the young lady’s name?”

“Yeah, huh… it’s Mag….” Sam’s jaw dropped and froze in position for a bit. When he finally spoke, he sounded bemused. “That was her?”

“Aye, that was her. When she was a tiny thing, barely walking, I watched her be settled on a horse’s back. She’ll be fine with that colt. We have work to do.”

The teenager and the red beast were out of sight quickly as they galloped across the open field. They slowed to a walk as they made their way through the woods. It was nearly supper time when Maggie was finally in sight of the front gate. Finn revealed his presence as rider and mount approached. The wolf-like dog chuffed and Maggie returned the greeting. Before she could dismount, Cernunnos shied and backed up a few steps. Maggie made quiet whickering noises similar to those a mare would make to comfort a foal. “What’s wrong?” she said aloud, but quietly.

The small emerald spire on the colt’s forehead began to glow. Maggie’s eyes narrowed as she finally saw the figure just inside the gate. To her knowledge, only four people had that effect on their unicorn herd; all were accounted for. She wrapped the reins around her hand and moved forward, slowly. “Who are you?” The words were spoken quietly. The figure never answered, but Maggie’s senses told her it was who she had felt earlier while riding with the younger girls. It would be easy to ask her grandmother. Given the rage still hanging in the air, the odds weren’t so good for getting answers. They lead to other questions.
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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Maggie dismounted and, after looping the reins around a thick tree branch, approached the gate to get a better sense of what was going on. She crouched to get a better look at the tire tracks on the ground. The corners of her lips turned downward as she muttered, “Looks like the ground when a horse backs away from something in a hurry. When hooves shove dirt back.”

Finn sidled up to the teenager and dropped his chin on her shoulder. He made low growling sounds that seemed to be signs of discontentment. Maggie reached up and scritched under the wolf dog’s jaw. She made low chuffing sounds and nuzzled the side of the dog’s head. What did you … observe?

Finn gave Maggie a sideways headbutt and made more gruff noises. He smelled like something between Troll and Redcap with a side of death.

What about the spirit I saw?

Which spirit, many walk here.

Maggie gave the dog a playful swat much like a littermate might have when he was younger. Now, you are being difficult and fey.

I don’t know. She shaded herself from my eyes, the voice and shape were feminine. That much is so.

She rubbed the dog’s head as she listened to birds singing in nearby trees. “I have homework to do, Finnegan,” she murmured.

Finn curled his lip in annoyance. That is not my …

Maggie growled lowly, I know your name, Fionn mac Cumhaill. The others don’t. She looked at his expression and chuckled. “You look like that Elvis guy when your lip does that.”

Dogs had the ability to twist and move the skin above their eyes much like people did with eyebrows. Finn’s had just become something akin to a question mark. Who is … the Elvis guy?

You have a lot to learn. Maggie rubbed his head and stood. “Come on, Finn, let’s get this guy back to the stables!”

Late evening found Maggie in her grandmother’s home library. Over the next month, she would spend many hours divided between several libraries. Research took time, especially when several languages were involved. She needed to find as many of her own answers as possible. Getting the right answers from others often meant wording questions carefully. Maggie set her plans in order, playing chess had taught her that tipping one’s hand too early in the game resulted in a crushing loss. Whatever was going on, her students were her priority. If Finn was right and an emissary for Redcaps was on the move, the kids, especially Abby, needed to be ready to protect themselves.
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

Post by PrlUnicorn »

29 Mar 2021

Preparations had begun. When her sister’s spectre came to her and told her the gateway between worlds would be open for a brief time around Beltane, Colleen neglected to ask when the pathway would be open again. There was only one time of year when she knew the veil was thin. It was nearly six months past Beltane, Samhain. Maybe there was another way. Maybe, she wouldn’t be returning at all.

She sent for her eldest daughter, Christina, who would be taking primary responsibility for Abby and Madison while their mother was away. The timing would work out well as Chrisy was finishing up one of the restoration projects for Notre Dame in Paris at the end of April. Long ago, she’d earned her PhD in Art History. Teaching, however, was her true calling.

The matriarch’s will and legal documents had been updated. More letters were added to the vault. There were calls to pay and, perhaps, lives to change while she knew she still could. There was no need to tell Tass where she would be, she expected he would find her if and when the right time came.
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

Post by PrlUnicorn »

5 Apr 2021

Colleen had her fingers curled around a mug of hot tea as she looked out the French doors into the garden. It was her garden and it was teeming with life. The trees had begun to blossom a few weeks before, but because she had been so occupied with her preparations, she’d barely noticed. Jasmine and morning glories wound their way over the arbors that spanned the gates. The stone was cold under her bare feet as she stepped out to the patio. Colleen closed her eyes and inhaled the perfume of flowers. There was a twinge of sadness as she looked toward a lattice wall. A honeysuckle vine had taken root and mingled with the wood to create a sanctuary for one that had never breathed. Her reverie was broken as she heard a voice not unlike her own.

“Margarítis.” The woman addressed Colleen before taking a seat at the highly polish oak table.

“Mornin’, Morrigan.” In that moment, her memory drifted back to a warehouse in Dockside. Until that moment, she’d never really thought about how it had been for Darien to execute someone with his own face.

She snapped her fingers a few times to get Colleen’s attention. “Stay in the now, please, and tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s unsettling ta see yer face on someone else.”

“I believe that is what is referred to as preaching to the choir.”

“My youngest told me that one o’ ya wants ta go back ta sleep. Seein’ yer here now, I think I finally know a way ta make that happen.” Long fingers wrapped around the steaming mug as she drew it close to her body.

Unconsciously, Morrigan’s fingers moved over the thin line at her throat. The mortician’s delicate sutures had dissolved, but the line -once an angry gaping wound- remained. When she first appeared to Darien Fenner, nearly a decade ago, the bruises and seemingly fresh cut on her throat were a stark reminder of the fate his wife could have suffered without his intervention. Discolored marks were still present like bracelets on her wrists. “You are preparing for war.” It was not a question.

Colleen lifted her gaze from her mug to study the woman sitting across from her. It was odd, even after all this time, to be speaking to other versions of herself. “The pathway’s openin’, first two weeks in May.” She took a long drink from the steaming mug. “What about our third?”

“Hope has been trying to live a life that no longer makes sense. Her children are grown and no longer need her.”

“So, she thinks.” They said in unison and grinned at each other.

Morrigan lifted the glass of single malt to her lips. “It is a shame that he was with someone else when she was in greatest need. She ever tell you who his partner was?”

“Och, aye.” She held out the half full mug for Morrigan to top it off with the good stuff “Same one what positioned ‘erself ta comfort our grievin’ widowers.” She inhaled the mixture of alcohol fumes and tea steam before taking a sip. “I suppose fer his sake, she feigned bein’ glad I survived.”

Morrigan gave Colleen a sidelong glance. “You wanted to trust her.” Her index finger lifted from the glass to point at her counterpart. “Maybe, you did trust her. Trust is often abused.” She downed half half the scotch in her glass then made a derisive sound. “When was it that you became wise to her ways?”

Her fingers were laced around the mug that rested against her belly. “When I ran inta one o’ ‘er exes.”

“He say something that jogged your memory?”

Collie shook her head. “No. I remembered someone ‘e once loved. They’re gone now.” She closed her eyes as she tried to replay the scene in her head. “It was then that I realized she seemed ta have quietly slipped inta ‘is life at just the right time. I wanted ta believe she was sincerely tryin’ ta make ‘im happy. He deserved it, he needed it. It was all a feckin' game ta 'er.” Her voice cracked as the words trailed off and she topped off the drink in her mug. "Playin' wit' someone's heart is a dangerous game."

“Margarítis … Colleen… " Morrigan momentarily rested her hand over Colleen’s. “It is over and done. "

She smiled sadly and brushed the fingertips of one hand over her dampened cheeks. “I know, but I can’t help but be wonderin’, if I’d found the courage sooner, but it’s too late.”

“We are not speaking of Darien or that friend anymore, are we?”

((Author’s note: The origin of Margarítis, Morrigan, and Hope is explained in Sublimation: The Ripples in Time. They are mentioned further in Bless Me Father ... and two are the ghost people Madison refers to in Letters in the Vault.
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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“No, no we’re not.” She shook her head. “Ya know very well that there’s a string o’ missed chances ‘n’ what ifs.”

Morrigan knew that feeling all too well. “Does that include the present subject of the conversation?”

“Yes, maybe, I don’t be knowin’!” Colleen’s her shook twice and hands went up in the classic I give up position.

“Does the … do they know?” Morrigan studied one of her still living counterparts. She’d never been or known Colleen to be attracted to women, but times and people changed.

Another head shake. “I don’t know, ‘s complicated. Now, let it got afore I bring up names neither o’ us wants ta speak about.”

“Just one more question?” Morrigan rested her hands on the backs of her fingers.

“Just one.” There was a hint of warning in her tone.

“Could it be the name?” She tipped her head like a curious puppy.

“No, not the name.” Colleen’s eyes narrowed as one of her brows rose up in a questioning expression. It was the sort of look that could have been accompanied by a cry of Eureka a “So, ya been readin’ m’ letters, ya nosy thing!”

“I don’t leave this house and rarely speak to anyone but you.” She took a drink of the single malt before going on. “Who would I tell?”

“We both know that yer inclined ta go set things right. I’m telling ya ta leave it be!” Her fist hit the table and the drinkware sitting on it rattled like window glass in a thunderstorm.

“Temper, temper,” Morrigan chided.

“Ya recall when Damon suggested that our temper should be tamed?”

Morrigan lifted her head slowly and her nostrils flared. “You should say something to …”

“I keep m’promises as best I can.”

“You will be paying a few calls then, before you leave. I know who I would see ... if I could.”

“Ya weren’t held prisoner, ya know. Ya could’ve…”

“Before I join you, perhaps I will.”

“When do we prepare her fer this?”

“Carefully,” Collie murmured. “I’m thinkin’ there might be a way to send her back to get a better chance.” The sadness in her voice was palpable.

“If we ask the right people for help, we might be able to do that. Might even be able to allow her the knowledge of all three of our paths.”

“Tomorrah,” she paused, “we’ll see if that’s what she wants.”
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

Post by PrlUnicorn »

6 Apr 2021

The following day, three women, each a variant of the other two, breakfasted on the patio. Morrigan and Hope had been called the ghost people by the daughters of the house. While Morrigan had been dead and was in a state of Limbo, Hope had been in a state of self imposed exile. There was silence as they watched the changes in the colors of the sky, a ritual observance to honor the new beginning each day could offer. It was much like the winter solstice at Newgrange when light streamed into the chambers as the sun rose. They had seen it long before the place had become a tourist attraction.

It was Morrigan that broke the silence. “So, where do we begin?”

Hope drew her mug close to her body. “I’d say at the beginning, but that’s a very long time ago.”

Colleen’s eyes were closed as she inhaled the steam, a hint of chocolate in it, off of her mug. “Ya’ve been here a long time, Hope. Don’t ya want ta go home? See yer family again?”

“Is there a way to get me back to before I even met the one that nearly killed me?” She frowned and stared into her drink.

Morrigan frowned. “I doubt it would be a good idea since he claimed to have met me before I was ever introduced to Darien.”

Colleen linked her fingers around the mug. “Do you think it would be wise to go back that far? Where things diverged fer you, Hope?” Those at the table understood what it meant. “It could change things fer that Darien as well.”

Hope braced an elbow on the arm of her chair. “Given the circumstances, is that such a bad thing?”

Morrigan doctored her morning coffee with Jameson’s. “Maybe forward is a better answer for you.” She stirred the liquor into her drink. “You could find the one that was alive when I died.”

“Why not either of you taking that route?”

Colleen stiffened slightly at the question. “We've moved on, Hope. Ya haven’t.”

Morrigan got to the other point. “We have a war to fight.”

Forehead furrowing, Hope scowled. “What is this, a game of we’re not picking you to play?”

Morrigan’s head shook. “I cannot go there as anything other than a ghost. This battle might help me find the rest I’ve been searching for. I am already dead. You have a chance to move on. I don’t have that option.”

“If ya go forward, it won’t be any different from him comin’ backward in hopes o’ findin’ a mother fer ‘is girls. Maybe, if ya land in a step between, it could explain a few things.”

“She is not wrong.” A little smile flickered on Morrigan’s lips.

“Where do we begin?” That was the million dollar question. Hope would make her decision in time. She would not be heading off into a battle with her faery brethren, that much was certain.
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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Sunday - 11 Apr 2021


Each of the women would take their turn visiting St. Patrick’s on Church St. in Old Temple. Hope attended Sunday mass before seeking what was often now called the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Preferring to do things the old way, she knelt down in one of the confessional boxes.

As the slide opened so the priest could hear her, she made the sign of the cross to honor the customs of the sanctuary. “Bless me father… “

“My Lady MacLeod,” he murmured as he recognized the voice, “it’s been some time.”

Hope sighed audibly. “I’m not sure that’s my name anymore”

“What name should you be called?”

“The others, they call me Hope because there’s still hope that things can change for the better for me.”

“Hope, then.”

“Father. I’m not sure how I ended up at this point in time or this …place.”

“We all have a story to tell. I’m open to hearing yours.”

“It could be a long one.”

“I have time.” A creaking sound could be heard as the priest shifted his weight to get comfortable.

“I share part of a life path with two other women. I expect you mistook me for one of them. They will likely be coming to see you.”

“Yes, for Lady MacLeod. She isn’t a parishioner, but has come here many times.”

“It’s better than standard therapy, Father. Often, people just need someone to listen.”

“I’ve been told that.”

“About … ten year ago, I ended up here after nearly being killed. I was a victim of someone that I thought loved me. Domestic violence is the easiest way to describe it.”


“A spouse?”

“Yes, but not the one the others had married. He’d become a good friend, but …” those words trailed off.

He grew quiet just as she did. He was bracing for what he knew was coming. Colleen MacLeod took a tumble down the stairs around the timeframe that the woman mentioned. Colleen’s unborn children survived and were born prematurely. The catch in her breath and the quiet sob told him that her child hadn’t survived that fall. He waited for her to speak. He wanted to be wrong, but knew he wasn’t.

“It was no accident, Father. He lost his mind and helped me down the stairs.” The words had been delivered with contempt. “We’d been fighting. The whole marriage had been that way. He wasn’t that way before ...” She took a breath and told him what she told her counterparts, years before. "I don't even remember what we argued over that night. Something taken out of context? He was jealous to the point of having volcanic rage fits. He never liked it when people fought back. We were alone in the house that night.” She swallowed audibly. “I'd sent everyone else away. Holiday events. I thought privacy might do us some good, but I was wrong. So very wrong.” It took her a moment to compose herself. “I finally punched him and started to run. For the child's sake, I tried to get away. I felt his hands on me. The next thing I knew I blacked out. That, unfortunately, was in mid-fall down a flight of stairs." She had a picture of the man’s face in her head. The sharp intake of breath spoke of the anguish she still felt.

“You’re safe here,” he said quietly. “Take your time.”

“When I woke, he was gone. I knew I wasn’t alone because I heard three voices. They’d returned earlier than planned, they knew something was wrong. I don’t remember feeling pain or fear, but the warmth on my thighs told me that I was losing the child. They were able to get me to a physician in time to prevent my own demise. None of them had the skill or power to help both of us. There’s one now, but she wasn’t here then. She,” she swallowed hard, “was a small child then.”

Father Anthony Delgato knew some members of that family. Nicole Brock and Rhiannon Harker had nearby businesses. Rhiannon’s children, teenagers in the present time, were little then. “Mairead or Catherine?” he asked quietly.

“Neither, well… not those that belong here. She calls herself Pearl.” She tapped her finger on the top of the kneeler. “I don’t know if I can go back, Father. That option was talked about. The others have suggested going forward to give two little girls a mother since their own is dead.”

“What about the family you left behind, Hope? Don’t they need you?”

“I went into a deep depression after losing my baby. From piecing things together, it’s clear that it coincided with … Colleen’s time with postpartum depression. My family believes that I chose that time to end my existence in that plane.”

“Why would they believe that?” His words were filled with concern.

“Because that’s what I told them, but I ended up here. We are three parts of a whole. Each in pain and needing help.”

“I’m not sure how I can be of help.”

“I can’t go backward. Remaining closed away in Colleen’s home isn’t helping me or anyone else. Is it wrong of me to want to help those children? Maybe… help their father?”

“I think if you are honest about who you are and your intentions, there’s nothing wrong with it. Don’t allow yourself to be deceived into believing things you don’t truly feel.”

“Thank you, Father.” She rose from the kneeler and headed out the door. When the time came, she would stand at the gateway with the others, but would take a different road into a different life.
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Re: Echoes of the Past, Winds of the Future (See Content Warning)

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13 April 2021

The eldest priest, Monsignor Pádraig Ryan, was saying mass at St. Patrick’s that morning. As a boy, he’d been visited by travelers heading to the other side and had become a priest while still in his teens. He believed it was his calling to offer comfort to those preparing to make that journey; the sick and the elderly. It was rare for those already beyond The Veil to visit him now. He believed that eventually one of them would take his hand and lead him away from his mortal life. When the centenarian sensed Morrigan’s presence in the middle of his sermon on St. Caradoc, he lifted his head and made the Sign of the Cross near his lips. The parishioners weren’t troubled by his actions as he often paused to gather his thoughts. Age had taken its toll on his body and mind.

Outside the grounds of MacLeod House, Morrigan tended to present herself as a shadow. On this day, she made an exception. She stood in the back of the sanctuary wearing a simple, but stylish, black calf length dress, fascinator with an open mesh veil, and low heeled pumps. She looked like something out of a 1940’s fashion catalog. She remained quiet until the priest had spoken with those in the departing crowd.

When the last of his flock left, he closed the door and turned to face the woman that remained. “So, it is my time then?”
She shook her head. “No, Pádraig, not yet, but soon.”

“How soon?” he asked as he took a seat in a pew and gestured for her to do the same.

She smoothed the back of the dress before taking that seat. “At least a week. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”

“Here I was thinkin’ it was you come to guide me.”

“No, your guide is younger and,” she paused a moment, “living.”

“That’s a rarity, I haven’t heard of many that can do that.”

“The guide for you normally shepherds children. You see, there’s a special place … job on the other side if you want it.”

“Which is?”

"Your guide normally helps children that should have had more time. Perhaps, you might be able to give them the comfort you’ve given those preparing to depart.”

“What you are saying is I’d be able to continue the work I’ve done all my life.”

“You could choose to rest and have peace, Monsignor, you have earned it.”

“You, of all people, should understand even after the body stops, one’s work often doesn’t.”

“I do indeed.”

A weary smile touched the old man’s face. “How will I know her?”

“You’ve already met her. When the time comes, she’ll be here.”

“Is there anything that I can do for you?”

“I’m afraid not. I have, as the saying goes, miles to go before I sleep. Perhaps, I’ll see you once I reach the other side.”

“I’ll light a candle for you.”

“Thank you.” As she rose to leave, the priest did, in fact, light a candle, and pray for her safe passage. As she faded back to the shadows, she was taken back over ninety years when she held the hand of a frightened boy.
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