Post by Caitlyn Fagan on Sept 14, 2004 16:39:40 GMT -5
All Souls Eve
Murphy:
A deep breath was taken in, he hadn’t smelt air as fresh as this since he was a little boy. Another breath was taken as boots moved down the slightly muddied cobble path. The green lands of Ireland, his home. He and Conner had gone back there after the “Boondock Saints” fiasco in Boston. Their da thought home would be the perfect place to lie low for a few years. Though he and his fraternal twin Conner still weren’t able to draw out the key info from their mam of who was the elder. She’d give them some crazy line that made both wonder if that was really there mother saying such things. On the Saint Patrick’s Day their name-sake started, she’d been so drunk she actually said which ever of the two had the larger cock. It still brought a smirk to his face thinking about Conner’s reaction, and telling him not even to start. This was one of the rare times, Murphy MacManus, was alone and doing something different than his brother. They were learning how life was run in the small town their mam lived in, where there was only one bar, The Amble, and it was run by his uncle. The young Irish would stop in there ever now and again, and he couldn’t beat the free beer from being family. It was all about family in Ireland. It had been a good rain last night, and water still clung to the grass as he walked. Coming up on a small pub he entered through the back door he pushed it open and looked around. It was nearly 10:30 in the morning, so it was empty, though locals usually didn’t leave until at least 4am or later. “’ullo…Uncle Kerin…it’s Murph, Mam sent me down ta check if ya be coming ta supper an ta bring a bottle wit ya if ya are.” Hand slid against the bars top looking behind it before he hopped over and fished out a glass and held the tab down for the Guinness. They’d only been home for nearly two weeks, and in a way he felt like he was still adjusting.
Caitlyn:
She was up before the sun, a morning girl, and a hard working Catholic too boot, Caitlyn did her best to tame her unruly locks as she pulled them into twin braids behind her ears. Church wasn’t anything to write home about, but she paid attention regardless, wondering if this new priest would move her like the one back home. Caitlyn listened to the sermon, and then before departing, knelt before the bank of candles. Bare knees pressed into the velvet cushion, and although it looked comfortable, it wasn’t. The childish part of her mind knew the real reason nuns wore long dresses… years of kneeling being the leading cause of varicose veins. But now wasn’t the time for levity, it was a time for prayer and reflection, so Caitlyn quieted her thoughts and looked up to the statue of Mary. How benevolently the mother of God looked back down. The face of the holy statue was perfectly content, wise with years of devotion to God. This gave the Irish girl a rush of pride, and she turned her head down respectfully. She lit a candle of her own and folded her hands together in prayer. The light from her green eyes blinked out as she whispered the Lord’s Prayer and as in the tradition of her family ended it with a prayer for those who had passed over into heaven. “…And may the souls of the faithful departed though the mercy of god rest in peace amen.” With that said Caitlyn drew the sign of the cross and slipped a few coins into the donation box. She wore a black knee length skirt, and a white button down blouse of simple cotton. The shirt and skirt had set her back for almost a week, but it was worth it now that she had a job. Since she had moved to Belfast, her diet consisted of handouts from the local neighbors, and her all time ‘favorite’ ketchup soup. Needless to say she was glad that she was finally starting to stand on her on two feet. Turning her wrist about to glance at her watch, her eyes widened as she realized the time. “Shite I’m late!” The door to the Amble swung open wildly and she encompassed the frame, distractedly untying a scarf from her head, “Sorry I’m late,” she blurted as she bound though the haphazardly arranged tables toward the counter. Kerin placed a meaty hand on his hip, “Lord and lady girl, you’re over a half an hour late. Yer lucky I have a soft spot for ye, else you’d find yerself turning straight back out that door.” She ducked under the counter, seemingly ignoring the comment, “You wouldn’t believe how Father Dempsy was prattling on about the damnation of his parishioners.” She noted the new face slugging down a pint, and then ducked into the back to grab an apron. “Did you get a chance to bring up the keg of stout that was delivered yesterday noon?” Caitlyn inquired as she re-entered the main room. With dexterous fingertips blindly tying a green apron about her hips, her eyes of similar hue glanced upward to the sturdy uncle. “Don’t try and change the subject girl, I didn’t hire ye for your silver-tongued gift to circumnavigate being late. And no, I didn’t. My back’s been flaring up something fierce this past week. Could you be a dear and go an git it?” She nodded, her ‘apple’ cheeks swelling with a smile. Caitlyn knew that the keg was far too heavy to bring up herself, but she didn’t have the heart to ask for help. Disappearing into the back room again, the redheaded girl lifted the cellar door and began to descend into the black pit of the cellar.
Murphy:
The young Irish shifted hopping some onto the bar to seat himself, his uncle’s pub was quite around this time, most were at sermon. He’d sat in to pray and then left before the preacher started to preach. His twin, Connor, was heading to Dublin with their Da while he’d opted to stay behind. Normally Murphy would have followed his brother anywhere, but their Mam also complained about the lack of spending time with her boys. Head shook slightly when his uncle didn’t respond to his question, but that was just they way he was, from what Murph was beginning to learn. Setting the glass down he pushed off the bar after the re-haired lass ran in explaining how she was late. He still had many people to meet, even in their small little town. A hand mussed some the dark hair atop his head before flattening it back down. His uncle had turned around to look upon him with a shake of his head “ As for you…no sitting on the bar next time.” His hands held up and he smiled slightly “What, ya aint got a ‘soft spot in yer heart’ for me Uncle?” the man chuckled and looked towards his nephew “Ya jus’ be glad your, your Mam’s son, Boyo.” He didn’t respond but looked after the direction the girl went. “Ya aint been here but a week and your already looking after trouble.” Murphy shifted hearing his uncle’s voice in his ear and looked over his shoulder. “How can a lass like here be trouble? No more trouble tan that woman who gave Connor a shot to the blarney stones, las’ Saint Patties day.” His mind almost replayed the incident after he said it. Conner and he were tight, and his reaction showed it. Murphy had decked the woman as if he would in a bar fight with a drunken man. Shoving his hands into his jean pockets he headed to the back room of the small pub.
Caitlyn:
Reaching up into the darkness her fingers felt out the string to the overhanging bulb, and after she gave it a tug the earthen floored room was lit with a waxy glow. Brushing her hands off on her apron, the petite gal ducked though the ménage of boxes and whatnot to the keg that was needed. The large wooden barrel keg was indeed cumbersome, but Cait decided to drag it up backward after strapping it to the dolly. Step by careful step she hefted the load, until breaking the opening of the opening again. She bumped into to youthful ‘saint’ and gave a yelp. “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing back here?” She plunked the barrel down onto the cement floor and resting her hands onto her hips.
Murphy:
Murphy had followed the hallway until it had opened up into the back room and the stairs that led down to the cellar. He could see the light down there but didn’t see much movement. So he shifted to look at the walls of the back room, lined up and organized with bottles. Stumbling slightly he quickly steadied himself and looked at her “Wha’ its it a sin ta explore? Besides, I figured I might give ya a hand…I haven’t got anything better ta do and my brothers off with my Da, so I’m hidin from a badgering mam here. I’m Murph, Sevil is my uncle.”<br>
Caitlyn:
“Murph… You want ta lend a hand you can start by givin’ me a bit of space. I appreciate the whole ‘Let me warm up to her by trying ta prove I’m not like all the others routine’ but go sell crazy some place else, we’re all stocked up here.” She pushed past the Bostonian and continued to drag the keg down the hallway. She wasn’t about to let anyone in, especially someone as handsome as this fella.
Murphy:
A deep breath was taken in, he hadn’t smelt air as fresh as this since he was a little boy. Another breath was taken as boots moved down the slightly muddied cobble path. The green lands of Ireland, his home. He and Conner had gone back there after the “Boondock Saints” fiasco in Boston. Their da thought home would be the perfect place to lie low for a few years. Though he and his fraternal twin Conner still weren’t able to draw out the key info from their mam of who was the elder. She’d give them some crazy line that made both wonder if that was really there mother saying such things. On the Saint Patrick’s Day their name-sake started, she’d been so drunk she actually said which ever of the two had the larger cock. It still brought a smirk to his face thinking about Conner’s reaction, and telling him not even to start. This was one of the rare times, Murphy MacManus, was alone and doing something different than his brother. They were learning how life was run in the small town their mam lived in, where there was only one bar, The Amble, and it was run by his uncle. The young Irish would stop in there ever now and again, and he couldn’t beat the free beer from being family. It was all about family in Ireland. It had been a good rain last night, and water still clung to the grass as he walked. Coming up on a small pub he entered through the back door he pushed it open and looked around. It was nearly 10:30 in the morning, so it was empty, though locals usually didn’t leave until at least 4am or later. “’ullo…Uncle Kerin…it’s Murph, Mam sent me down ta check if ya be coming ta supper an ta bring a bottle wit ya if ya are.” Hand slid against the bars top looking behind it before he hopped over and fished out a glass and held the tab down for the Guinness. They’d only been home for nearly two weeks, and in a way he felt like he was still adjusting.
Caitlyn:
She was up before the sun, a morning girl, and a hard working Catholic too boot, Caitlyn did her best to tame her unruly locks as she pulled them into twin braids behind her ears. Church wasn’t anything to write home about, but she paid attention regardless, wondering if this new priest would move her like the one back home. Caitlyn listened to the sermon, and then before departing, knelt before the bank of candles. Bare knees pressed into the velvet cushion, and although it looked comfortable, it wasn’t. The childish part of her mind knew the real reason nuns wore long dresses… years of kneeling being the leading cause of varicose veins. But now wasn’t the time for levity, it was a time for prayer and reflection, so Caitlyn quieted her thoughts and looked up to the statue of Mary. How benevolently the mother of God looked back down. The face of the holy statue was perfectly content, wise with years of devotion to God. This gave the Irish girl a rush of pride, and she turned her head down respectfully. She lit a candle of her own and folded her hands together in prayer. The light from her green eyes blinked out as she whispered the Lord’s Prayer and as in the tradition of her family ended it with a prayer for those who had passed over into heaven. “…And may the souls of the faithful departed though the mercy of god rest in peace amen.” With that said Caitlyn drew the sign of the cross and slipped a few coins into the donation box. She wore a black knee length skirt, and a white button down blouse of simple cotton. The shirt and skirt had set her back for almost a week, but it was worth it now that she had a job. Since she had moved to Belfast, her diet consisted of handouts from the local neighbors, and her all time ‘favorite’ ketchup soup. Needless to say she was glad that she was finally starting to stand on her on two feet. Turning her wrist about to glance at her watch, her eyes widened as she realized the time. “Shite I’m late!” The door to the Amble swung open wildly and she encompassed the frame, distractedly untying a scarf from her head, “Sorry I’m late,” she blurted as she bound though the haphazardly arranged tables toward the counter. Kerin placed a meaty hand on his hip, “Lord and lady girl, you’re over a half an hour late. Yer lucky I have a soft spot for ye, else you’d find yerself turning straight back out that door.” She ducked under the counter, seemingly ignoring the comment, “You wouldn’t believe how Father Dempsy was prattling on about the damnation of his parishioners.” She noted the new face slugging down a pint, and then ducked into the back to grab an apron. “Did you get a chance to bring up the keg of stout that was delivered yesterday noon?” Caitlyn inquired as she re-entered the main room. With dexterous fingertips blindly tying a green apron about her hips, her eyes of similar hue glanced upward to the sturdy uncle. “Don’t try and change the subject girl, I didn’t hire ye for your silver-tongued gift to circumnavigate being late. And no, I didn’t. My back’s been flaring up something fierce this past week. Could you be a dear and go an git it?” She nodded, her ‘apple’ cheeks swelling with a smile. Caitlyn knew that the keg was far too heavy to bring up herself, but she didn’t have the heart to ask for help. Disappearing into the back room again, the redheaded girl lifted the cellar door and began to descend into the black pit of the cellar.
Murphy:
The young Irish shifted hopping some onto the bar to seat himself, his uncle’s pub was quite around this time, most were at sermon. He’d sat in to pray and then left before the preacher started to preach. His twin, Connor, was heading to Dublin with their Da while he’d opted to stay behind. Normally Murphy would have followed his brother anywhere, but their Mam also complained about the lack of spending time with her boys. Head shook slightly when his uncle didn’t respond to his question, but that was just they way he was, from what Murph was beginning to learn. Setting the glass down he pushed off the bar after the re-haired lass ran in explaining how she was late. He still had many people to meet, even in their small little town. A hand mussed some the dark hair atop his head before flattening it back down. His uncle had turned around to look upon him with a shake of his head “ As for you…no sitting on the bar next time.” His hands held up and he smiled slightly “What, ya aint got a ‘soft spot in yer heart’ for me Uncle?” the man chuckled and looked towards his nephew “Ya jus’ be glad your, your Mam’s son, Boyo.” He didn’t respond but looked after the direction the girl went. “Ya aint been here but a week and your already looking after trouble.” Murphy shifted hearing his uncle’s voice in his ear and looked over his shoulder. “How can a lass like here be trouble? No more trouble tan that woman who gave Connor a shot to the blarney stones, las’ Saint Patties day.” His mind almost replayed the incident after he said it. Conner and he were tight, and his reaction showed it. Murphy had decked the woman as if he would in a bar fight with a drunken man. Shoving his hands into his jean pockets he headed to the back room of the small pub.
Caitlyn:
Reaching up into the darkness her fingers felt out the string to the overhanging bulb, and after she gave it a tug the earthen floored room was lit with a waxy glow. Brushing her hands off on her apron, the petite gal ducked though the ménage of boxes and whatnot to the keg that was needed. The large wooden barrel keg was indeed cumbersome, but Cait decided to drag it up backward after strapping it to the dolly. Step by careful step she hefted the load, until breaking the opening of the opening again. She bumped into to youthful ‘saint’ and gave a yelp. “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing back here?” She plunked the barrel down onto the cement floor and resting her hands onto her hips.
Murphy:
Murphy had followed the hallway until it had opened up into the back room and the stairs that led down to the cellar. He could see the light down there but didn’t see much movement. So he shifted to look at the walls of the back room, lined up and organized with bottles. Stumbling slightly he quickly steadied himself and looked at her “Wha’ its it a sin ta explore? Besides, I figured I might give ya a hand…I haven’t got anything better ta do and my brothers off with my Da, so I’m hidin from a badgering mam here. I’m Murph, Sevil is my uncle.”<br>
Caitlyn:
“Murph… You want ta lend a hand you can start by givin’ me a bit of space. I appreciate the whole ‘Let me warm up to her by trying ta prove I’m not like all the others routine’ but go sell crazy some place else, we’re all stocked up here.” She pushed past the Bostonian and continued to drag the keg down the hallway. She wasn’t about to let anyone in, especially someone as handsome as this fella.
