Chafe's Celidh [Dion/Misaki] May 16, 2014 21:21:46 GMT -5
Post by The Sidhe on May 16, 2014 21:21:46 GMT -5
On the edges of a bay where the North Atlantic met docks was the city of Galway. With summer on its way in, the skies were clear, clouds casting shadows between stark sunlight that lit up the streets. The late afternoon rush was in full swing, cars weaving through crowds of people as they made for home. Even with the changing seasons, there was still a bit of a chill in the air, though not too severe. Dockworkers brought the ships in for the day, the regular nine-to-five crowd stopping by groceries before making for home for dinner, others ducking into pubs for a night of drinks and laughs with their coworkers.
But Galway was merely a pit stop. The team would be given a ride out of the city in an older looking car, leaving the stark white port buildings and the smell of sea air behind for the countryside. An hour or two out of the way, their destination was acres upon acres of horse pasture, old stone walls splitting them off, the equines resisting jumping over them only out of and odd sense of obedience. The grass was vibrantly green against the sun, the air growing a tad more biting as they made their way higher up the roads. Cobblestone turned to gravel turned to dirt, slightly damp from recent rain.
Waiting for them was the very definition of an old cottage up a small drive, granted it was visibly apparent even from the main road through the rolling green hills. Built of aged looking stone and what looked to be a very recent two story addition of stark white plaster, the addition of smoke steadily rising from the chimney and a large stable around the back seemed straight out a pleasant fable. If only anything pleasant awaited them.
Out to pasture were no fewer than twenty horses in a variety of colors. Grazing and seeming perfectly calm, one or two new arrivals stuck close to their mothers, the foals occasional dashing around only to scamper back a moment later. A giveaway, though, was that none were more than a short ways from the stables. Inside, three even remained in their stables, though the doors were open for them. They were nervous about something, feeling it safer to stay close to home.
Seated on the railing was a jittery look young man, pale with a shock of scruffy looking red hair beneath a paper boy’s cap. Dark brown eyes watched for the team and their transport nervously, drumming his fingers against the old wooden planks. He’d never been so anxious in his life. Retelling what he’d seen wasn’t the issue. The issue was that the sun was setting which meant it would be back soon. Swallowing dryly, he sighed and dragged a hand over his face. “I’m too bleedin’ young for this,” he muttered quietly. A young woman popped her head out of the barn, hands grasping a sweep broom from cleaning the maps. With the same color scheme as the other, not to mention the similar facial structure of a button nose and angular jaw, it was clear the two were likely brother and sister.
“Saxon! Get down ‘ere and help me with the mats! Bailey tracked mud in all o’er them this mornin’!” At the shrill sound of her voice, the young man known as Saxon startled and rocked back, nearly falling off the rails. Turning around to shot her a look and looking visibly distressed, he yelled right back at her. “Would ye stop doin’ that? Yer gonna gimme grey hairs sneakin’ up on me like you do!” Moving his attention and his dark gaze back onto the drive, Saxon crossed his arms and took on a huffy demeanor, “’Sides, ye know I’m waitin’ on that team that’s comin’ out today, Mary.”
The young woman rolled her eyes, waving the sweep at him. “I’m tellin’ you, yer mad! You fell asleep and had a nightmare, that’s all! It happens,” she said, dismissing his claims of a monster for the third night in a row. Saxon scoffed and held his head in his hand, mumbling quietly to himself, “right, nothin’. That’s why the farm hand down the road was found ripped ‘n half and chewed up. And old man Geary. And three of our neighbors.”
“What was that?”
“Nothin’. Don’t ye got sweepin’ to do?” He cast an irritated glance Mary’s way and she mimicked him in an obnoxious voice before disappearing from view back into the stables. Sighing heavily, Saxon turned his attention back to the drive right as the car turned up the road and came to a slow stop. Raising a hand, he waved to the occupants and waited for them to meander over. “God be good, this can’t be o’er soon ‘nough.” He cast an anxious gaze out onto the moors beyond the furthest pasture, to the thicket of low bushes and leaning trees and the small brook the awful creature had leapt from. A chill went down his spine. He tried not to think about it until he had to.