Sheepherder from Ireland

Log Info

Title: Sheepherder from Ireland
Emitter: None
Characters: Rioghan, Maggie
NPCs: None
Place: Rioghan's Room - Chord Hall
Time: Late Afternoon - 08/27/10
Summary: Maggie corners Rioghan in his room and gets some answers she didn't expect.

Things have been kind of busy for Maggie lately. Between work and classes and boyfriend and girl-friend, plus the additional need lately to spend more time on the other side of the portal in her room, and she's not been seen too often recently. But that did not stop her from noticing the absence of the Student Advisor, or the odd circumstances through which he left… So as she comes back from her Friday classes and heads towards her room, she notices the cracked open door and sounds coming from beyond it, and her pace slows. There is a moment where she almost knocks right away, but soon decides to continue on to her own room, dropping off her book bag before returning to the outside of Rioghan's door. Three knocks rap on the wood, Maggie 'accidentally' hitting hard enough to start the door swinging open. "Ry? You around, sword-boy?"

As that door 'accidentally' swings open a bit farther, Maggie gets a glimpse of the young man in question. Rioghan is presently standing at an open dresser drawer. His hair is damp, cargo shorts dripping, and by the looks of the boot-shaped puddles on the floor so are his shoes. There's a shirt laying on the floor in a soggy puddle at his feet, which leaves his upper body bare. A quartet of pale white scars trail from his left shoulder and down to about his mid-back; claw-marks by the look of them. He turns upon hearing the familiar voice, and before he pulls the fresh shirt he has in hand over his head, Maggie can catch sight of the necklace he's wearing. It is definitely another magical talisman and probably only serves to add more intrigue to questions she may have, but then the shirt is tugged over to cover it. "Aye, Maggie, I'm here."

There's a very slight arch to Maggie's brow as she catches a glimpse of the scars and the necklace, and once Rioghan has acknowledged her presence, she steps over the threshold and into his room. The door is kicked shut casually, Maggie insuring she hears the click of the latch before she steps away. That neigh-to-unreadable emerald gaze sweeps over the small puddles on the floor, then Rioghan himself. "I didn't notice that it had rained." Probably because it hasn't. "Back from your business trip, then?"

"Sprinkler went off at the bookstore in town," Rioghan says, without giving any details. He tugs at the hem of his shirt a bit leans back against the dresser, eyeing Maggie much as once might a potential sparring partner. "Aye, back for a few days now. Are you and Camille settlin' in to your new home alright?"

Maggie crosses her arms under her chest and leans back heavily against the wall, a light smirk appearing at his explanation. Hey, it could be true! Probably a lot more to it than that, but it could be true. "Mmhmm, just fine, thanks." She glances him over again and her smirk deepens just a little, head tilting off to the side. "Your shorts are still dripping, you know. Might wanna take care of that."

"An would you be wantin' to 'help' with that too, like you wanted t'help with the shower?" Rioghan asks. He's trying not to blush at the suggestion. Trying and failing miserably. It's not proper, but he squares his shoulders and turns to open up another drawer and grab a pair of jeans out of it. What was it that Jack had suggested? Show them who's boss? Except he'd used all of that bizarre American slang and Rioghan is only sort of piecing together what his fellow SA and Steranko Senior meant. "Was there somethin' specific you were wanting to ask of me, Maggie?" he asks, getting to the point, "You had ta come into my room for a reason, more than to comment on the amount of water in my clothes."

Help? Maggie grins in that wicked, devilish kind of way she does. "Well, only if you feel you need some help with it. I don't want to be held responsible for you catching your death of cold, after all." And this time when she looks him up and down, it's far more luridly. Good luck one-upping this girl. Specific? Her head straightens as she regards him. "Who were those people who took you off? What was the real reason you left? And what's with the necklace?" Her lips twist into a smirk. "Specific enough for you? I could always go back to asking you to drop your pants."

Rioghan mutters something to himself in his native tongue, shaking his head. He tosses the jeans onto his bed and lifts a foot up to start removing his boots at least. "No, I don't believe I'll be needing that kind of help," Rioghan says, using the removal of shoes to hide any further embarassment over the notion. It's also a good means of attempting to hide his expression at how blunt Maggie is. He can appreciate it on the one hand and on the other, it's just another reason that she makes him uncomfortable. "Kinfolk, relatives," Rioghan says.

It's mostly the truth. One was his Aunt, who he didn't realize had survived. "And I left because we had some matters to discuss with one another." He brings a hand up to where the necklace is safely tucked under his shirt and lowers it back. One boot is tugged off and tossed in the corner, leaving him in a wet sock, which he stands on to balance while removing the other boot. "A token from home. Am I answererin' your questions for you, then Maggie?" Blue eyes peer up towards the girl, a bit of a challenge.

"No? Pity. I'd love to see what you hide under the armor. Might even return the favor." Yes, she is fully aware she embarrasses him. It's most of the reason she says any of this! The other reason? .. Well, Maggie is shameless. Completely and utterly. She watches him go about his business with a little more attention than is really necessary, and when he seeks to know how he's answering things, she smirks at him and straightens up. "Not really. You're dodging, and offering bare minimums, but that's pretty much what I expected." She sighs dramatically, then wonders aloud, "Perhaps Mr. Murphy will be more forthcoming, once he knows how aware I am of your dirty little secret."

Rioghan reacts to that quickly enough. The second boot is dropped with a thud and he straightens up. His entire posture changes almost as dramatically as it did the first time the witch cornered him in his room like this. This time, though, it's an authoritative stance and he points a finger at Maggie. "Don't you go talkin' to Mr. Murphey as though you know anything about either of us," Rioghan says, "There's nothin' dirty involved. Just things that shouldn't be gettin' out, but may have already. You don't know what or who you're messin' with."

"Somebody already tried to put a knife in my chest today, so if you think a few threatenin' words about runnin' to Mr. Murphey are goin' to intimidate me you've another thing comin' to you," Rioghan says. There is definitely quite a bit of fire beneath that facade of his. No, he's definitely not some unassuming farm boy.

"You're right, I don't really know, because you won't tell me. Considering you seem under the impression that whatever I am has something to do with whatever you are, with.. destroying your home or whatever, can you see where maybe I have a slight problem with that?" Maggie arches a brow above emerald eyes as she calls him out on this, not seeming intimidated by his sudden change in manner or the fire in his voice. He is not what he seems, certainly, but neither is she. "See, like that. Why? Did you save an old lady from a purse snatching, or is somebody just trying to kill you? And why?"

"Because I don't know if I can trust you!" Rioghan snaps out, "Or not you but…" He frowns, frustration evident and closes his eyes to draw a breath in. When he opens his eyes again they're clear and bright and he fixes them on Maggie. "I can see where you would have a problem with that Maggie Kirkaldy," he lilts out in a softer tone, "but it's not a simple thing to explain. Aye, someone is trying to kill me, and it's my own problem to be dealing with because of who am I, who my parents were, an' where I'm from." Ireland? His parents. The boy does decently well at dodging questions and giving just enough answers to make someone have even more questions. He just needs to work on his lying a bit more instead and these sorts of situations might be more easily avoided.

Maggie's eyes narrow. "Let's get one thing straight, once and for all, okay? ME, 'Maggie Kirkaldy', is all there is. I know all about having something stuck in your soul, trying to make you into what you're not, and that is not what is happening here. Girl, demon, witch, use whatever damn word you want, it's all just me." And with that little bone of contention once again aired out, Maggie straightens, pushing herself away from the wall and taking a step closer to him. "Sounds pretty simple to explain to me. Who are you? Who are your parents? Where are you from?" He's hardly had a chance to say anything at all when she points a finger at him and says in a most annoyed tone, "And if you say you're a sheep-herder from Ireland, I'll break that damn sword over your head."

There's a flash of fire in the young man's blue eyes. One might almost expect to hear him challenge her with an 'I'd like to see you try!' remark. Instead he pushes off of the dresser and meets her head on. "You want to know who I am so badly, witch?" he asks choosing that term out of the ones she's offered. He reaces a hand to tug the amulet out from beneath his shirt, wrapping his fingers around it. "Spiorad na cosanta," he says in his native tongue. There's a silvery blue light that begins filtering out from the cracks between his fingers. It wraps itself around the young man. Should Maggie also glance across the room, the same silvery light shimmers around his armor, the bow and quiver of arrows, and one of his swords. As they vanish from their designated places in the room, they reappear on Rioghan's person.

"Rioghan Nuada De Danann Mac Cionaoith, son of Queen Aislin Macha De Danann, heir to the throne of Chiarrai," he says lowering his hand from the amulet. "You might be more familiar with it as Tír na nÓg, because that's what more people in your world know it by. Whatever you call it, it's presently lost to shadow." The young man does smile in a way that is quite nearly impish as e looks at Maggie with a lifted eyebrow. He delivers the following in a dead-pan tone, "And I'm a sheep-herder from Ireland."

Maggie does her best to hide a smirk as she finds herself confronted, and it only deepens when he calls her a witch. So quick to fire! He really ought to watch that, but she doesn't feel like pointing it out just yet. Not when it's so very useful. The display of power draws her brows upward as it is quite unexpected, but more so is all the Celtic mythology suddenly being thrown at her. .. Well, not mythology, she supposes, given he presents it as facts of his life. The words 'son' and 'Queen' in such damn close proximity also make those brows go up a little more.. though the last words out of his mouth pull them back down, a smirk appearing on her lips. "Smart-ass." Straightening, she crosses her arms under her chest and tilts her head off to the side. "So, wait, lemme get this straight.. The big secret is.." Her lips twitch, the grin barely repressed as she says, "You're a fairy Prince?" Sorry, couldn't help herself! "Lost to shadow? That's ridiculous. You can't close off a whole world, that's too big, too complicated. You mean your gateway is shut, right?" Her eyes roll. "Well that's easy. I could open another one." No, sorry, the idea that anyone has enough power to isolate a whole REALITY is simply beyond Maggie's scope of comprehension at the moment.

Rioghan doesn't quite get what's funny about it, but then the modern world's take on what fairies and elves are is rather different from what it once was. His lips drop into a slight frown and his brow furrows. "Fae, Fair Folk, Elves… I'm more Elf by the contemporary references I've seen or read. I don't have wings or fuilteacha pixie dust. None of us do," he says, "and in any case we prefer Tuatha." An elvin archer. As if that's not a cliche! But cliches are cliche for a reason. He crosses his arms over his chest. "I hope it's not so easy," Rioghan says, "because of what's waitin' on the other side now. Aye, it's shut. My mother shut it herself after seein' as many of our people to safety as was possible. It's sealed so that none of those things can get out an' no more of their friends can get in."

"Okay, okay, sorry Legolas," Maggie grins at him, even as her hands lift in mock apology. "You know, when I was a little girl, I always wanted to be a fairy PrinCESS." The grin only widens, and if she could purposefully give it fangs, she would. After heaving a great sigh she tsks in disappointment and shakes her head. "Well that's lame. No fluttering about, no twinkling magic dust? Do you even need me to clap for you? Are you at least gay?" SHE CAN'T STOP! It's just too freakin' easy!! But the more Maggie heaps on, the closer she looks to laughter, and that just won't do. He might break his sword over her head! Besides, what he goes on to say sucks a bit of the humor right out of her. "Waitwait.. Your mother.. Shut off a whole other /plane of existence/ from being accessed through the ether?" She frowns, starting to let this sink in but at the same time rebelling from the very idea. "Did we not establish that I prefer silence over lies? Poking a hole through the veil, sewing the hole back up again, that happens every day. What you're talking about, it's.. it's.." Her head shakes once before she just studies him, that look of disbelief really starting to sink in. "…. Christ. You aren't lying, are you."

"Legolas?" Rioghan asks, the reference lost on the otherwordly young man. He's not joking there either, he really doesn't follow. Maybe it's some slang apologetic term that he's missed, but he doesn't think so. It has more the sound of a name. "Who's Legolas?" As Maggie continues, clearly mocking him, the young man's jaw sets and he squares his shoulders. He actually looks like he's considering pulling out his sword to break over her head for a moment. "I don't need applause from you and no, I am not gay," he says, shaking his head at the girl. Hey! One of the cute ones who isn't batting for the other team! His expression is quite serious at this point and he nods once to confirm Maggie's statement. "She did." His eyes drift away from Maggie's face for a moment, finding a spot on the floor to look at. A puddle left from his soggy boots. "An praghas ar an saol féin…" he says quietly. He meets Maggie's gaze again. "No, Maggie, I am not lying."

"Gay pirate," Maggie answers, without missing a beat. "Read Lord of the Rings sometime." So. He has just confirmed for her that his mother has done the single most impressive magical feat she has ever heard of, said something in a damn foreign language, and looks suddenly all far away and thoughtful, and what is it Maggie chooses to latch on to first? That he's not gay. She grins softly and leans in, reaching a hand out to touch fingers to the hard metal breastplate he's standing in. "Good to know. I think your shorts are still wet, you know. The longer this goes on, the more I think you really do need help with them." One fingernail taptaptaps at the metal under it. "I'm going to start keeping the Babel fish in my ear when you're around, you know. All this Gaelic crap is annoying. So.. Exactly how much begging do I need to do to meet this incredibly powerful mother of yours?"

Rioghan blinks down at Maggie's hand as she taps the metal breastplate. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, but he manages to resist the urge to take a step back from her. The tap-tapping of her fingernail is unsettling. He really doesn't want to show just how uneasy it makes him. But all that unease over her forwardness and lack of propriety is banished at her request. "You can't meet her," he says. He moistens his lips and brings up a hand to wrap around Maggie's to stop the tapping. He's quiet for a long moment, just standing there holding Maggie's hand in place and meeting her emerald gaze. Finally he speaks again, the words quieter, "You can't meet her because she died three years ago sealing up the gateway between our worlds."

Mark the occasion, because it's a rarity: Maggie Kirkaldy has absolutely nothing flippant to say. A brow arched when he put his hand over hers, though she makes no effort to remove it, but when he tells her just why her request is being denied all the humor and forwardness just drop right out of her face. For a moment there is surprise, then.. sympathy? .. No, nothing so pitying. This is empathy, for a pain Maggie knows very well. "I'm sorry," she tells him with more sincerity than anything she has said to him up to this point, in any of their conversations. And suddenly it becomes more understandable to her how this woman managed to pull off such a feat. "She must have been an incredible person." Also sincere. Maggie is not one for lip-service or hollow sentiment. Anyone who would give their life for such an act, to protect what she obviously loved, must have been one hell of a woman.

Rioghan moistens his lips and inclines his head slightly, "Thank you. She… she was." He draws in a breath, causing both of their hands to rise where he has hers held against his chest. His fingers untwine from their grip on hers gradually. It's clear that he cared for his mother, and that he recognizes the mutual pain that reflects in Maggie's eyes. Maybe the witch isn't so bad. "It was powerful magic she used, but not permanant. The best she could do was give us time. The gateway will open back up eventually… and it will have to be sealed again to keep the creatures from taking this world too." And it's an unspoken implication that he's the one that will have to close it.

Clearing his throat he pulls back from the redheaded sorceress and reaches up to clasp the amulet again, murmuring, "Críochnaithe." The silvery blue magical light returns as it did before, but this time it all seems to pull back into the amulet rather than flow out of it. The armor and weapons return to their homes around his room, leaving the young man once more in his soggy socks and dripping cargo shorts. "As you said, my shorts are still wet an' I need to be changing into something dry." Seems to be an attempt to end the conversation. It may or may not work, but you can't blame the boy for trying.

The implication is unspoken, certainly, but dire indeed. Maggie's hand stays where it is even after he releases it if only because she is no longer entirely conscious of its position. At least, not until Rioghan steps back, and it drops once again to her side. Frowning as her brows knit, she wants to say something about how that's not right, that nobody should ask him to do something like that, that alternatives must be available considering all the time they've had to plan, but.. For once, she feels like it's not her place to say such things. Surely he knows it all, that a Prince is not going to be sacrificed if they can find an alternative.. Right? Her gaze shifts towards the amulet, then down at his drippy self for just a moment. Surely there is a forthcoming offer of aid, or attempt to stick around when he changes? "Right. I'll leave you to it, then." That said she begins to turn towards his door, ready to make her exit. "See you around, Tink." … Well, she couldn't just leave on a completely serious note, right?

Rioghan moves to pick up the jeans he had earlier tossed on the bed, watching Maggie as she moves for the door. He turns his back to the door, frowning slightly to himself that he's actually just shared all of that with yet another person. As Maggie reaches the door and calls him 'Tink', the young man turns to reguard her over his shoulder raising a puzzled eyebrow. "Aye, see you around…" He waits a beat, possibly for her to shut the door behind herself before asking rhetorically of no one, "Tink?"

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