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Chapter 87: Sea Fair, See Despair

Liam was brought back to the present by Muireann's gasp. She glared and went to slam the door as she snarled, "I said I never wanted to see him!"

Luke merely raised his paw straight out in front of him and the door bounced off of it. It didn't even seem to move his arm in the slightest; he was much stronger than Ruarc ever was, at least physically. "O'Conall, I brought him here to speak with you. You will see him."

Muireann growled and ran down the hall toward the back of her suite, but she had gone nought more than a few paces before Luke manifested and sealed it off with a slab of rock.

She was now trapped in the front portion of her home with them. She beat the stone slab with her delicate paws in frustration as she sobbed. Each sob was punctuated with a soft, "Go away."

Alpha McDougal remained in his manifest state and sat on the couch in the living room. "I guess you know who this is, then. He requested intervener status and I granted it to him."

She slumped to floor, apparently exhausted. "He's dead."

Liam closed the door and put the kettle on before joining the alpha in the living room. "Muir..." His voice was quiet and easily drowned out by a heartbroken wail.

"No!" The sound of raw grief was mixed with an almost accusatory note. "You can't be him; he said I could see him in the afterlife! We'd never have to be apart again!"

Liam went over and placed a paw on her shoulder, but she stiffened up immediately. Her head snapped over and her wild eyes locked onto his. Her fur rippled and became darker, except the crest of each ripple remained the same pale blue-grey. She went to push him as hard as she could and Liam let her. He rolled backwards twice before letting the momentum bring him back to his hindpaws.

She shrieked up at him, "You aren't Daddy! You can't be! He was always so big and strong. The most handsome Spirit I've ever seen and you... You... Daddy's dead!"

Liam thought wryly, 'Apparently I am no longer handsome.' He noticed Alpha McDougal was hiding a smirk. With Lowell resting once more, Liam walked toward the kitchen to fetch the tea. "Calm yourself. Let us discuss this once the tea is prepared."

"Get out!" She continued to yell, though the remainder was incoherent. Her hysterics were gathering momentum and it was apparent that Alpha McDougal was beginning to steam.

This was best dealt with now, before either Spirit did something untoward. He spun back to her and adopted Lowell's voice. His deep voice punched through the shrillness of her caterwauling. "Muireann O'Conall! Stop that noise this instant! You're a grown woman, not a lass of two! Don't make me silence you!"

Luke and Muireann both recoiled, and the Earth Spirit's soft question was loud in the sudden quiet. "Lowell, that's a bit...rash. You don't need to kill her over a bit of noise."

"Luke, I can stop some foolish tantrum without killing her; I can prevent someone from speaking easily enough. Hera knows I've had to do that to her on more than one occasion. Muireann O'Conall, get up off the floor and sit on a chair like a proper Spirit. Now!"

She stood up, eyes wide and haunted, and numbly moved over to an armchair. She refused to look at him; she merely sat there like some tormented statue.

He shook his head and quickly went to pull the barely warmed kettle off the stove. He'd best deal with this emotional crisis before fetching the tea. Pity he didn't have Lorie's biscuits. He turned off the heat and returned to the living room; he'd make the tea later, if possible. He sat back down by Luke. "Muiry."

She flinched away and huddled in her chair as far from him as she could get, her eyes glazed and obviously scared. She knelt sideways on the chair and had her back turned toward them as she clutched the back of the chair. A soft, droning whine came from her, nearly constant apart from the soft break as she inhaled. The sound of his voice was obviously too great a shock to her system after a week of near-solitary confinement and possibly other longstanding emotional problems.

He slowly drew up the bag containing her gifts. Her eyes flicked toward it, then away as she saw his tan paw instead of the lustrous grey it should have been. Liam kept from shaking his head; he was having trouble keeping in control. It may even be less taxing if he allowed Lowell to remain dominant for the time being rather than involuntarily jumping from one to the other. He settled for allowing the echo of Lowell to speak, but retaining awareness of the current situation and time. He made sure to use his normal voice -- Liam's voice, not Lowell's -- as that may otherwise compound the current problem, though Lowell's patterns and inflections would inevitably win out.

He settled the bag beside him and pulled out the first gift. 'Twas a doll. Muiry's eyes widened and she stared openly at it, making Lowell smile. She shifted in her seat so her legs were folded up beside her and she was looking at it directly. Lowell held it on his lap letting her clearly see the small porcelain-faced Lioness. She seemed completely entranced.

He'd had to search high and low in many antique shops to find this doll; it had been impossible to obtain Canid dolls in 1874, yet the young Wolf had loved this one dearly. His voice was warm. "Ah, my beautiful little Muiry recognizes this. 'Twas your favourite doll -- well, a copy of the one you smashed in a fit of rage when you were ten. I refused to let Lorie replace it, but I thought it appropriate to give this to you now."

It happened after she had eventually found Ciaran late in the evening on the day she'd said she hated her brother. She returned home to find Lorie just finishing up her cleaning from the cancelled party. Lorie had been livid with Muiry, and Muiry was already in a foul temper of her own. The ten year-old threw another tantrum and got an extremely rare slap. Lorie then ripped the stained dress from her daughter, leaving her in her shift, and tossed the dress into the fireplace before sending the stunned girl to her room. The doll wasn't the only thing destroyed in the ensuing tempest, but Muiry was the one who'd suffered for their loss.

Her voice became high-pitched and childlike and sent shivers of fear up Lowell's spine. "It's my dolly. You fixed it." She shook her head. Her voice returned to that of an adult, one full of hurt and feelings of betrayal. "No. No, you didn't fix my doll or anything else a young child broke in a fit of anger. Anger Mama and you caused by your constant yelling, lectures, and near-abandonment. The only time you ever said two words to me, just me, was when you were yelling at me for some little thing, or lecturing me about some stupid O'Conall shit! How often did my daddy actually spend time with me without being late because of one my siblings, or leaving early for them, or spending time talking to them when they interrupted the little attention I got!?" She seemed to notice she inferred he was Lowell_._ She grabbed the lamp off the table beside her and threw it at him. "You aren't my daddy! Get out!" Tears ran down her face even as her eyes still didn't seem to be focusing properly.

Lowell caught the lamp and put it aside. He left the doll on his lap and pulled out the next gift as an answer. It was a boar-bristle paintbrush, signed 'To my beautiful Muireann, Love Daddy,' and he had used the remnants of the ink from Ciaran's coat to enchant it to remain in pristine condition. It had a pink bow on it, the same shade as the ribbon that Muireann used to wear on her tail when she was little. In fact, the same shade as almost everything in the room. Gods, what hideous decor; he ignored it for the moment.

Instead he held up the brush. "Lorie said that you haven't painted in a long time. You have a great gift, Muiry; it's a shame to waste it. I used to enjoy those hours I spent sitting and painting with you, or teaching you how to play the violin. It's a pity you stopped playing as a teenager. I always thought you could've had a great career playing the violin or painting."

"I never thought I'd be allowed to because you..." She shook her head angrily. "...Daddy, which isn't you, always said it was too dangerous and that I wasn't ever allowed to have my Season in Town to be introduced at Court. I was a prisoner here; only the alpha's chosen few were ever allowed out."

"I...what?" Lowell was stunned. He never thought he gave that impression; sure he told his pups they couldn't go to London with him, but that was because it was too dangerous to have pups around when playing 'seek and slay' with the Knights and Hunters. "Once we had some funds coming in I bought a boarding house in Carrigaline so any pup who wanted could go to school. I was always encouraging the four of you to go to university. You remember how upset I was when Aoife couldn't find a university to take her. I-I even had papers for conservatories in Prague, Vienna, Paris, and Berlin! I showed the application papers to you and talked about how much you'd enjoy studying painting or music there. Vienna was one of the most beautiful cities I've ever seen; you would've loved it! I said that!"

"But not London. Not with you."

Lowell growled and rubbed his muzzle. "No, not London. London was a very dangerous place for Spirits, and the wealth I was building up so quickly for the clan was making me a lot of enemies. Enemies that wouldn't have hesitated to hold you hostage. You must've seen all the scars I had when you were caring for me. Those weren't caused by accidents, lass."

"I wanted to be with you, not in Vienna or Paris. You brought Ciaran to London with you dozens of times. Why was it too dangerous for me but not him?" She was pouting the way she was wont to do, her old jealousies coming back up.

This was not the conversation he wanted to be having. "Because, Muiry, he was the only one of you halfway capable of listening to orders and staying safe! Aoife would've gone haring across the city with nary a thought on how to find her way back. Aedan..." He broke off with a growl and threw his paws up. "Hera help me, sweetie. I would've loved to bring you to London and see you wipe the smug smiles off those sanctimonious bigots at Almacks. I was the only Wolf there for just about every ball and to have you walk in and stun them with your radiance would've given me more pleasure than you can imagine. But Lord Hades himself would have had to appear before me with assurances you'd be safe before I'd consider bringing you into cannon range of that nest of Hunters."

"I would've listened! Don't you dare say Ciaran was a better child than I was!" She pounded the arms of her chair before crossing them to glare sidewise at him, her head turned away with nose pointed up.

"If I told you to jump in the Thames to hide from Hunters, would you have jumped or fussed about your dress for ten minutes?" They both knew the answer to that.

"It's not fair!" She jumped to her hindpaws after her exclamation of disgust. She pointed dramatically and accusingly at him. "It's always about Ciaran! You're always comparing me to him, always giving him special treatment, and always spending more time with him!"

Lowell pulled out the last gift, refusing to let his frustration show. It was an older hardcover copy of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. "Would you be willing to spend more time with me, now? I never got to hear you finish the book; I'd like to know what happened." He saw Luke wince at that.

Muireann started crying, deep heaving sobs that almost prevented Lowell from understanding her. She was trembling hard enough that Lowell was afraid she'd fall over, but she held her paws out to ward him off as he went to stand. "The f-father died a-and lef-ft his little g-girl all alone. Th-the end. There was-s no c-coming back, no chance t-to hear the truth, n-no one to g-give her away at-t her wedding, no grandfather to hold his grandchild, nothing! My d-daddy died! Please, j-just go!"

Lowell stood up, desperately wanting to console her. "Muiry..."

Her voice was hoarse and still broken by sobs. "G-Go aw-way. Please, j-just leave m-me alone."

Luke stood up, too. "Leave her be, Lowell. Come back later."

"Very well." Liam stood up and put the doll on the mantle. "I'll be back in an hour. Why don't you have a bath and compose yourself." He gestured at Luke, who removed the stone slab blocking them off from the Muireann's private rooms, including the bathroom. "We still have a lot to discuss." They began walking out of her suite when he paused. "I'll see you soon, sweetie."

She remained where she was, trembling and crying, and didn't respond.

An hour later Liam left Aoife's home and returned to Muireann's alone. Alpha McDougal had to return to his office aboveground, so he'd taken Aedan as his bodyguard to the surface. Liam had not noticed at the time that no one, not even Alpha McDougal, seemed to realize that Liam had been entrusted with the role of bodyguard on the trip down. While Lowell had frequently assumed that responsibility with Ruarc it was most perplexing that it did not seem to strike anyone as odd that he, who no longer belonged to the Clan, was given that same responsibility.

In any event, Alpha McDougal had to deal with the concerns several Spirits had about some will-o'-wisps that had led them astray last night. It was deemed pressing enough that Alpha McDougal had left Liam alone to speak with Muireann. That and Alpha McDougal felt that this had devolved into a family matter, and he was in the way.

He knocked softly on the door and called out, "Muireann? It's Liam Smith. I would speak with you." There was no answer.

Ciaran opened his door, which was the next closest to Muireann's, and walked over to him. "She's been very quiet, Da. Quite the change from when you were in with her. She's had it in her head that I was your favourite for a long time. She hated it."

"I did not have favourites, Ciaran. I valued each of you, in different ways to be sure, but you each had traits I loved. You are all my child..." He sighed. "...were all my children." Liam rubbed his temples. "It's difficult to remember I'm dead...Lowell is dead. I am no longer Lowell." He growled softly and changed the subject. "She has bathed?"

Ciaran nodded. "Yes, Da. The pipes run between our walls. There's no way I could miss her drawing the bath."

Good. That meant she was still obedient when given a properly timed order, even if she was not aware of it. With Muireann it was all about phrasing and timing. She was the most difficult to control. Aoife was wild and full of energy, but when told to do something, she would. It did not matter when or how she was told. With Muireann...

Ciaran smiled faintly as he continued to talk. "You may have died, but you're still Da. I was looking for you for a long time."

Liam hid his wince. "I am sorry, Ciaran. I did tell you not to look for me, that I had no idea when or where I would be reborn. While the trend is toward a smaller hiatus in my existence it could still have been a much longer gap than it ended up being."

Liam was getting annoyed at the lack of answer from his daughter. He was right on time, yet she was nowhere to be found. "I cannot sense her chi. She must be in her bedroom."

"I can't hear her either." Ciaran glanced toward him from the corner of his eyes as he switched the subject back. "You could've sent word sooner than you did, Da. I heard rumours you were back when your sword and cane were shipped out, though no one would tell me where they were shipped."

Liam's voice was dry as he addressed his son's complaint. "Indeed I could have sent word earlier. Look how well my appearance has been received as-is. How much better would it have been received had I sent word when I was ten? Or seven? Or five? I had told you my feelings on mixing lives like this, of how it would likely cause too many problems."

Ciaran gave a soft whimper that was immediately cut off. He still sounded hurt as he asked, "You...regret seeing us again?"

Liam turned from Muiry's door and hugged his son, surprising him. "No! Not at all." Liam felt Ciaran tentatively wrap his arms around him before returning the tight embrace. "I am greatly pleased to have seen you again, all of you. It...has not been easy," he said regretfully, "and I hope it ends well, but it has generally been a delight."

Ciaran released Liam and stepped away. "I shouldn't be here when, or if, she finally answers the door. My presence might provoke her. I haven't been eavesdropping, but I couldn't help but hear some of what's been said. She's said some...unkind things, Da. She resents us and the clan. Can you change a century of bitterness and hatred in a few conversations? It sounded like she's just saying the same things she always does."

"I do not know, Ciaran, but I have to try. I could not live with myself if I did not try, and an eternity of being unable to live with oneself but being unable to die is an unwelcome prospect. Now, I must do as much as I can, soon. My chi is running low again and I have much difficult work to do. I will speak to you later this evening or tomorrow before I leave."

"Yes, Da." Ciaran returned home.

Liam rubbed his forehead again and sighed. It appeared the Fates had some grudge against his friends and him. That was a most uncomfortable enmity to have. He knew, however, that the Fates so very rarely deigned to consider mere mortals as worth having a grudge against and that his whining was just that: whining with no credence. 'Except I am not mortal,' his complaining inner voice said, only to be countered by his pious one. 'Beware hubris.' He told them both to shut up and knocked on the door.

There was no answer. He checked the door and was unsurprised to find it locked. He sent a trickle of chi through the door handle as he jiggled it and made the tumblers move into place, unlocking the door. He entered Muireann's home.

"I am entering, Muireann." He cautiously entered her home. She did not have the training or practice Ciaran did with thrown weaponry, but it did not pay to underestimate anyone.

Mages were right on this matter; Spirits could be unpredictable and violent, and it paid to be cautious when dealing with highly emotional ones. They did not say how that was true of anyone when cornered or long-imprisoned; the Spirits were both and had been for centuries. It had begun having noticeable effects during the Industrial Revolution, primarily after the Unseelie War, and was now reaching a breaking point. It also served to stifle cultural and social advancement, which was what was causing Geoff and possibly Muireann their grief.

She was not in the living room, kitchen, or dining room. Liam put the kettle back on before moving to the private rooms. The bath was recently drained and her dressing gown hung on the door. He could now hear her in her bedroom.

"Muireann? Should you still be dressing I shall await you in the living room." There was no answer, but Liam let it be.

He returned to the living room to ensure the doll was still on the mantle and the book on the coffee table, before placing the brush on the side table beside the armchair. He noted with distaste that there were lace doilies everywhere and pink throws on much of the furniture. He had seen it earlier, but he had not noted the entirety of the...unpleasantness of it due to his distraction. Perhaps that was why she had become divorced and was still unwed; she had displeased the goddess of beauty and love with such a horrifyingly garish display.

He was just steeping the tea in the (pink) teapot when Muireann sulkily entered the living room. "Do you still take a spot of cream and dollop of honey in your tea, Muireann?" He opened the fridge to find the cream.

There was an extended pause before she said, "Yes."

"Would that not be, 'Yes, please'?"

Again the pause. "Yes, please." From the sound of it she was by the mantle.

He brought out a tray with the teapot and two cups of tea, already poured. He placed them upon the coffee table and sat, waiting for her to sit as well, or at least speak.

She was indeed by the mantle, staring transfixed at the doll. She was freshly bathed; her pale blue-grey fur was still slightly damp and smelt of lavender. The lighting where she stood made it appear darker than its normal near-white, closer to the colour of the Atlantic than sea foam. Her dress was exquisite: a tight bodice of teal with periwinkle accents leading into a loose skirt. It was of newer design, lacking all the layers and lace that he was used to seeing her in, but it was a marked improvement over an hour ago. Truthfully, it would not suffer when compared to the older dresses.

He stood and walked over to her. On the way it occurred to him that it may help keep the emotions at a lower level if he became more formal and established a bit of separation. "Do you wish for me to fasten the last button, Ms. O'Conall? Or did you keep Torcan's name?"

She sounded very tired. "O'Conall. Why are you formal, all of a sudden?"

Liam did up the last button. "I thought you may prefer it." He took her paw and led her to her seat, then passed her a cup of tea. "It can make things simpler. Less confusing." He moved the book aside before picking up his cup of tea.

She flinched when she saw the book and kept her eyes up off the table, as he intended. "Thank you. For the button."

He hoped the book would serve as a subtle reminder, yet not be as 'forceful' as hearing Lowell speak. "You are most welcome, miss. Is the tea to your liking?" He took a small sip of his own. He hated adding anything to tea -- it seemed sacrilegious -- but he was forced to add honey to his own, as he wished to be able to drink it.

She took a small drink and nodded, then went to put it down on the side table. She had to move the paintbrush aside to do so and noticed the inscription. It was how he signed the note on each gift he had given her as Lowell, and in the same script. She flinched and a bit of tea slopped into her saucer. "You aren't Daddy."

"Not anymore, no. Lowell is indeed dead, but he is not gone. All that he was is in me. I love you now as I did then. I remember each minute as vividly today as when they happened. Each joy and each regret. For which I must thank you and apologize. I am sorry, Ms. O'Conall, for leaving you and deceiving you."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Why...?"

He smiled wanly and took another sip of tea. "Because I was old. I lived a hard life, Ms. O'Conall. You saw me only at leisure, not working. It took great effort, great physical effort, to build what you now enjoy. It eventually caught up to me. And also because I was afraid. I love you and the thought of you turning on me as others have in the past scared me more than you can imagine. It would be as if you told me, pardon, Lowell a deep secret, one that was of a situation beyond your control that had been eating at you for years and I...he turned on you in the most cruel fashion, to the point that he constantly reminded you that you were no longer his daughter."

"You said you weren't Daddy anymore. I was just saying what you told Faelen to tell us." She folded her arms and turned her head, obviously conflicted and in great pain. "I-I--" She raised her voice to slightly louder than conversational levels as if trying to reinforce her position to herself. "--just want to know why you're here. Just tell me what that dictator wants."

At least there was a little progress. "As you wish, miss. The duly elected leader of the Cork Clan wishes to have some assurances that you will keep silent about the nature of your pedigree, the nature of my relationship with Faelen O'Conall, and the matters surrounding Faelen's birth. In short, say nothing about my being an Ancient One or about the three of us -- Dirk, Faelen, and myself -- being gay. He will want a very powerful oath to prove your sincerity."

She gave a sharp bark of a laugh. "Hah! Why should I? To protect the O'Conall legacy? To keep the clan from tearing itself apart? Didn't Daddy keep lecturing us about the importance of laws and order? Those broken laws that I'm being told to keep silent about now? You and Dirk broke the strictest laws we have! I hope the clan tears itself apart and drags Ireland down with it!" Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "If I don't swear to silence I'll die; if I do, I'll still die. I can't live like this, Daddy. I want to die_._ I hate it here. It's killing me. I hate the clan. I hate the rules, the fear, the despair, the...the everything. The whole atmosphere is toxic with this sense of impending doom, like the Hunters, or Society, or even just the sheer weight of the Furs' population is just going to sweep over us and wipe us out. You were the only hope and light I had, and you're a fraud. You died and I wanted to die; then you came back and everything I thought I knew was a lie." Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Her face twisted up as she attempted to not break down again. "Please, just give me time. I-I can't think with you here."

"Muiry, my beautiful--"

He was cut off by a scream of despair and anger. "Get out!" She grabbed the brush and threw it at him, which he easily caught and slipped into his pocket. Her teacup fell from her limp fingers and smashed loudly on the floor. "Damn you and damn the whole clan!" She hiccupped and whispered, "And damn me, too."

Liam sighed sadly and briefly met her eyes. He nodded and slipped out of her room to give her time. As he passed by the fountain in the centre of the courtyard on his way to see Lorena, in hopes that she could comfort their distraught daughter, he felt Ciaran's energy slip through the ducts and enter Muireann's room.

---

Geoff sat on the grass looking out over the Atlantic. Nathanial was near the edge of the cliffs with Gwen talking about the different layers of rock and what they might mean about the climate and...stuff. Boring things.

They had finished their walk about forty-five minutes ago, and Nathanial suggested they take Gwen and look at the cliffs. His mom was really keen on the idea; she was always trying to get him to spend more time with Gwen, and so they went.

Faelen was sitting beside him. He'd been very quiet the whole time; it was obvious he was troubled about something, and Geoff would wager it meant Liam's talk wasn't going well. Dirk was nearby, and he seemed to notice it as well.

Dirk's voice was a little overly jovial when he spoke. "If it pleases my Dark Master, we should move. Your sister and mate are wandering a little far."

Geoff looked up from the flower he was subconsciously dissecting. Nathanial and Gwen were wandering off pretty far. "Yes, Bone Daddy, you're right." He stood up but froze when Faelen suddenly sobbed.

Faelen shook his head and stood up with them, his ears flat and his tail curled. "Sorry. It's just..." He shook his head again and sniffled.

A quick glance over his shoulder showed Nathanial and Gwen walking back. It seemed Nathanial was trying to keep Gwen from noticing anything was wrong but wanted to be nearby.

Dirk put his arm around Faelen. "Son? Is Sensei all right?"

Faelen had tears running from his eyes as he nodded.

A portal opened beside Geoff, and Nathanial's voice echoed in his head. *Take him back, Geoff. He'll want to be with Liam if it's this bad. Dirk and I will walk back with Gwen.*

Geoff nodded and put his arm over Faelen's shoulder. "Dirk, stay with Nathanial and Gwen. They'll probably walk back."

Dirk glanced at his distraught son, then over at Nathanial. He nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll keep them safe."

Faelen stiffened and then muffled a howl of grief. He collapsed against Geoff, crying. "A-Aunt M-Muireann is d-dead!"