sonofgranite | Entries tagged with máire

What languages do you speak?

"The squire has more Gaelic than you have English, my lad. A man who speaks only his cradle tongue can't cast aspersions at others."

"Don't be mistaking Gaelic for my first language, Donncha. Nor me for a lad."

( I grew up speaking the language of my kind... )

Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word Count: 510 (excluding quotes)

Current Mood: thoughtful

Write a prompt that begins with the words: "I don't understand"...

“I don't understand, Da.”

Ruairí had traced his middle son and namesake to an isolated crag overlooking the Cashla River. No more than twenty minutes away from the house under Knockduff for a horse at full gallop- and Rory had been at full gallop when he left –but not someplace his non-púca mother could readily follow, even were she inclined.

( But some things can't be outrun. )

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 976

Current Mood: determined
Current Music: the breeze and the river

Surprise! Your ex is at the door -- and at a most inopportune moment! Now what?!

Someone pounding insistently on the front door is never a welcome sound, particularly when a woman is in the middle of honeymooning with her new husband. And when said new husband is a fey and said pounding comes late in the evening, right when he's demonstrating a few of more than a millennium's worth of accumulated lovemaking skills, suffice to say that Máire NiStandún MacEibhir let fly with a few words that would have caused the parish priest to assign her penance, had he been within hearing distance.

Whatever her man Ruairí had to say about the interruption was muffled against the soft skin of her hip. His dark púca eyes glimmered in the lamplight as he lifted his head from what he was doing and gave her a meltingly persuasive look. "We can ignore it, lover."

( Or maybe not ... cut for length )

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 1098

Current Mood: embarrassed

Picture prompt: Ring and Book

The gold ring lay in his palm. Only a simple band of metal, it still felt heavy for its size. The weight of all that meaning, perhaps.

Until two weeks ago it had graced Máire's left hand. Máire, his blackbird, his dark rose, his queen of heaven. His wife. Until two weeks ago that ring had symbolized the vows they'd made to each other, the life they'd built together. But two weeks ago he'd found her dead, two bullets in her chest and the ring still on her finger.

( The ring took on a whole other message then. )

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 1595

Current Mood: mourning

What event do you wish you could have been a "fly on the wall" for?

Ara, and what makes you so sure I haven't been?

I am a púca after all, one of the Other Folk. We work in mysterious ways. I can hear Tadhg Ó Murchú scolding me for the blasphemy, but it's true.

( Not a literal fly, of course. )

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 308
Please comment to