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| Scene Title | Go N-eiri An Bothar Leat |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Griffin flee's to Pollepel Island with his son and some disturbing news. |
| Date | December 9, 2010 |
No one knew if they might be hurt, two people who came with the rest of the weeks supplies. Abigail bailed from the infirmary, hightailing it through the halls, outside the castle and made sure that she was at the door that lead into the castle proper when Griffin and Owain are brought around the corner. Instant recognition in the very dim light of the lanterns, people hurrying to get everything that was unloaded in and hide the lights from view.
Sweater around her, jeans boots and keeping her own self warm with purposeful jacking up of her temperature, she's surprised to see Griffin and even more to see his son in his arms. "Griffin?" Her voice is low, speaking only when he's near enough. "What on earth are you doing here?"
The man looks a rather awful mess right now. His eyes are sunken in slightly, with dark circles beneath them indicating sleep deprivation, and his face bears a sickly pallor to match the rest of his expression. His eyes are red and tear-stained. It's only by a miracle that he managed to get Owain to sleep, the boy slumbering like a rock on his shoulder. After last night, the boy had trouble sleeping too, and finally collapsed when they were waiting for the boats.
As Abby comes into view, Griffin's tortured expression only gets worse, the man hugging his son close to himself and kissing the child's shoulder, an act meant purely to comfort himself. Her question only prompts the tears to well up again, and he's quiet for a moment, struggling for the words.
When he does speak, his voice is hoarse from the same sleep deprivation that mars his face. He speaks in barely above a whisper, so as not to disturb his sleeping son. "Marjorie is dead. Murdered by one Colonel Heller." His face screws up, and it's obvious that at least part of the fatigue on his face is from restraining the wall of emotion that's threatened to crash down on him since last night.
"Colonel Heller?" The name is unfamiliar to her and it's easy enough to see as the brunette ushers the pair of them in behind some of the supplies that will tide them over for the week. A message from someone on the mainland is passed over the brunette, scrutinizing the name on the envelope and shoving it in her pocket. She doesn't recognize the writing but her name is on the cover.
"Were you followed?" You know, after you picked up your kid and brought him here. "Do you have any electronics on you Griffin. period"
"I don't know who he is, either." Griffin is quiet, still hugging the boy to his chest with the tears wetting his cheeks, causing them to shimmer in the dim lights. "Nobody followed me. I went into hiding yesterday, then caught the boat." The boy, who looks tired and stressed out as well, makes a small fussing noise, rubbing at his eyes, before settling back into sleep. As his son stirs, Griff falls silent, rubbing the child's back.
"No. None. I threw my cell phone away— I think they took Marjorie's phone. I couldn't find it. So…mine is gone. Destroyed." He rubs the boy's back again, wavering in place.
"Lord" Two more for the place, even as some have gone. She doesn't even know where to put them. "Uhm, come on, we'll, take you to the… I don't know where to put you, we're short on space. But we'll put you and him somewhere. Is he a screamer?" Abigail gestures to Owani, keeping her voice down low so as not to wake him. "When he sleeps, does he have nightmares and is he a screamer. It'll help me figure out where to put you." She looks up to Griffin, worried about how he looks. "Have you both eaten?"
Griffin frowns quietly to Abby. "I— I don't know if he is or not." He's horribly unprepared for this being daddy thing. He was getting prepared— but he still wasn't quite ready. Not for this— not for losing his sister like this. He winces to himself, pushing off that emotional wall again. "Marjorie— she never said anything about it, but…we…" He shakes his head, moving off of that topic. He can't face those emotions right now. He has his son to worry about.
"Owain has. I haven't." The way he says it, it sounds like he could have eaten to, but apparently chose not to.
"Are you okay with putting Owain in my bed and letting someone watch over him and then getting something to eat in the kitchen? Or I can show you where I'm sleeping, let you put him there and you can stay there while I get some stew from the kitchen and bring it up to you? You need to eat, and if I'm not mistaken, you need to sleep too Griffin"
Griffin frowns quietly at Abby for a moment. He's hardly let Owain go since last night, except to let the boy eat. He looks rather reluctant to accept her offer, despite the fact that he came here for help. At first, he shakes his head. "I'm fine, I…yes. That would be nice. If— if you don't mind me staying with him? I don't want him to wake up without me there. I'm all he has left." He sounds weary.
"I'm not about to separate you two Griffin. enough people have been separated, and you're now all that he has left. I'll find somewhere else to sleep, I'll find you some blankets and you can tell me what you know about what happened" Through the hall they're going, lantern lighting the way as they carefully take some steps. Abby's got a cot in some far end corner of a dead end hall. The reason good, and it'll help in case Owain is a screamer. Or wakes up screaming.
Griffin nods slowly, following carefully after Abby; examination reveals that his eyes are glowing and he's actually hovering behind her, making the trip to the cot as smooth as possible for his exhausted, traumatized son. At least he can carry his boy without waking him. "Th— thank you, Abby. For everything." His voice is little more than a soft whisper, his hand rubbing over Owain's back.
'Don't thank me now. Thank me after people have come to talk with you about what happened. Do you know anything at all about what happened Griffin? Why this Heller person killed Marjorie? Was it something to do with you or was to she too vocal about something?" A pause. "Griffin, was she in Messiah?" She did seem the type of person.
Griffin pointedly does not answer Abby's questions until he's finally got Owain on the cot, covering the boy up with his long wool coat for now. After stepping a good distaces away, Griffin breathes a few times, closing his eyes. "Y-yes. She was in Messiah." A frown. "I got a text message from her last night, around seven. Humanis First— they tagged Oh So Sweet. I was stopping them, and didn't answer it immediately."
He finds a wall to lean against, his eyes fading back to green as they stare down at the ground. "It said 'Colonel Heller at door, asking for Griff. Owain's safe. Scared.'" He winces, raising a hand to the bridge of his nose. "I got there as soon as I could, but….it wasn't soon enough." His voice cracks with emotion, now. "I found her on the table shot in the head…half of her face was gone."
And the wave of emotions comes crashing down on Griffin now, finally, without having to worry about putting on a strong front for his son. Griffin suddenly throws his hands over his face, letting out a low moan of mourning as he slides down to the ground. "M-my baby sister…she's gone. I couldn't save her…I never got to say I was sorry, never got to tell her how much I loved her…" He sobs this out into his hands and knees, trying to keep as quiet as he can. "They killed her…she made tea for them, and they killed her…and I wasn't there. I should have been there."
"They did what to my shop?" It's automatic, it is her store and she worked hard to get it open. He's breaking down, and she doesn't want Owain to wake up and see him. So her ahnd grips his upper arm, guiding him down the hall and around the corner. No one can get to owain unless they come out of a storage room or past the two of them.
'She's with your wife now Griffin, and she is in a better place where people don't do such things. I don't know what plan the lord had for taking her, he does cruel seeming things some times. But she's gone. She's gone and we can go down to the memorial and if you have apicture of her, you and Owain can put her picture there or we can dig up some paper and crayons and Owain can draw a picture of her and put it up there and we can say a few words if you like"
She looks around the corner to the sleeping child then back to his grieving father. "She knew Griffin. I'm sure she knew how much you loved her even if you both had your tiffs"
The man raises back to his feet when Abby grabs his arm, following her in a sniffling, crying mess, more moving as an automatic function than anything else. Once they're out of sight from Owain, he sink back to the ground, his knees drawn up to his chest, and his elbows resting on his knees as he stifles himself with his hands, covering his face.
"It was my fault, Abby. They were looking for me, and when I didn't come, they killed her. She— she didn't do anything to deserve it." He sobs. "None of them deserve it. Everything I touch dies. Everything I love dies, and it's always my fault, Abby." He lets his head slip back, his form shaking with the sobs that he's trying so hard, and failing, to stifle.
"The last time I saw her, I shoved her with my ability. I scared her, and she took Owain. I should— I should have ran as soon as she showed up. I should have kept my promise to myself, that I wouldn't involve her and my son in my life. But I let them in, and now my baby sister is dead, her face blown off, laying in a puddle of blood on her kitchen floor." He bumps his head back against the wall.
'Shoulda, coulda, woulda Griffin. What would Marjorie say if she were standing right here, right now, and saw you in this situation that you are in?" Abby doesn't know marjorie too much, but she knew the strong willed woman some.
The man falls into silent tears, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't know. You probably know her better than I did."
Suddenly, he clasps his hands, pressing them to his forehead. "Go n-eiri an bothar leat. Go raibh coir na gaoithe i gconai leat. Go dtaitni an ghrian go bog blath ar do chlar aadain, go dtite an bhaisteach go og mín ar do ghoirt. Agus go gcasfar le cheile sinn ares, go gcoinni Dia i mbois a laimhe thu." As he says what is apparently a prayer in Gaelic, tears stream down his cheeks.
"Oh god, what do I do now?" He doesn't move his hands, and it's difficult to tell if he's praying to God, or asking the question of Abby.
"You ask him. You go lay down beside that cot or on it and you hold your son and you make sure that your second chance to be a Dah, isn't a fruitless one and you take each day at a time Griffin Mihangle." is Abby's quiet answer from where she sits across from him.
The pale-faced Griffin raises tearstained green eyes to peer at Abby, fat tears still leaking from his eyes and flowing over his cheeks. His hands, still clasped together, come to rest on his chin. Then, he sniffs a few times, nodding. "I— I don't think I can eat anything tonight. I might be able to sleep…" Maybe. If he can keep the image of his dead sister out of his mind. "Every time I close my eyes, I see her…"
"I have a sleeping pill, if you want. You need sleep Griffin. You need to take care of yourself so that you can take care of Owain. You're all that he has left anymore." Abigail shifts to standing, offering her hand out to him. "Let me go find you some extra blankets for Owain, you can have my sleeping bag. I'll bring you back some tea and I'll check back in a few hours, see if you'll eat something then. I need to let the council know"
With a weak nod, Griffin slowly reaches out and takes Abby's hand, raising to his feet. "That…would probably be good. I could take a sleeping pill…" He agrees that he needs to sleep, and badly, it's just difficult to do when he sees that horrifying image as if it has been tattooed on his eyelids. "Thank you, Abby…I'm in your debt, and the Ferry's, more than you will ever know…" He sniffs quietly, calming himself down.