[The Keep] Walking to Skye

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Straken
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

Post by Straken »

Ruarc and Maeve exchanged a couple of glances as Drysi ran down one of her headcanon rabbit holes. While peculiar, Ruarc had accepted his apprentice’s strange habit and typically just let it run its course, and was grateful that Gideon seemed to have a bit of sway in getting her back on track; and he could only begin to imagine what the internal dialog between them must be like. When it looked to have wrapped up, Ruarc straightened as he got ready to talk shop only for one last hiccup, and Maeve almost spitting her own ale.

“Momm-Maeve? Ah’mma need tae ‘member tha’ one~” Maeve was stifling a laugh so as to not sidetrack the apprentice.
“It’s definitely got character,” Ruarc sighed inwardly.
“She’s adorable, inna drunk squirrel sorta way.”

Ruarc cleared his throat as Drysi finished. Reaching into his back pocket, the Irishman withdrew a moleskin notebook and a pen from the pocket on his flannel. Setting the small book down he opened to a marked page and passed it to his apprentice. Across the two pages in front of her were neatly scrawled notes in Flynn’s handwriting that she’d gotten used to reading over the past few months.

Ruarc's Journal
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“As if I would go into a job blind,” Ruarc said calmly while adjusting his glasses, giving off the definite impression that he was proud of himself; to which Maeve just gave him a leveled stare while mentally calling the man a nerd. Using the pen to point, Ruarc ran Drysi through the basics of what the case would entail. Once finished he let Drysi continue to look at the notes.

"Any questions so far?"
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Kokuten
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

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Maeve was the only person at the table who didn’t think Mr. Flynn was cool in this moment of exposition. Drysi reverently took the book and nearly squee’d at what was certainly the first brief of many more missions to come. She admired the evenness of his handwriting, and the attention to detail in covering the shortcomings of her understanding of the shorthand. It almost overshadowed the gravity of the fact that this case was potentially connected to a disappearance.

As Drysi soaked in the details, she began to sober up. If Mr. Flynn was right, these creatures could be dangerous. 2018 was a while ago, and they had never found that poor bloke. It only briefly occurred to her that the data points were far apart, and this could be some sense of her Master trying to seek relevance in one last case.

But Drysi knew he’d be happy to be wrong, if it only meant knowing the truth, that was the kind of man he was.

“What sort cryptids shack up in this region? The other two cases were in colder months, but this happened in mid-summer. Probably why the smell’s so bad, heat’ll make it carry.”
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Straken
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

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As Drysi admired his notebook, Ruarc’s pride shifted to straight gloating as he looked at Maeve; to which Maeve laughed, smiled, and started eating her meal. Ruarc, focusing his attention back on his apprentice, sat patiently as Drysi analyzed the notes he had made. To his expectations, she ate it up and eagerly took in the information and even took the initiative to start brainstorming possible suspects.

“Caitria dismissed the case suspecting that it's simply a group of cú mara traveling inland. Sea-hounds, at least to explain the quadrupeds. The theory for the biped was a mac tíre na dtonn; a subset of some of the man-wolves from Irish folklore that stick to the seas and sometimes associate with other hound-like entities,” Ruarc spoke in the straightforward manner that he used when instructing. “My issue with this is simply that both entities very rarely have webbed feet. As I wrote, I believe that, given similarities to past cases, this is something potentially more sinister. I think it's a warlock.”

After taking a drink, Ruarc steeples his hands as he seems to make a case.

“Given Ireland’s island status, and the proclivity of many fae beings to wander into Ireland from the Wilds, warlocks have a long history of activity in the area. So, individual makes a pact with an aquatic fae or similar being, and following a long enough contract begin to take on characteristics of their patron; thus, webbed feet and smelling of tidal decay. Can only guess at what the motivation for them might be at this point, but warlocks have always been a little off.”
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Kokuten
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

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“That’s something,” Drysi tugged out a smaller notebook that she decided to keep on her when she didn’t have her bag. She had already been hurt once, she wasn’t going to let herself be without stationery again, “it might help to know if the locals have seen odd fellows in the surroundin’ area. I bet hunters or farmers would know for sure about any strange humanoid types. A warlock couldn’t get away from being human or needing human things.”

A small, spare ballpoint pen slithered out from a pocket, as Drysi whipped it out to capture more notes to transcribe later. Writing down her thoughts helped them come together in a way that just thinking them couldn’t do.

“Why would a sea warlock be this far inland? It’s just a buncha farms and whatnot; what could motivate someone to distance themself from their patron, long term?” reasoned the apprentice, trying to piece together details, “Whatever is here, if it is all connected, is embedded. Don’ Ireland have a lotta lake beasties?”

Drysi nibbled the head of her pen, before chewing out a name, “Like the… Oilliphéist.”

”That was good recall, Drysi.”

She shook her head.

”I only remember it ‘cause folks think Miss Carrie was one.”
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Straken
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

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“Plenty of lake-goers,” the Irishman nodded in approval of Drysi’s adition.

“As for the why: a milk run. That is to say, the warlock goes and handles tasks that the patron would otherwise not be able to do. While the warlock likely wouldn’t be comfortable, they would still be able to access areas normally out of bounds to the patron,” Ruarc flipped to the next page of his notebook where he outlined hypotheses. “The specifics at this point would only be grasping at straws, but if these are all connected then our anomaly will likely be looking for someone, something, or somewhere. While the abduction at Clodagh might suggest the someone, I would say it is actually somewhere. Viona McFarley was... eight... at the time. Children likely won’t be well versed in who or what, but they have a knack for finding places no one else might know about; no lack of fairy tales of children stumbling into places they shouldn’t be.”

Ruarc took a drink.

“My leading hypothesis is that a warlock bound to a sea entity has been traveling inland to areas across Scotland and Ireland trying to locate an area of interest to the patron. This area would possibly allow the warlock to access a well of power that could then be channeled back to the patron. The uptick in frequency could suggest a growing need from the patron, which could also explain the more extreme methods taken to locate the P.o.I. So, the plan, tomorrow we’ll be driving out to Timiduane, gather what information we can from the locals, then stake out to see if we can observe the anomaly directly. If we are able to confirm that it is, in fact, just creature migration, then we’ll report back and pass the case onto the Eights. If the anomaly proves to be a warlock, or some other sapient entity, then you will assist me in subduing it.”

The Keeper held his tongue at the end, stopping himself from instructing her to hang back. Hawaii had proved that coddling wasn’t what would keep his students safe. He just needed to trust that his apprentice would act best.
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

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Drysi had been listening intently, or had thought she had been listening intently. The questions she had lined up were knocked aside by the very last sentence. She thought she had heard him say that she would help him subdue this notional Warlock. Fear? Pride? She couldn’t tell what she felt more of. To be taken seriously was as daunting as it was gratifying. Visions of her haggish grandmother filled her mind, reaching out down her spine as if they were being traced with crooked fingers. Flashes of the horror at Hawaii took over, and how that could have been a slaughter, how it had been for some people around the world.

For the first time, Mr. Flynn could see a flash of Drysi’s age in her eyes, until something else took over. Then, another memory blossomed forth, something that filled her dreams with color. Again, it was Hawaii, in the most dire moment, and the image stood out to her the most.

Her master stood ahead of her, wreathed in flames, soaring forth in an attack. She could see her hand rise, shivering in pain as she channeled the spirits around her, connecting his flame with her own. Their magic had become one, and she had been told it had looked like a dragon, but all she remembered was how it felt.

“We don’t have a lot of time to research just what might connect all of these places together,” came a strangely sober response from Drysi, “I can do some lookin’ on my m’phone tonight and see if there’s anythin’ substantial.”

The Apprentice stared down at her mostly empty plate of food, realizing she had gotten to the end of her meal. “How early should I plan on gettin up?"
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Straken
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

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“Sleep in,” came Ruarc’s response. The recommendation was a far cry from the usual training schedules set by the dutiful Master Flynn. “Take tonight to catch your breath a bit, and get a good night’s sleep. We will probably be doing a stakeout tomorrow night, so we’ll be up late in all likelihood.”

Tipping back his mug, Ruarc polished of his mug of ale, and lifted it as he looked towards the bartender. His attention settled back on Drysi as he put the empty mug down. Leaning forward, the Irishman reached across the table to pat his apprentice on the head before letting his hand rest on her shoulder; being mindful of Gideon, of course. He hadn’t missed the moment of hesitation from Drysi, and it made Ruarc think about how he had felt when going on his first assignment while training with Grandpa; back when his arms had been just as long, but lanky and without the sturdy muscle he ended up building as a part of both of his jobs. Well, right now, Drysi was that lanky teenager lacking experience; figuratively speaking at least, what with the Welshgirl being over a foot shorter than he had been at her age.

As he pulled his hand back, Ruarc flicked his wrist and was pinching a folded note. It smelled faintly of citrus and cardamom.


The Note
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Ruarc gave Drysi a smile as she finished reading the note. He hadn’t read it for the courtesy of privacy.
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Kokuten
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

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Drysi’s eyes were almost all color when Mr. Flynn produced the note. She enjoyed the physical affection, but she liked gifts almost just as much. Her pianist fingers plucked up the note, and her nose got the whiff of something that made her heart race. In her nostalgic state, she got flashes of blonde hair whipping in the wind.

Normally, with such a note, she would rush off to go read it privately. Keeping one’s composure while reading a personal message was difficult. This had been no exception.

First came a stiffened posture, not knowing what to expect. Then came a goofy, pursed smile, tightly tucking away bursting joy. A wave of concern came next, her brows getting heavier and heavier. Relief looked to be next, before she looked up sharply at Mr. Flynn. Her chest rose, as if to speak, before she sunk back into the letter.

More and more she leaned in, feeling both giddiness and embarrassment thereof. As she finished, she had a smile and a sense of warmth she had trouble shaking. For a normal human, it would have been the warm fuzzies, but for Drysi it looked like she had another drink. As it washed over it, she held herself, wishing she was at home right now.

“Wow,” Drysi sighed, flattening the letter to look at it again, “she’s taking the distance harder than I thought. I’ve only been gone a day or so–...”

Triclopsi eyes were quite unique in color and texture, looking almost reptilian up close. They made for striking effect when shooting glances, and Ruarc got one such glance. A cursory mix of intellectual evaluation and suspicion.

“How did you come by this?” asked Drysi, “Is Willow okay? Is she at the keep?”

The letter got more look, this one aghast, “And when did she start hanging out with Manon?”
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Straken
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

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Ruarc had been prepared for the glance. It had been one of a couple of options he’d anticipated, right behind Drysi squirreling away to her room and a high pitched squee of some sort. So, the Irishman maintained his gaze right up until his new mug of ale was sat down; just before Drysi asking about Manon. After a big swig he sat the mug down, sounding heavy as the ceramic made contact with the heavy wood table.

“You didn’t miss her, if that’s the concern. I had to make a house call and ran into Willow; made for a long night, and that’s part of why I was just relaxing in the library reading when you woke up this morning. Willow is doing fine, but I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter; per Willow’s request. I want you staying focused though, so you can go back to the dorm with a rad story of your own to share. Deal?”
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Kokuten
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Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye

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Fingers plucked at Drysi’s lips like a musician plucked strings. The worry was already there at whatever Willow got herself into. It had to be something deep and in over her head, that was the only thing that ever really got her attention. She’d likely say yes to every little request levied her way, and end up getting overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the world. What if Willow was getting moody right now, unable to crawl out of her doldrums?

She nervously sputtered through her lips as she considered what Willow would do if confronted with challenges that required intellectual pursuit.

“Deal. Focused.” Drysi began to press her fingers to her temples, clenching her eyes shut, “Focused. I can do that. If you got involved, then Willoo turned out fine. We’ve got honest police work to do.”

Ruarc’s apprentice stood, picking up her plate, before realizing she wasn’t at a cafeteria. Then she set her plate down, and scratched her head.

“Do I just leave this here?”
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