|Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2016-03-02 21:40:00
|Entry tags:||famine, saint patrick|
Who: St Patrick, Famine, open to Clio once they get to the house
When: Tuesday afternoonish
Where: Patrick's office and then home
Warnings: Ghosts, slavery, blood and stuff
Patrick hadn't even seen it coming. He had been nose-deep in an essay written by a political commentator about the upcoming elections in Ireland, and was therefore utterly unaware of the mass of ghosts currently messing with the status quo of the Big Apple and beyond. He was worrying about taxes and jobs and further diaspora when he heard a voice he could recognise still, even after a millennium.
"Patricius, what are you doing?!" the spectre of his former master bellowed at him in one of the ancient Irish languages Patrick had thought he'd long forgotten. He hadn't. Just the sight of the man standing there, whip in hand, was enough to send Patrick diving for the floor, but he wasn't fast enough. "Always thinking you were better than the other slaves," the ghost kept yelling, and the whip cracked across Patrick's back. He cried out in surprise as the ghostly weapon caused real damage.
In a panic, Patrick stood to run to the door, but the whip caught him again and he fell. There on the floor of his office, he curled up into a ball while the man unleashed his fury across Patrick's back and then everything went quiet.
After several silent minutes, Patrick whimpered and he crawled for the alcove under his desk to take shelter and text for help. Just because the man had disappeared, it didn't mean he was really gone, surely.