|Darerca of Ireland (prayingwithfire) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2017-10-16 20:28:00
|Entry tags:||saint darerca, saint padraig|
Who: Irish!Darerca and Padraig
When: Sunday evening
Where: Darerca's home
With hurricane Ophelia headed straight towards them, Darerca had taken the lead and helped several of the denizens of her island prepare for the storm. The unfortunate drawback of being the patron saint of Valentia, and therefore putting everyone else first, meant that her own home wasn't yet proofed and the clouds above her were fat with rain, threatening to burst any moment.
As she readied the boards for her windows, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder, and honestly when she turned around she expected absolutely anyone except her older brother. Well. Anyone except saint George, considering Padraig hated her for killing George back in the twenties. Sure she had done so to free Padraig as George had been keeping him prisoner, but the fecking idiots never seemed to remember that.
She could count on the fingers of one hand how many times she had seen Padraig since that horrible night, and every time it had been Darerca showing up at his doorstep and forcing herself in, in order to make sure he was okay and take care of him. This- Padraig had never come to see her, not once in the last nearly one hundred years. And now here he was, his face solemn and yet somehow protective all at once.
"Let me help you," he said, grabbing one of the boards so she could hammer it in.
Darerca chose not to question him, grateful to her very soul he had come. Padraig knew how much this rugged little island meant to her. It was her whole life, and her entire heart and it was in danger. "Thank you," she whispered, nailing the board in.
It took them an hour to weather proof the entire house and the stables where Darerca's horse, Bree, was pacing in her stall. They finally retired to Darerca's kitchen, where she flicked the kettle on as the first drops of rain splattered against the roof. "I'll make tea while we still have electricity," she said, pushing her windswept hair from her eyes.
"Mind you don't have something stronger?" he asked, taking a seat at her table.
"Later," she cautioned him. "Did you take the ferry?"
"Thought I was going to die," he said with a nod. "The sea was...unquiet."
"It usually is," Darerca said fondly.
"Darerca-" Padraig started, "...are you alright?"
There wasn't really an answer for that, so she shook her head and was about to grab a pair of mugs, but instead she made a beeline for her older brother and she fell to her knees, shoving herself into his arms. "Oh my goodness, I can't believe you came."
"Shhh," Padraig, who was a little uncomfortable with physical affection at the best of times, and certainly with this little sister he spent most of his time avoiding, kind of patted her hair. "Of course I did, Dee."
"I don't know what's going to happen," she sniffed, letting him know just how very scared she was.
"I'll be here," he promised her. "I'll be here as long as you need."
If you had told her this morning that was the best thing she would hear all day, Darerca wouldn't have believed you. As it was, she stood and kissed his hair, and went to finish their tea. Her brother was here and just maybe things would be okay.