Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2011-06-16 07:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | famine, saint patrick |
Who: Patrick & Famine
What: Rides home from the airport, and a talk (Originally posted by Famine)
When: Wednesday afternoon
Where: JFK airport
Famine really didn't like traveling by plane-too cramped, too many screaming kids, and she really hated it when her ears popped. But then again, it was infinitely preferable to being forcibly pulled back from wherever she'd been, or long rides in a small car. And as much as being on vacation had rocked, she was feeling better and ready to come back home. She and Patrick needed to talk, and she needed to apologize. She didn't know how good she'd be at it, but he was really her only friend. Couldn't hurt to try, right?
She collected her bags from the carousel, and scanned the crowd looking for Patrick's red hair, easily the best way to identify him. And if he wasn't there yet, that was OK too. She could wait. She was pretty good at that, at least.
Patrick was there, carrying a bag of croissants with him. He just felt more secure if there was food with him nowadays. And he thought it might be a nice gesture that he had brought food to her too.
He caught sight of her, weaving through the crowd, and he raised a hand to wave her over. He didn't exactly feel like shouting 'HEY FAMINE' in the middle of a crowd, so instead he just smiled and waited for her to notice.
She spotted him and gave a tiny wave, wheeling her suitcase over to where he stood. "Thanks for coming," she said, and she meant it. "How are you feeling?" He looked a little better, but he was still way too skinny, and for the first time that she could remember-ever-she felt a twinge of guilt. Yeah, Satan was definitely getting that kick in the balls.
"God, I hate flying," she remarked. "I swear, all the fussing babies were on the flight coming back."
"Planes are terrifying," Patrick nodded, agreeing. "I hate them, and everything that comes with them, loud babies included. Here," he said, handing over the bakery bag. "I brought you this. Thought you might fancy something to nibble on the ride."
As they started to walk towards the car, Patrick reached out to take her suitcase from her. No reason not to be a gentleman. "You're welcome for coming. And I feel fine now. How was your trip?"
"If God had meant for us to fly, we would have been born with wings," she agreed. She perked up a bit and peered inside. "Oooh, croissants, awesome. Thanks," she said with a grin, taking one out and biting off the end. "You thought right, they only gave us two of those dinky packets of pretzels on the way back."
She was briefly taken aback by the gesture, but let him take the suitcase. "Good," she said. "That's good. You're definitely looking better. Protein, carbs, and fat, yeah? Good for weight gain. Not that it really works for me," she said, gesturing at her own skinny frame. "But you know. I hear things."
"It was really awesome," she said, pulling her sunglasses down from their resting place on top of her head. "Warm and sunny and quiet. I got the chance to do a lot of thinking down there. Tried that seafood place you told me about, it was really good." She paused for breath. "Anything major go down while I was gone?"
"Exactly," Patrick agreed. He hated flying. It freaked him out. "Have as many as you want, I already had three of the croissants."
"I've been trying to eat as much of that as possible. George, John and Dewi are seeing to it that I do. They're very good at it." Patrick glanced over at her, noting how thin she was. He felt sorry for her, even though he knew it was who she was and that was all that could be said about that. Still, it couldn't have been easy... "I'm sorry it doesn't work for you. That's horrible."
"I am glad you had a good time though! I miss that seafood place. Nothing major went down besides us finding Dewi. Everything was pretty quiet. Oh. Well Satan stole a relic of Saint Anthony's. Because he's a jerk."
She might or might not have been eyeing the bag and considering asking for another one, but hearing him say it was alright, she took out another one. "I have an eternal case of the munchies, it's a wonder people don't think I'm constantly high," she mused with a grin.
"Good," she said again, firmly. "Keep that up, you should be right as rain fairly quickly." She noticed him looking at her. "It's always been that way for me," she told him. "Can't be Famine without apparently looking like you're constantly afflicted by it." She tried for a shrug that she was pretty sure only looked half casual. "Always skinny, always have the edge of hunger. I've learned to kind of adapt over time."
"Oh, that reminds me," she said, digging in her carry-on and finding the present she'd gotten for him. "Thought you might like it. And yeah, it was awesome, I don't think I've eaten that much crab in a long time."
"Dewi's your brother, right?" she asked. "It's a good thing he's back. I know if one of my sisters went missing, I'd be on the warpath looking for them. But you never heard that from me," she added with an extremely fake glare.
She sighed. "Yes. Yes, he really is, and I'm going to kick him in the balls the next time I see him," she said heatedly. "Lord knows he needs it."
Patrick snickered a little when she mentioned people might have assumed she was high. "I wouldn't know anything about that, but I am glad I provided something to munch."
"I learned to adapt in Ireland too," Patrick said, still sympathetic to her plight, "but that didn't mean it was easy or pleasant. It wasn't either of those things. So I'm sorry you have to go through that."
When she brought out his present he laughed loudly and grinned. "This is amazing!" he said joyfully. "I am going to wear it and make cookies!"
"Dewi is my brother. And I certainly considered a warpath. I love my siblings. And your secret is safe with me," he said with a wink.
"I'll leave the ball-kicking to you. Satan would break me in half. Hey, I uhm...I wanted to thank you for putting your scales on my building by the way. Makes me feel oddly safe."
She laughed a little, her smile more real. "I've dabbled once or twice, but it only made me slower and even hungrier, which I didn't think was possible. And these are awesome, by the way," she added, polishing off the second one in one last big bite.
She nodded. "It's not, you're right. But it's OK, you know? It's just...who I am, I guess. I've never known anything else. But...thank you. If there's anyone who would get it, it would probably be you."
She couldn't help but grin too, it was sort of infectious. "I saw the bright colors and thought it might be something you'd use. So go forth and bake."
She nodded. "I don't think I've ever met him, but even so I bet you're glad to have him back." She smiled and ducked her head. "I think if I ever told my sisters I loved them, they'd look at me like I'd gone off the deep end. And 'fiercely protective' is probably closer to the truth anyway."
"Goody, more for me," she said with a vicious little smile. "That would definitely be an interesting fight." But upon hearing his next words, she stopped, blinking a few times.
"Kept the rest of the idiots away," she murmured softly, unconsciously echoing her words on his journal a few weeks ago. "If they'd tried anything, I would have broken them in half." She hoped he'd get the meaning of 'You're sort of my only friend and I don't want anyone else fucking with you', even if she didn't say it out loud.
"I'm glad you like them," Patrick said with a smile.
Patrick nodded in companionable silence while she admitted it wasn't easy to be her, though it was okay. "I think there are a lot of things we get about each other that other people just...don't," he replied easily when she had finished.
"I will bake all the things! Especially with Dewi around. He's a cook. And I guess I'm glad I can tell all my siblings how I feel, even if some of them go red and tell me to stop."
"Yes, more balls for you," Patrick said with a snort. When she murmured about keeping the idiots away from him by drawing her scales on the wall, he smiled softly. "I appreciate it. Really."
"The only people who don't like delicious baked goods are secretly aliens," Famine said with a sage nod, eyes almost twinkling.
"You don't go through the kinds of things we have and not get each other, at least a little," she agreed. "Even if said things are kind of strange."
She smiled, a little fondly. "Go go Patrick baking," she said with a little laugh. "I'm working as a cook now, I've picked up a few tricks here and there. Helps pay the bills." She tilted her head then, thinking. "Horsemen are just weird, I guess," she said, shrugging. "You guys were human once, love and family and brotherhood comes easily to you. For all that we look like teenage or 20-something girls, we're not. Like Padraig told me, it's hard for someone who's not human to get that."
She cracked up then. "So not what I meant," she gasped. "Also, ew. Do not want Satan balls." She fake-shuddered through her laughter.
"Some of them can be real bitches," she said quietly. "Have you met Pride? Talk about someone who needs the occasional punch to the face." She pulled a face. "I intended for that to be a 'you're welcome', I think I got sidetracked."
"Aliens from the planet weirdo," Patrick nodded.
"I agree wholeheartedly," Patrick nodded, thinking that they had really been through a lot. "And Padraig is a smart man, and I can see how that would be the case. Just like it might be difficult for us to understand
what it is like to he a horseman."
"I figured you didn't mean that, but I had to go for the joke. It was that or a dirty limerick," Patrick giggled. "I haven't met Pride. Not that I remember, anyway. But I can imagine she wouldn't be pleasant, no." They finally arrived at the car and Patrick opened the trunk and placed her suitcase inside.
"Where to, ma'am?" Patrick asked with a grin, opening the door for her as well.
She nodded. "Like on The Fairly Oddparents, where they're allergic to cute things and chocolate makes them sick. Yugopatamians, I think they're called. They're like...permanently on opposite planet. And before you say anything...I have a secret love of Nicktoons. You have found out my deep, dark secret." She laughed.
She nodded. "He really is, even if we did start off the conversation by sniping at each other. And if you're curious, I've got lots of stories, if you'd like to hear them. It's weird, sometimes. I don't know."
She grinned. "Dirty limericks are good too," she replied. "And I'm pretty sure that image is burned into my brain, so I'll be bleaching it when I get home."
She smiled and slid into the passenger seat. "Home," she said, sounding almost as tired as she felt. "Home, please. I think a nap is in order."
Patrick laughed as well, even if he had no idea what television show she was talking about, as he didn't really watch television. "That is indeed a dark secret," he said with a wink.
"I wouldn't mind hearing stories," Patrick admitted. "If they were from before I came here then that'd help me remember things, and if they're about Padraig, it'll help me know more about him. I have a lot of respect for Padraig."
Patrick snickered at the image being burned unto her brain and then he nodded as she requested to go home. "A nap is always a worthy idea after a flight." He slid into the driver's seat and started the car up, easing it backwards. "I'm really glad you had a good time in Puerto Rico. I was hoping it would help."
She grinned. "Although as far as dark secrets go, that one's not so bad. Lord knows I've got plenty more," she added, more to herself than anything else.
She tried stifling a yawn and failed. "Would you settle for tomorrow, or maybe this weekend? For not being human, I'm really tired. But yeah, there's some about both of you guys. And I have a lot of respect for him too, even if we don't always see eye-to-eye."
"Naps are amazing," she murmured. "Switching off for a while is always awesome." She turned and gazed at him over the top of her sunglasses. "It was a good idea, I really did. It was nice to not have anything to worry about for awhile-not my sisters, not the pantheon bickering, nothing." She stretched out in the seat, yawning again. "Don't let me fall asleep, I always wake up with a crick in my neck," she said with a grin.