Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2011-02-07 11:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | saint david, saint patrick |
ho: Saints David and Patrick, open to John
What: David coming home
When: Sunday morning
Where: Home sweet home
Warning: none
"Far away a voice is calling,
Bells of memory chime
Come home again, come home again,
They call through the oceans of time."
David smiled at the vegetables simmering in the pot. He had gathered vegetables when he'd returned, not seeing John or Patrick, and immediately set to work on a leek and potato soup. He hummed as he chopped and stirred, feeling bouyant now that he had a goal.
"We'll keep a welcome in the hillside.
We'll keep a welcome in the glen.
This land you knew will still be singing
When you come home sweet home again."
His humming grew louder, until he was singing at a proper volume, his rich voice filling the small kitchen. He smiled as he sang, purely for his own pleasure. St David's Day was less than a month away, and he felt a lot better after the difficult week before.
"There'll be a friendly voice to guide you
On your return we'll always pray.
We'll kiss away each hour of longing
When you come home again someday.
We'll keep a welcome in the hillside.
We'll keep a welcome in the vales
This land you knew will still be singing
When you come home again to Wales!
This land of song will keep a welcome
And with a love that never fails,
We'll kiss away each hour of hiraeth
When you come home again to Wales!"
He took a breath to really bring it ringing home, head thrown back, joy in his heart. He'd been neglecting his Welsh side too long, and he was going to embrace it until he went on his little pilgrimage and sorted out the faith side. It would culminate in his Day, with song and flowers and dancing, and he'd show Patrick he remembered they were brothers from the very Greatest of Britains.
"We'll kiss away each hour of hiiiiraaaaeeeth,
When you come home agaaaaaain-"
Patrick had left John's congregation directly after the service because he wanted to get back to his reading. He would never miss one of John's sermons if he could help it, but he had remembered something significant in the middle of it. John's speaking had a way of bringing up important memories. And he had rushed home to write it down.
When he was close to the door, he heard singing coming from inside, however. It made him smile. He forgot all about his memory and his pace increased. He pulled the door open and the delicious smell of David's cooking hit him.
"Dewi!" Patrick said happily, and he moved into the kitchen to hug his brother. "I'm so happy to see you!"
David hugged Patrick back tightly. "Bore da, Patrick! I'm glad to see you too!" He kissed Patrick on both cheeks. "I feel rejuvenated. I had to come back to you." He went back to his pot to check it, and gave it a bit of a stir. "I was just about to make Welsh cakes. Do you want to pass me the currants?"
Patrick couldn't help but beam at David being so cute and happy. It made him happy too. He hadn't seen David smile this much in a while. And he felt guilty for not noticing until after the fact.
He grabbed the currants and handed them over with a grin. "Welsh cakes! You're brilliant, I'm starving." Patrick usually was, especially for David's cooking. "What has you feeling so rejuvenated, deartháir?"
"Well, brawd, as the Welsh say, gorau adnabod, d'adnabod dy hun. The best knowledge is to know yourself. I am going on a pilgrimage to find my centre again. I have a good feeling that this will help me figure out who I am again. I always did enjoy traveling, you know." Dewi kneaded the dough together vigorously, adding the currents with abandon.
That made Patrick's smile grow warmer still. A pilgrimage sounded like a very good idea. It had certainly perked David right up. "That sounds wonderful. Where will you go?" Patrick asked, moving out of the way of David's cooking. He rounded the little counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and he leaned against it, his chin resting on his hands.
"I haven't fully decided yet," Dewi mused. "I'll go after the first and be back by the 17th. For you." He smiled at Patrick. "Gwell fy mwthyn fy hun na phlas arall. Better my own cottage than the palace of another. I don't want to be gone too long."
"And I'd miss you," Patrick admitted easily. "Though I think going is a very good idea. But I always miss you when you're gone. I...I missed you this week." Patrick got quieter then. "I know you said you weren't angry with me, but you know I'm ridiculous. I worried you wouldn't come back. Because Peter's house is nice and Agatha lives there now..." Peter, David and Agatha were all saints who still kept a vow of chastity. Patrick wouldn't blame David at all if he wanted to live there instead, but it would sadden him.
"I love Agatha dearly, and Peter too, but I had to come back. I know how you worry about me," David said cheerily. He didn't want Patrick feeling down about it. He'd rather just put the whole thing in the past and forget it. Patrick had forgiven him already, and that's all that mattered. "It is rather quiet over there after too long, though. I missed the animals."
Patrick laughed and he shook his head. He could imagine Peter's house would be a quiet one. Patrick had the ability to be quiet when others around him were reflecting or studying, but usually he had a way of filling the room with energy just by being in it. And noise tended to be part of that.
"Am I one of the animals in this scenario?" Patrick asked, amused. He moved back into the kitchen and he kissed David's forehead. "A lot happened while you were gone. With me. It was...an important week."
"My favourite animal, of course," David agreed, reaching up to ruffle Patrick's hair. He gave Patrick a round cookie cutter to hold while he rolled out the dough. "You cut some while I make sure the frying pan is hot enough. What happened?"
Patrick grinned like a pleased child when David ruffled his hair. "Sure," he said, keeping his cookie cutter in hand so he could do his part. He cut a few of the cakes as he spoke. And he started small. "I actually felt the change come over me. Those times when I black out and become me, but...calmer? I felt it for the first time and managed to fight it off. I think- I think I am managing to bring the two sides of myself closer together."
"Well that's good, right? Being calmer? It's good you have control over it. It must be scary for you not being able to predict it." He took a few cakes and put them in the frying pan. The smell of hot butter was delicious.
"It is scary. And it was during an important talk with John and I didn't want to not remember or...surrender myself to another part of me if I could help it. So I didn't." There was more however.
"Uhm...and I heard prayers for the first time since I can remember too. That was scary when it happened though. It was overwhelming and horrible, but I heard them. God thought I was worthy to hear them just for a little while. So I'm doing something right."
David looked around at Patrick, then carefully put down his spatula and went to his brother, hugging him tightly. "It is a blessing. You will control that too, and only hear it when you want to. Oh Patrick!" He beamed at his brother. "Things are starting to go right for you! You will find your way to solid ground, I have absolute faith in you."
Patrick laughed as David hugged him and beamed. Seeing David his cheerful was actually doing more for him than the knowledge that things were suddenly going right again. David meant so much to him and here he was in front of him, grinning madly.
It almost hurt to say the next part. "I...it scared me and it hurt so much I drank to try to stop it though. It was a slip. But not too bad. Though you...might need to replace your cooking sherry," Patrick said with a grimace. "I heard the prayers again this morning though, and I didn't panic. It still hurts, but- There's a lot of pain right now and I'm going to do something about it."
"After so long, it's no wonder you panicked," David replied. It couldn't be expected that things would be straightforward, and David didn't want to stress Patrick out by being angry or disappointed. Besides, this was the best mood he'd been in in weeks, he didn't want to spoil that for himself either.
"I'd forgotten that sherry was there, to be honest. I don't cook with it anyway, I think it was left over after a dinner or something. So don't feel bad about that. You did me a favour more than anything. Nobody could expect these things to be easy, and there are those who would do a lot worse than you have." He picked up the spatula again and flipped the first lot of the cakes onto a cooling rack. "You can have some, but they're hot," he warned.
"I'll be careful!" Patrick promised, and he grabbed himself a plate and two of the cakes. He didn't go sit down, however. He wanted to be close to his brother. "And thank you, Dewi. For understanding. You're wonderful, you know." He planted a kiss on David's temple and he leaned against the counter out of David's way.
"I want to talk to Padraig...the Irish me, which...you probably knew. Anyway, I want to talk to him about things. A lot of Irish people have been coming here to get away from the crumbling economy in Ireland and so any of them are languishing. And I think I can actually help. Not with everything. John had to remind me I can't change things and I can't fix every single problem that I hear in prayer, but Irish Americans love their home country so much. I think I can help if I get Padraig on board."
He hadn't actually explained what he was planning to do, but just the fact that he was planning to do something other than sitting at home, writing his memories down, and wishing he had a drink was proof that he was better than he had been in months.
"Oh shucks, enough of you." David waved Patrick off. "You have a plan? Care to share?" He looked around at Patrick curiously. That Patrick was thinking to the future was an excellent sign.
Patrick giggled and he retreated to the table to eat his cakes, slowly as he had been told.
"I want to see what Padraig says first, but it will include grant writing and looking for people to give me money to use to help this new wave of Irish immigrants. I haven't really been doing my job for a very long time, but Padraig has his fingers in a lot of pies. I think the Irish Heritage Center here keeps in contact with him, as well as several immigration trusts. I think he'll be pleased to finally have me helping him." Patrick took a bite of one of the cakes and he made a sound of profound appreciation low in his throat. "Dewi," he whispered once he had swallowed. "These are perfection."
"Well that sounds very ambitious. It'll definitely keep you busy." David smiled at Patrick and stole a cake for himself, ignoring his own advice and rebelliously stuffing it all in his mouth. "Delicious!" he said, though you could barely make it out around the dough.
Patrick covered his mouth and he laughed at David trying to talk about his entire cake. Despite being 1,623 years old, it was still hilarious. "Keeping busy means keeping out of trouble," he said when he swallowed the rest of his cake. "Do you ever talk to Dewi Sant in Wales?"
David shrugged a shoulder. "Not really. I don't know what to say to him. He keeps pretty busy too." Plus, the whole notion of having multiple versions of himself was more than a little weird, and it still gave him the willies a bit.
"It's usually that way with Padraig as well. We keep to ourselves because we never know quite what to say to each other unless he have to. I don't think I've ever spoken to the English George or Dewi Sant in Wales though. Not since Padraig and I were the same person and you were...them." Patrick shook his head. "I'm just going to eat more cakes and pretend what I said made sense."
David smiled, and slid more cakes onto Patrick's plate. "Eat up, Pat. The world doesn't make sense any more."
Patrick paused with one of the cakes to his mouth, but he put it back on the plate when Dewi made his little announcement. "What?" Patrick asked quietly. "What do you mean?"
David shrugged a shoulder. "I don't mean anything by it. I was being flippant." He gave Patrick a smile. "You want a drink of juice or milk?"
"No, I don't want a drink," Patrick said quietly. He didn't want to ruin David's good mood, so he let it go. "Just the cakes are wonderful."