Who: Patrick, Padraig and Clio What: Visits! When: Thursday afternoon Where: Clio's! Notes: Sorry this is late! I spent yesterday basically curled on the floor.
The meeting at the Irish Heritage Center had gone extraordinarily well. Padraig had introduced Patrick to the people he would need to know, and they had loved his idea for helping Irish immigrants. Tomorrow, they would meet up with the clergy involved in the archdiocese of New York and try their luck there. Until then, Padraig and Patrick had free time, and Clio had asked to meet Padraig. He seemed interested in meeting her too, and Patrick trusted his other self enough to know he wouldn't be horrible to her even though she wasn't Christian.
Patrick knocked on Clio's door, clutching a box of gourmet cookies. His relationship with her had long ceased to be about simply helping him remember his life and possibly changing perception of him. He adored her, considered her one of his closest friends, and mostly he just wanted Padraig to meet someone he felt was truly important in his life.
The thought of a being having more then one presence within the world was fascinating to her. She doubted the Greeks were strong enough for them to have a part of themselves in Greece (and with their ego's she knew it was better not to find this out), so she'd been over the moon to know another Patrick was coming here.
It was a strange thought, but she knew it would help her Patrick and perhaps she could learn more.
She opened the door with a grin, for a moment watching the two very different, yet so very much the same, beings for a while. "Wow. Glitch in the Matrix. Oh, cookies." She waved them in, closing the door behind them then stealing a hug from 'her' Patrick, then offered her hand to the Irish version. "Hi, welcome to the Americas. I'm Clio."
Patrick snorted and he reached out for a hug pretty much at the same time she did. He kissed her hair and bent over to say, "Hello, Tiny!Muse!" even though the baby couldn't yet hear.
Padraig gave Patrick a strange look, and then he took Clio's hand. "Pleasure," he said with a kind smile. "Patrick has told me a lot about you. I'm Padraig. You have a lovely home."
She grinned to the greeting, "Tiny!Muse is making me nauseous so we're not on good terms today." she should have expected the morning sickness though. It hadn't changed from the last times. "But it says hello, and I imagine once it starts kicking everyone will be all over it."
She shook Padraig's hand before releasing it, "must be lovely missing half of the conversation. And whatever he said it's probably true. Thank you. Come in, make yourself at home. Tea?"
"Oh no!" Patrick said, immediately taking Clio's arm. He knew she could make it to the sofa herself, but she said she felt nauseated and Patrick was the protective and caring sort. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
Padraig stepped back, smiling to himself. He may not have been overly pleased by all the changes in Patrick's behaviour, but he did like that his American self was so absolutely caring. "Tea would be brilliant, though I have a feeling Patrick might retaliate my acceptance of your offer."
"I can make tea!" Patrick said quickly. "Do you want me to make tea, Clio?"
The care and worry made her laugh and she took Patrick's hand, "I'm fine. Jesus Patrick what will you do when I'm the size of a small whale?" She grinned then, "one day you're going to make the most adorable dad." She realized her curse and her guest and grinned at him, "sorry. Blaspheming Pagan of the most horrid sort."
She shook her head, "I'll make tea Patrick. Sit, please. The both of you." She couldn't help but continue to smile as she made some tea, setting the cups down before sitting down and studying Padraig. "This is all sorts of cool. I don't know if I have a Matrix-clone running about so tell me how are you enjoying your trip so far?"
"I will wait on you because that is what I do," Patrick said fondly. "You think I'll make a good dad?"
Padraig smiled and he shook his head. "It's alright, it's not really blaspheming if you don't prescribe to the religion."
Patrick sat like he was told to, beside himself.
"The trip has been very successful so far," Padraig said with a nod. "Patrick and I just stopped by the Irish Heritage Center for a meeting with the people who run it. We are looking to put in place a means of assistance for emigrants from my country to here. And George and Sebastian want to take us sightseeing which will be interesting."
"To say the least," Patrick giggled.
Grinning she nodded, "you just offered to wait on me and it's not even yours. Tiny!Muse is just your godchild and you're already fussing like mad. You'll make a great dad one day."
She chuckled, letting go of some of her fears. This was so important to Patrick. She wanted it to go well. "Well I kind of watched it grow so it's hard. Talk about weird though."
"If I can help just let me know. That goes for the both of you." She raised an eyebrow, "lucky, I've yet to meet these two." She smirked at Patrick, teasing him, before looking at Padraig. "So hows it work exactly being two people yet being the same?"
Patrick beamed, pleased Clio thought he would be a good father. Patrick loved kids. If John never wanted them, Patrick would be well and truly satisfied being godfather to Tiny!Muse, but it was nice to know he had a voice of confidence from Clio.
Padraig chuckled and he smiled, "I can imagine that would make it harder to believe, yes!"
"I think it helps that we don't look alike," Patrick said softly.
I would agree with that statement," Padraig nodded. "And our personalities are different. It is nice having someone with the same memories. Or...he will have them once they return to him."
She was happy enough to have seemingly made Patrick's day with her comment. He'd spend so long making her feel better, it was nice to do it in return. "You have no idea. One day it was all 'oh hey, we don't like you guys' and the next it was 'so, they're our boss now'. And then well," she waved her hand, "you didn't cross an ocean to hear my viewpoints on these matters."
She frowned and studied the two, "there's some similarities. If you look hard enough." She grinned then, "yes, and I've got a book for you. I'm sorry it took so long, but between my going crazy and Tiny!Muse I just got...busy. It'll be published this spring. It's not much, but something."
"Clio, it's amazing," Patrick assured her. The fact that she had done so much for him meant the world to him.
"A book?" Padraig inquired, since Patrick hadn't fully explained what Clio was doing for him. He had gotten stuck on simply explaining what a good friend she was because he thought she was kind, hilarious, and awesome.
She smiled, "no amazing would be doing my Muse-job and getting more then one book out. It's a start, that's what it is. But now your counterpart is here, and if he doesn't mind, he can tell me things you may not remember and bring more things to light."
She blinked, then smiled. "Oh. It's how we met. Sort of. I was doing research on a personal project and Michael asks me if I could help one of his Saint friends. Seeing Christianity is not something I'm familiar with I said why not. I told Patrick to write down whatever he remembers, I'd inspire historians to write about the actual...well you guys instead of the entire other thing common perception made you." Grinning she shrugged, "Somewhere he grew on me, like some redheaded mole. I'm terribly fond of him now, and he's helped me. In return my brother kidnaps him, which I'm still so sorry about by the way."
Patrick snorted and he sipped his tea when Padraig made a slightly horrified face. "And it's still fine," Patrick reassured Clio. "Can she ask you questions, Padraig?"
"Of course. I would be delighted to fill in any blanks, though I worry for you, Patrick. If I mention something unpleasant, I don't want you to be shocked."
Patrick pulled his mug away from his lips and he licked them, thinking about that. "I'll be okay," he said, hoping it was true.
She smirked to the face Padraig made, "I'm Greek. My family's interesting, and Hermes, love him as I do, decided that clearly because Patrick spends so much time with me he was the one responsible for my being pregnant. So he kidnaps him into doing the 'right thing', which honestly the hypocrisy of that is just astounding."
She frowned to that, "I can wait Patrick, really. I'll just harass the other you into giving me email information and I'll ask my questions that way. I don't have to ask them now."
Padraig just looked nonplussed and Patrick giggled again. "It's really okay, ask away! I mean, if you want," Patrick assured her. "Hell, if you talk about something I don't remember, then it might fill things in and I want to remember. The good, the bad...everything."
Smiling she set her hand on Patrick's "Alright but if it's too much you tell me." She looked to Padraig then, "alright. Start at the beginning. Your life when you were younger, before then entire everything really."
Patrick settled in as well, dead silent now. There was a lot he didn't remember about his youth.
"Do yo want to hear about my family?" Padraig asked, and then his eyes widened when Patrick shouted 'YES!'. "Heh. It seems that is an affirmative. I grew up in the town of Bannaventa Bernaie, but my family had a villa on the outskirts of the town and that was my favourite place. It was also the place I was taken from, but that was much later. My upbringing was normal for a Romanus nobleman at the time. It was my parents and myself. All references to a sister named 'Lupita' are erroneous," he said with an air of annoyance.
Her fingers curled around her cup, making sure to shift all her attention on Padraig when he spoke. The annoyance made her smile, "I'll keep it in mind. So tell us what it was like growing up with your parents and such? What was your home like? Was it loving, strict, did your father make you heir." She shrugged, "things like that I find fascinating. The details you can't just find on plaques or in books. Things that only people can teach you."
Padraig smiled, looking pleased that someone actually wanted to know. Most people weren't interested in that part of his life at all. "My home life was both loving and strict. My father was a deacon in the church, though he did this for the tax breaks and not so much for the church itself. I grew up with the teachings, but I never really believed them. I was much closer to my mother than my father, but they were both loving people. If they hadn't been, I wouldn't have worked so hard to get back to them.
"I was a headstrong child. I think I caused them much consternation as I indulged in every sin a young boy finds pleasant. They didn't like it and I was punished, but never severely. And yes, I was heir to the family estate, but I gave that up the enter the church years later."
It wasn't just for her she wanted to know. Patrick needed to hear this as well, to know the family he had come from. Smiling she listened, laughing at the mention of sin. "Sorry, I remember those times. Everything shifted then. Good became bad, pleasure became sin. Terrible loss really. I enjoyed Roman times. Now there was a party."
Smirking she sat back, "please. Continue. People so rarely indulge me in the little facts. It's always dates and big events and I can't tell them enough that it's people that make history. Not facts."
Padraig so rarely got asked. It wasn't indulging at all. He was a little excited that someone cared to know.
"My grandfather was a priest and so when we worshipped, it was always at one of his services. I remember just seeing him as my grandfather, not a man of God. I don't think that helped my spiritual life any as a young child."
Patrick was listening, fascinated. The man in front of him was talking about his family. His childhood. He didn't remember any of it. "Padraig, was we really erm...not very pleasant young men?"
Padraig chuckled. "I don't know about that. We weren't always kind and we were rather selfish. But we were young, Patrick. We were young and privileged. We didn't know any better."
She loved hearing all this. She was glad Patrick had brought his other self over. She wouldn't have gotten this opportunity otherwise. "The drawback to Roman Nobility. You get taught you're better then everyone else. And so you act it." She smiled, "seen it before. All young people have moments like that. The good ones mature. The rest call ourselves Olympians." She grinned and rose, setting a hand on her couch. "Okay I think the dizzy is telling me to eat. So if you boys are hungry I've got some Greek cheeses in my fridge and then we can continue this."
She grinned at Padraig, "I so want to keep you and listen forever." She blinked, "And we're creepy. At least I'm not turning you into something right?"
Padraig laughed and Patrick nearly jumped up to help Clio, but decided she might swat at him, so he stayed put. "I love cheese," he did say.
Padraig gave Patrick an amused look and he said, "thank you for refraining from turning me into anything, yes. And you're right. My upbringing allowed me to act the way I did. I did things that hurt people, though never too badly, and I felt no remorse." Then he added, "I will tell you anything you want to know while I am here, but if you think of questions later, I do have an email address and can attend to questions there."
She gave Patrick a look. "I'm fine, just haven't had lunch yet." She shook her head and got the cheeses, returning with them and happily devouring most of them.
She chuckled, "but on the contrast you can go home and be like 'oh my stars, those Americans are mad. One of them turned me into a bird.'" Smirking she handed out plates to the two, "dig in before I eat them all. I seem to eat more every day." She nodded, "so very Roman of you, and thank you." She grinned brightly. "I might stalk you just a little. I have such a weakness for historical people."
Padraig laughed and he took some cheese, though not too much. "I can assure you, I don't mind! Are you sure you're not bored of hearing about my family tree? There was nothing remarkable about it. Not like yours."
She grinned, "Excellent. My plan to continue dominating the world through collecting cute Saints will continue then." She scoffed, "my family tree is an Escher painting on crack. So I like hearing about those with a normal family, not the kind of family that goes and turns into a bull because they felt like it." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "My dad's a winner. Love him to death, not the brightest crayon though."
Patrick leaned back against the sofa, smiling at Clio. "I like your stories either way."
"I never actually took a moment to thank my lucky stars that Zeus is not my father, but let it be said I am taking that moment now," Padraig said with a smile.
"Oh I don't know." she smiled playfully, "according to the things Patrick here's been finding out he's going around all turning people into other things and giving them new faces. I'm starting to think we're related." She grinned deviously, "so hey maybe who knows. Dad's very good at the 'look at me, I'm someone else now' joke."
Padraig looked utterly confused and Patrick just patted his leg. "I think that one went over his head," Patrick said with a smirk. "You can keep talking, Padraig. If you want."
Padraig knew it was really Patrick who wanted him to keep talking, but he didn't call attention to that fact. "I think the most important point was that I was happy. No matter how selfish or unaware of the world around me, I was happy. I enjoyed my life. It made being dragged away from it so much worse."
She laughed then and set her cheese down before it went everywhere. "Oh I know it did. Allow me to feel clever." Grinning she motioned for him to continue.
"I can't even imagine what that must have been like." She'd been hurt yes, and she still felt the splinters of what Lucifer had done to her, but she'd never been taken away from her sisters. She didn't think she'd survive it.
"It was the worst thing in the world," Patrick said, because that he remembered.
"It was," Padraig agreed. "Even the Tower of London wasn't as bad as being ripped from my family. At least there I knew George was with me there."
She frowned, not liking that he'd suffered so. But that's what made Saints, Saints. They got martyred and had to go through a lot. Then again, her family could be crueler still to mortals. "I'm sorry."
Padraig smiled and he nodded, accepting her sorrow. Patrick actually moved to hug her. "Thank you," he whispered, letting Clio soothe him.
She smiled into the hug, running her hand along his back. "Oh it's alright, you do the same for me."
Patrick pulled back from the hug smiling. "Of course I do. And will continue to do!"
She grinned then made a face, "you're going to make me all weepy you big sap." smiling she kissed his cheek and looked to Padraig, "I'd offer you a hug too but it might seem creepy. And if you have any questions yourself feel free to ask. Unfortunately I was never in Ireland. Just England, and then only to stalk Shakespeare. Poor man."
Patrick grinned but he went to sit down again, so as not to make Clio weepy on purpose.
Padraig didn't look like he minded either way. "And why was Shakespeare poorer for having you stalk him?"
She rolled her eyes and handed him the plate of cheese, "three Muses, all going 'no he likes me more', and 'write for me'. We get strange around people we really want to sleep with. And we could all see his potential. Safe to say the poor man had his hands full keeping us all happy." She smirked, "having Greeks fight over you tends to end poorly."
"Ah, I can see how being in the middle of a family feud would not be preferable," Padraig said with a nod.
Patrick took another bit of cheese and he chewed thoughtfully. "I think I remember going to one of his plays with Georgie. Padraig, do I remember that?"
Padraig grinned and he clapped Patrick on the back a little too hard (purely accidentally), causing Patrick to squeak. "You do! He took us to hear a play at the Globe! Oh gosh, what was it? Hamlet, I believe. The main actor had to kick an audience member off-stage and back into the pit. He was drunk and he was trying to climb up and give Hamlet a hug because he 'wasn't having a very nice time'."
"I remember!" Patrick squealed gleefully.
That made her laugh, the image of someone giving Hamlet a hug was rather amusing. and it was good to see Patrick remembering more. "I wish I would have seen that. I never saw the plays after he died, not for a long time. Even now I bring Thalia and Mel along and we go out drinking afterwards and lament the loss of a great one. We did the same when Carlin died."
"The loss of someone so talented is always lamentable," Padraig said, and Patrick nodded, though he was still smiling, basking in the glow of remembering something.
"I remember when Yeats died. Now he was an interesting chap."
Patrick snapped to attention. "Yeats! You knew Yeats!" That wasn't a matter of not remembering. Patrick had been in the US by the time Yeats was born. By several decades.
It got her attention as well, "now you have to share. I only read things about him so indulge my geeky side." And it seemed to be something Patrick was interested in as well.
"His opinions on the Easter Rising were interesting enough, as was his involvement with Maud Gonne. But the most interesting thing about him was his involvement in the occult. He was a member of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, among other things. He was a friend, and though we never agreed on beliefs, we enjoyed discussing them." Padraig shot a look at Patrick and Patrick understood it immediately. Padraig wouldn't have been able to discuss faith like that without judging, were it not for John and the time they spent together during the Marian raids.
She smirked, "I'm being very good at not giggling about any Hermetic Orders. I still don't know if my brother thought it would be funny or not. Please continue. I always enjoy discussing theology, my problem is my being Greek and my instinctual response to go 'no. I'm History. I'm always right.'" She shrugged. "Horrible flaw of mine."
"I think most people have that instinctual response, and the difference is, you have the knowledge to back it up," Padraig said easily. "Yeats often spoke about the ghosts in his home or the seances he had planned. I found it all fascinating, even if I didn't agree."
She laughed, "oh don't feed the Greek's Ego. It ends poorly. I try very hard not to do it though. It's not nice." she smiled, "there are ghosts though, I have several who can prove that, but now I wish I'd met the man. Damn."
"It was more the seances I had trouble understanding and believing," Padraig explained. He had seen enough by then to know that ghosts existed, even if he wouldn't have believed in them during his life time. "But he talked about it with such passion and he listened to me when I spoke. He was fascinating."
"I wish I'd met him too," Patrick said, sounding impressed.
"They're easy to rig, and 90% of the time they aren't real. But when they are, well I've seen a few real ones. Humans will always try to communicate with the dead in some ways. Makes them more at ease knowing there is a beyond and it can be accessed." She smiled, "anyone else you've met in your years?"
"Many people," Padraig said thoughtfully. He didn't feel much like speaking about the revolutionaries he had met, since it was a difficult topic to focus on. "But Yeats was the main literary man. What about you, Patrick?"
"Oh..." Patrick looked uncomfortable. "Uhm. Nope."