Who: Cormac and Alicia Where: The Tree house in his backyard When: Friday, late morning. What: Mac's "processing" Rating: Cormac likes to swear.
Cormac brushed off some snow, put down some of the bags that he'd brought back with him, and sat himself down on the ground in up in the tree house in his back yard. Sure he was a little cold, but he'd take care of that soon enough. He leaned his back against one of the posts and just sat there looking over his back yard. He needed a little time to process all of this, get pull himself together before facing Alicia. Not that it would be such a bad thing, but as, well, he couldn't really speak of any of this to anyone (minus the other five in a unbreachable setting) without, well, dying he had to pick himself up. And that's what he was going to do. He'd stopped by the brewery quickly and picked up a bottle of firewhiskey from the stock room and headed home. He wasn't sure why he'd picked the tree house, but here he sat none the less, opening up the bottle he took a nice long drink of it. It burned going down, but damn did it hit the spot.
He rolled his head back and closed his eyes for a moment and flashes of what he saw yesterday came to the forefront of his mind. He'd seen them. First he saw his parents, together just looking at him. He couldn't read their expressions, but the looked like the last time he had seen them. But it wasn't until he saw Ryan and Rebeca that it really started to shake him. They were just there...his pretty twenty-year old sister holding onto his older brother's hand. After that...something just...snapped. He'd been able to fool himself for a while that maybe they weren't dead. That maybe they'd just...disappeared somewhere and couldn't get home. Of course this sounded entirely stupid to him now. How could he have been so stupid to think otherwise? Cormac opened up his eyes and struggled to keep himself from losing it completely. Despite his best efforts he felt warm tears fall from his eyes, he'd done his best to keep it together in front of Greg and Connor last night. He didn't say much to either of the men, because in his mind, men didn't pout, men didn't cry in front of people, men didn't have girl-moments.
But he was alone now, and yet he was still wasn't willing just to give into what his head seemed to want to do. So, he drank from his bottle again, and just tried to get whatever this was through his head and just fucking deal with it. He wasn't sure how long he'd been up there, but somewhere around the half way mark of his bottle he started to feel calmer. Less panicked, he still didn't know what he'd say to Alicia, but whatever it was going to be, he figured it'd help to at least not be freaking out about it. And he wasn't even going to start thinking about what happened with Mr. Weasely. No. He'd have to deal with that later. Right now, he had to deal with the images of his siblings staring at him. How he'd wanted to reach out to them, how he wanted to say he was sorry for everything, how he'd been a shitty brother growing up, how he just wanted to hug his little sister and big brother. God fucking damnit. Cormac swirled the ever shrinking contents of his bottle for a moment as he started to take deeper breaths to just get a grip on himself, his chest started to feel tight again, and he was really starting to struggle. But he couldn't. He sat there, tears streaming down his face, crying like a fucking baby. He was ashamed, and yet thankful that even if someone were to see him right now, his head was between his knees so at least they couldn't see him like this.
Eventually, he calmed down, he wiped his face against the softness of his leather jacket, and started looking out at his back yard again. He wasn't sure why, maybe it was because he'd saw her, or it was just some random memory coming back to him, but he started to remember his mother singing softly, usually to Rebeca, just looping in his mind. And before he knew it, he was saying/singing them softly too.
"You may travel far far from your own native home. Far away 'oer the mountains far away 'oer the foam. But of all the fine places that I've ever seen, there's none to compare with The Cliffs of Dooneen..."