Son of the Granite, Son of the Wind

(TM) 305. To Those Who Have Gone Before

2009-11-01T22:11:50Z

Write about something you've outlived.

He never failed to open it, on the rare occasions he visited his parents. A chest, four feet by two, made of dark bog wood, planed and polished, inscribed with intricate knotwork and subtle symbols. He left it in his father's castle to keep the contents safe, for he knew that if ever that ancient structure fell, the bedrock of his world would already have been destroyed.

Ruairí could think of no better place to keep the box than here, protected by solid stone, his mother's gifts and the timeless air of Faerie.

He knelt before it now, lifting items too seemingly ordinary to warrant such protection and care. The white and scarlet jacket an old man had worn for his last race, the race that had claimed his life. A halter made from hand-twisted rope that the same old man had carried with him under his shirt, though not the same one he'd used to unknowingly capture a certain púca. That rope had long since fallen apart, returning to the straw from which it came.

There was more. A statue of the Virgin Mary, hand-painted nearly two centuries ago. A deck of cards, worn from much use. A priest's chasuble, its seams pulled and its neck partly shredded by strong equine teeth. Photographs of and drawings made by the human girl that Ruairí had called his daughter. All mementos, not that he needed to use them as such. His memory was even more retentive than the horses whose shape he could assume.

But most of the items in the chest had belonged to one woman he'd never expected to outlive. He felt his eyes sting as he lifted books, a black knit shawl, more photos, one braided lock of ink-black hair. A gold wedding ring, tucked into a linen drawstring bag. His throat tightened, and he wished he could cry as easily as the people who'd once owned the items in his chest.

"Ah, Máire." he sighed. "A century could never be enough ... and yet it has to be." Ruairí snorted softly before switching from Gaeilge to Fae. "I can hear you breathing, Old White. If you've come to say 'I told you so', you may as well get it over with."

Separating himself from the shadows surrounding the entryway he'd been leaning against, Eibhear crossed the room. "I should hope after all this time that you'd know better, my son." He laid his hands on Ruairí's shoulders. "But understanding why you've chosen to bind your life to those you can only outlive doesn't make watching the end result any easier."

"I … know." Ruairí looked up, his eyes offering apologies that didn't quite reach his words.

Eibhear's own deep eyes flicked from keepsake to keepsake, the grief in them a distant and ancient thing. "And who will be next then, to leave some small gift to weigh on your heart and mind in centuries to come? Do you even know?"

A picture flickered in Ruairí's mind's eye, that of a sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued brunette he'd shared a dinner with only a week ago. A dinner and a long, long kiss goodnight. He stayed silent.

Watching keenly, the older púca sighed and shook his head. "Ruairí, my son. When your own children start collections such as this, do you think you'll find it any easier than I do?"

Another picture, this one of his youngest Caitlín's eyes darkening as she touched the delicate silver cross her mother had once worn, resting now against her own breast. "They already have," Ruairí husked. "And no. I don't."

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 597

Speak as you will ...

2009-10-01T05:18:31Z

Confession Meme // I'm listening

OOC: And the rest of my characters are here too.

From my family

2009-09-13T06:34:23Z

Go here and reload until you get five quotes that sum up your philosophy or outlook, then post them.

Many men can make a fortune but very few can build a family.
J. S. Bryan

Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), 'Measure for Measure'

Everything you can imagine is real.
Pablo Picasso (1881 - 1973)

Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.
Confucius (551 BC - 479 BC)

I wish you sunshine on your path and storms to season your journey. I wish you peace in the world in which you live... More I cannot wish you except perhaps love to make all the rest worthwhile.
Robert A. Ward

sonofgranite @ 2009-08-31T22:42:00

2009-09-01T05:43:10Z

Six Impossible Things :: my thread

(TM) 292. Show and Tell

2009-08-01T02:51:35Z

Show and tell.

"So then, lass," Ruairí said brightly, "are you ready for your jumping lesson?"

"Yes, sir!" Traci was all but bouncing on her toes, she was so ready.

"Then you know how to start."

The eleven-year-old did indeed. Under her instructor's watchful eye, she checked the palomino gelding's tack for fit, making sure it was both secure and comfortable. Finn stood placidly under the examination, already well used to both jumping and novice riders.

As she worked, Ruairí quizzed the girl on the points she'd need to remember. "As you take the jump, where should you be looking?"

"Straight ahead, at something in the distance. Not at the jump."

"And what should you hold onto?"

"The reins and a piece of mane."

"Because …?"

"Because I don't want to catch him in the mouth when he comes down." After a brief pause, the little blonde gave him a cheeky grin. "That's the basic release. I'll learn more advanced ones as we go."

Ruairí laughed. "Good girl. You keep reading up."

By the time Ruairí finished all his questions, Traci had swung up into the saddle, eager to start. The silver-haired man looked over at the cavaletti he'd set up. "All right, Traci, take him around the ring a couple of times, then walk him over the pole. Make sure your approach is straight. Once you're comfortable at the walk, we'll try trotting."

As the lesson progressed with Ruairí correcting form as needed, he found himself thinking back to his very first riding student more than a century ago, Tobias Blondell. On the surface there was little to compare between the bubbly girl on the palomino and the introverted, often stiff-necked squire's son back in Carraroe. But when Ruairí broke through the boy's reserve with a successful lesson, he uncovered an eager enthusiasm that burned as brightly in Toby's eyes then as it did in Traci's now.

Of course Ruairí hadn't instructed Toby during his jumping lessons. He'd been the horse underneath the lad.

"Mr. MacEibhir! Can I try a crossrail yet?"

"I think you're ready, lass. Let me get one into position, and then you can show me."

Release: the techniques used by a rider to give a horse as much rein as it needs, necessary in jumping to avoid hurting the horse's mouth with the bit.

Cavaletti: poles on low supports, used for a variety of purposes in equitation, including training novice riders or horses for the jump.

Crossrail: A jump in which two poles form a squashed X, which encourages the horse to jump over the lower center portion.

The mun is not an experienced equestrian, so if you are and notice some mistakes, feel free to PM with concrit. ^_^

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 362

Swiped from nearly everyone

2009-07-01T08:10:29Z

I've given my characters a healthy dose of Veritaserum and now they have to tell the truth. What does this mean for you? Ask my characters questions about anything and everything and they will truthfully answer it. So, go ahead and ask what you want. He can't beat around the bush with half-truths.

Púca Alert!

2009-06-27T02:54:44Z

Over in oldest son Anraí's journal, you will find a series of drabbles commemorating a very special moment for the MacEibhir family. Enjoy!

(TM) 283. Speaking in tongues

2009-05-31T07:08:51Z

What languages do you speak?

"The squire has more Gaelic than you have English, my lad. A man who speaks only his cradle tongue can't cast aspersions at others."

"Don't be mistaking Gaelic for my first language, Donncha. Nor me for a lad."

I grew up speaking the language of my kind. Most humans who know of it call our tongue Fae, or some other variation on the names they have given my people. It is a language of silk and stone, of ice and flame, that can sound like bird calls, rushing water and the ring of metal all at once. Our tongue changes as slowly as we do, and those humans who hear it do not forget the hearing, whether or not they recognize it as speech.

But I also spent much time in Éire, watching, listening to and eventually speaking with the people there. With the sponge-like tendencies of the young of any race, I absorbed Irish Gaelic with a fair amount of ease. Granted I occasionally got details of pronunciation wrong, not because of any lack in my learning, but because of the quicksilver way that human languages change and shift according to their use. The process gave me what others have often referred to as an "antique" accent. If they only knew ...

Certainly I never felt any temptation to learn any of the other tongues that took root on the fair isle in the ensuing centuries. Not only did I have other interests taking up my time, I saw no need to make the effort.

Fairies have certain advantages in communication, after all.

"In the center of four walls, my friend, and on a floor, I have no English, for I have never learned it. But on my own earth … there I can speak to anyone."

When I speak to someone in my native land, standing on solid ground and under open sky, I can understand them no matter what language they use. Whatever language I speak; they understand me in their own tongue. No need to bother with tedious lessons with such a gift, or so I thought.

My blackbird Máire held a differing opinion. She saw the changes that would come to Ireland and the rest of the world as the twentieth century wore on and determined to ensure that her family had the skills to weather those changes. Pained as she was by the shrinking use of Gaeilige in our own country, she nevertheless decided that I should learn English, though she had little love for the language. Besides, as she informed me tartly, it would be considerably more convenient if I could understand people whether or not we happened to be outdoors.

Little did she realize she was taking on a long, often frustrating project. Believing that I would never leave Connemara, much less Ireland, I at first studied the bewildering tongue only to humor her. Our boys, however, learned right along with me and much quicker than I did, mastering three languages at once. With their help, Máire gradually dinned English into my slow but stubbornly retentive memory.

Decades later, though it seemed barely any time at all, the Troubles tore my dark rose from us. Ireland seemed too painfully full of memories for my children and I to remain, at least for a time. Máire was wiser than she realized, to insist that I stop relying on my fae understanding and learn that third language. I only wish that I could tell her so.

Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word Count: 510 (excluding quotes)

Have at it!

2009-05-25T01:17:16Z

The How's My Driving? Meme

A complete list of characters is behind the link.

(TM) 280. Deep Thoughts

2009-05-19T06:03:56Z

What do you think?

“Sooo ...” Abby drawled. “What do you think?”

“Mmm?” Ruairí blinked and smiled down at the petite brunette under his arm. They'd just finished lunch with Cait, and he'd offered to walk his Dr. Lockhart back to the hospital for her afternoon shift. “About what, love?”

She gave him one of those looks that clearly said she thought he was being deliberately dense. “I can't believe you're asking. Breaker Street's GMA spot this morning? Your son on stage, screaming crowd, national TV exposure … were you there, or did Cait and I spend the whole time standing next to one of those life-size cardboard cutout replicas?”

“Ah.” He gave her a squeeze as they walked. “They did beautifully. I knew the first time we saw them play that they'd likely get this kind of attention, especially with Robin's help. Of course it's a bit odd for me to compare the man up on stage with the little boy in church choir all those decades ago--”

Abruptly turning in front of him, Abby brought both his feet and his words to a halt with a smack to his chest. “Ruairí. You know damn good and well I'm not talking about their musical ability.”

“I do?” He did. In truth, he did.

“Of course you do.” Exasperation took over her expression. “Because even with all of the congratulations you heaped on the band, every time none of them were looking you got this wrinkle in your forehead. The same one you've got now, by the way.” She poked him in said wrinkle to forestall any denials. “Something's worrying you. So you can tell me now, or I'll get Cait to help me dig it out of you later. Your call.”

Not too drastic as threats went, but it did stir up Ruairí's recent memory. He'd sat at Tadhg's table in Santa Barbara and lectured all four of his children on how they needed to stop being so stubbornly independent and start talking to each other when troubles arose. They were family; they were supposed to rely on each other. Abby was family too, as uncomfortable as she sometimes seemed with the idea. He couldn't brush her question aside without indulging in more hypocrisy than he felt comfortable with just then.

Plus she'd likely hit him again.

Gently he guided her over to a nearby shop front window, out of the worst of the foot traffic, where they only garnered a few isolated glares from their fellow pedestrians. He could think better there, and gods knew he needed to figure out how to explain a very fey situation to his very human lover.

“Tadhg told me,” he sighed, “that Rory's audiences have a definite effect on him. You've heard about musicians and other stage performers feeding off the energy of the crowd? Because he's fey, Rory apparently can carry that metaphor to a more literal level.” A furrow had started on Abby's brow to match the one on his. “He draws feelings, impulses, all kinds of emotional energy from the people watching and listening to him. With Tadhg's warning I was able to see some of what was happening, though not in as great a detail as he could.

“I didn't expect such an intense end result though. He was … nearly blazing.” Frustrated at the lack of better terms in English, Ruairí raked the fingers of one hand through his silver hair. “Tadhg worried that maybe larger audiences would have a deeper effect on Rory, and it looks like he may have been right.”

“Deeper effect.” Abby was definitely frowning by now. “What kind of effect are we talking about here? Something that could overload his nervous system?” She'd entered doctor-mode, he could see. “Performers also talk about craving that crowd energy, having a need for it.” Her teeth caught at her full lower lip for a moment. “Ruairí, could this whatever-it-is-hoodoo become addictive?”

A most logical question for a doctor to ask, especially a doctor with an addiction of her own. His mouth opened in automatic denial. Rory was púca, after all. Alcohol had no power over his kind, nor did nicotine or a host of other drugs. Púca just didn't do addictions.

But his jaw hung suspended, the words unspoken. Tadhg's worries and his own combined to still his tongue.

“I don't know, Abby,” he whispered at last. “I don't know.”

abbytude appears with permission from her magnificent mun. The link to Rory's journal in the third paragraph leads to a post that contains RP of a sexual nature involving two men in the comments, so don't read all the way down if you're offended by such material plskthx.

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 756

OOC RP Meme

2009-05-11T03:14:02Z

Answer whichever questions you feel like answering, since not all of these will apply to everyone. ^_^

1. Who are you?
2. Yay! How long have we been RPing together?
3. What was your first impression about our Rps? (i.e., were you nervous, intimidated, disappointed, impressed, amused, annoyed?)
4. First characters we played together?
5. Most amusing scene from one of our Rps?
6. Most depressing?
7. Sappiest/most romantic?
8. Cutest couple from our Rps?
9. Cutest friends?
10. What's your favorite character that I play? Why?
11. Least favorite? Why?
12. Something you'd like to RP/see happen in an RP with me at some point (no matter how random!)?
13. Name a song that reminds you of one of our couples/one of my characters and why you chose it.
14. Anything in particular that makes my style of RPing stand out from others'?
15. Anything I could improve on?
16. Character of mine you'd like to see more of?

Friday - A MacEibhir Family Glossary

2009-05-09T05:42:46Z

This prompt gives me a handy opportunity to supply a list of terms both English and Irish that crop up in writing and RP, not only for my boy Ruairí MacEibhir (sonofgranite), but for his children Anraí (thehorseman), Rory (fey_fire), Tadhg (gifted_hands) and Caitlín (a_chaitlin). You may also see them in the lj for his future grandson Liam (marcusisaspaz) and other related journals.

Púca: What Ruairí and his four children are, namely Irish fairies with the ability to shift shape to that of a horse. Púca as a race are tricky to define, and many inaccuracies have slipped into the legends humans tell about the creatures. Some púca can shift into a variety of forms, but the horse is the most common.

Connemara: A seaside district in the Irish Province of Connacht, in the west portion of County Galway. It consists of a broad peninsula between Killary Harbour and Kilkieran Bay and contains a large chunk of the county's Gaeltacht, or Irish-speaking regions.

Carraroe: An Cheathrú Rúa in Gaeilge (Irish Gaelic), the Red Quarter. A village in Connemara, situated on a peninsula between Greatman's Bay (Cuan an Fhir Mhóir) and Casla Bay. Ruairí's wife, Máire NiStandún MacEibhir, was born and raised in the village. The couple raised their children nearby, in a house built up against Knockduff Mountain.

Wards: Wards are spells of protection and alarm, something that any of the family can cast, but Tadhg shows the greatest skill. My characters usually use the term to refer to either a place spell cast around the perimeters of their homes, or the protective medallions that Tadhg cast and ensorcelled for each family member.

The black door: The door separating life and death, or this world and the next. One of the key differences between human and fae is that fairies return from beyond the black door, while humans go onward. What this separation means to Ruairí, both a púca and a baptized Christian, or to his half-fae deceased wife or part-human children, has yet to be determined.

Gaeilge - I do my best to include definitions for any Irish Gaelic phrases I use in my prompts, but occasionally bits creep into RP unannounced. Let me just say here that my actual knowledge of Gaeilge is minute but gradually growing, and I'm more than happy to accept constructive correction from anyone who spots an error.

a bhúachaill: my lad, boy

a chara: my friend

a chroí: my heart

a chuisle: my pulse, a shorter form of "a chuisle mo chroí", pulse of my heart

a muirnín: my beloved, darling, or sweetheart

a stor: my treasure

cac: dung, excrement

m'anam: my soul, usually used as an exclamation.

Note: "a" is the form of my used when addressing someone directly. If saying "my" to refer to someone or something, use "mo".

If anyone would like a definition for any other terms or phrases in my writing for these characters, feel free to leave a comment and I'll do my best to oblige. ^_^

sonofgranite @ 2009-02-19T15:25:00

2009-02-19T22:25:55Z

RP LOVE MEME

(TM) 267. Stepping in the middle

2009-02-05T23:46:12Z

In medias res.

“No one is accusing you of anything, a Chait--”

“Oh no? He is, and you've listened to him! More than bad enough, I should think!”

There was nothing quite like approaching the house while hearing within the distinctive sounds of an argument between my three youngest, especially on a day when my dark rose Máire was away and the parental reins had been left solely in my hands. Neither Rory, Tadhg nor Caitlín took any notice of me when I walked in the door, so deep in debate they were.

Like Tadhg, Rory tried to blend placation with his interrogation. “We're just trying to understand what happened, lass.”

“And I keep telling you, nothing!” Cait stood with the squared shoulders she'd inherited from her mother and the imperiously arched brows that clearly recalled mine. One might assume that my fourteen-year-old daughter would be over-matched by her two much taller and far older brothers, but one would be sadly mistaken. She was quite capable of standing off the both of them and Anraí too, had he been present.

Obviously I would have to step in if I wanted any hint as to what the trouble was. Three pairs of dark brown eyes snapped around to meet mine at my throat-clearing, each showing a blend of concern, frustration and wariness.

I looked at each in turn, projecting the same air of tranquil calm I found so useful in soothing fractious yearlings. “And what has you three so stirred up?”

Cait's expression instantly turned mutinous as she glowered at her brothers. Rory and Tadhg engaged in an eloquent exchange of looks-- Well, say something. You're the older. --before Rory sighed and spoke up.

“Tadhg and I overheard Peadar MacMathúna holding forth at Ó Ceallaigh's about quitting his job at the stables.” He glanced at his sister before continuing. “He changed the subject the moment someone pointed out to him that we were in the pub, but before that he strongly hinted that Cait was the reason he left.”

My eyes narrowed. When Peadar quit three days ago, my annoyance at the loss of a good hand had been mollified by the knowledge that the boy had been getting flirtatious with my only daughter and that Cait had just started to return his glances and smiles.

Tadhg added, “Rory and I made it clear that we didn't appreciate him spreading rumors about our sister, but there's no knowing whether he went on running his mouth once we'd left.”

I turned my attention to Cait and saw her wrap her arms around her chest, turning her pose from defiant to defensive. “Caitlín?”

The centuries I've lived may not have given me great wisdom, but the presence they have granted me weighed enough to gradually erode my girl's stubbornness. “Nothing happened, Da,” she muttered, flicking a resentful glance at the boys. “At least nothing that I couldn't handle.”

I could feel Rory and Tadhg start to tense. “That implies that something happened which you presumably did handle, a stor,” I said in a carefully detached tone. “What was it?”

Cait looked no more inclined to answer me than she was Rory or Tadhg, but after a long exhale and a scuff of her foot she did so. “He kissed me in the tack room when I turned around from hanging up some bridles,” she reluctantly confessed, staring at the floor just beyond her toes. “That wasn't so bad, even though I wasn't expecting it – and I wasn't!” That last she directed at her brothers, whose jaws were already tightening in a way that boded ill for young MacMathúna. “But then he ... he got grabby, I didn't appreciate it, and I gave him the point of my knee in a tender portion of his anatomy. And that was the end of it.”

Rory's scowl and Tadhg's clenching fists begged to differ. I drew a long breath in a effort to control my own ire, but Rory burst out, “And he actually thought he could get away with trying something with you and then telling tales about it afterward?! Right, Tadhg, we're going—”

Before I could get a word out, Cait took three strides across the room to smack the flat of one hand against his chest. “Just dry up, Rory!” she yelled, her sparking eyes glaring up at his startled ones. “This is why I didn't tell you in the first place; I knew you two would have a massive carry-on for no good reason!”

She took a step back to include Tadhg in her fury. “God and Mary, you gawping idiots, what on earth do you think he could do to me that I couldn't stop? I may not be a great big grown-up man, but I'm not such a weakling that I need the likes of you to defend my virtue!” After emphasizing likes of you with a finger jabbed in each brotherly chest, Cait spun on her heel and stormed out. “So just drop it!” She didn't even glance back as she shouted and slammed the door.

I caught my sons' shoulders as they started past me. “Enough, boys. I know you mean well, but let me talk to her.”

Rory and Tadhg wore near-identical looks of chagrin. “We didn't mean to embarrass her, Da,” Tadhg offered hesitantly.

“I know, lad, but it's still best I handle this, and Peadar as well.” They cut off their protests when I fixed each of them with a stern eye. “Let it lie, you two. Leave it to me. I mean it.”

Their nods of agreement were reluctant, to say the least, but I knew I'd be obeyed. I left the house to see Cait vaulting a fence into the next field. A hand over by the first barn watched her departure curiously, no doubt the only reason she was still in human form.

I trailed after her at a distance until she plunked herself down under a spreading oak. Drawing up her knees, Cait rested her chin on her folded arms and tilted her head forward to let her mass of dark curls hide her face. Having long since heard my approach, she didn't stir when I sat down beside her. “I'm sorry, Da,” she murmured. “I didn't mean to cost you a worker.”

“From the sound of things, a Chait, he's someone I don't want around my horses, let alone my daughter.” I slipped an arm around her, but still she did not look up. Her words continued to emerge from behind the dark curtain of her hair. “He—he just seemed so nice, and then ... I'm sorry.”

In Cait's posture and words I read something deeper than embarrassment, something that didn't belong on her slender shoulders: shame. She'd let herself be charmed by the handsome young hand, and now she blamed herself for the result. As if a fourteen year old, fey or otherwise, should be able to see through such pretty masks when even her father had been fooled.

'A realta, look up at me.” A long moment's pause and she did, pushing her hair back and leaning against my arm. “What you did, he deserved, and never doubt it. You've a right to defend yourself, and as your father I'm grateful to know that you can.” I tightened my arm to hug her closer before going on. “But if it had been some other girl he tried to take advantage of, things might have gone very differently.”

“I ... know.” I hated to hear my normally buoyant girl sound so subdued, so uncertain as her eyes met mine. “What will you do?”

“No more than I must.” No matter how tempted I might be to geld the bastard. “I will make sure that he knows that I'm well aware of what happened, and if I catch the slightest hint of him either 'getting grabby' with another girl or spreading any kind of nastiness about you, he'll suffer far more than a knee to his nethers.” After the talking-to Rory and Tadhg gave him, it should suffice.

Cait nodded, still looking dejected. I gave her another squeeze. “We could easily do worse ... like giving your mother all the details when she returns and letting her deal with Peadar. That would sort him!”

Her head dipped forward again, but this time I saw her stifling a smirk. Encouraged, I chuckled as I stood and offered a hand to help her up. “So how high a note was he singing after you gave him his comeuppance?”

“I couldn't really say.” After regaining her feet, Cait tossed her hair back out of her face. “I left the tack room while he was still curled on the floor, gasping for breath.”

“That's my lass. Never mess about with a MacEibhir woman.” I returned my arm to her shoulders as we started back toward the house. “Reassure your father, a stor, and tell me that any other man who lays a finger on you will suffer the same fate.”

“Da.”

a stor = my treasure
a realta = my star

Caitlín, Rory and Tadhg can be found at a_chaitlin, fey_fire and gifted_hands, respectively.

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 1549

Munday - Character Sexuality and Gender Questions

2009-01-29T00:19:35Z

Today's prompt is a survey about gender roles and character sexuality. Answer as many or as few of the questions as you like.

FYI, my answers apply to the following characters:

admiral_adama - Bill Adama (BSG 03)
kia_holtz - Kia Holtz (BSG 03 OC, also working on strictly OC version)
sonofgranite - Ruairí MacEibhir (The Grey Horse)
thehorseman - Anraí MacEibhir (The Grey Horse, mostly OC)
fey_fire - Rory Stone/Rory MacEibhir (The Grey Horse, mostly OC)
gifted_hands - Tadhg MacEibhir (The Grey Horse, mostly OC)
a_chaitlin - Caitlín MacEibhir (The Grey Horse OC)
breaker_street - a collective journal for the members of Rory Stone's band, Breaker Street. Of course all five of them are now demanding individual LJ's ... *headdesk*
di_monty_pippin - Monty Pippin (Keen Eddie)
c_for_caroline - Caroline Todd (Green Wing, not too active at present)

1. What gender of character do you play more of, male or female? Why?

My present ratio, if I take in everyone even remotely current, is 5 females to 9 males. This reflects circumstance more than inclination; when I started playing my characters from The Grey Horse, canon handed me four men right there. I gave Ruairí a daughter because I felt he needed one. Overall I'd say I'm as likely to write or RP women as men.

2. Is this different or the same as your own gender?

2/3 different. Woman is me.

3. Do you find that your gender makes it easier or more challenging to play your characters?

Writing men poses certain challenges, but really they're no different from writing any character with a background and point of view different than my own. Of course I've never had direct experience of possessing male anatomy and hormones, not to mention all the societal baggage that goes with them, but I learn what I can by observation and asking questions. When it comes to writing women, I have to keep in mind that my experience =/= all of female experience, so there are challenges there too.

4. What sexuality / gender identity do your characters have?

My characters so far range from straight to bisexual; feel free to check out my Kinsey Meme post for details on given characters. As for gender, I've written men who are very strongly masculine and men with some decidedly feminine tendencies. I've written tomboys, strong earthy women, outrageously feminine girly-girls and women who can blend characteristics from all of the above.

5. How does your character's sexuality and gender identity define / affect their personality?

As in real life, sex colors many aspects of my characters' personalities and interactions with other characters, but it isn't always the driving focus. It certainly can cause personality-shaping conflicts.

For example, Ruairí's children (Anraí, Rory, Tadhg and Cait) get to deal with all the fun contradictions between their púca heritage and being baptized and raised Irish Catholic. Rory had to deal with a storm of family issues related to his bisexuality, particularly with his mother, and Cait has also felt the stress and pain of having to be closeted in her homeland. Ruairí of course had fifteen centuries to settle into his sexuality before becoming a Christian, but even he is not entirely without issues.

I'd say that out of all my characters, Monty Pippin comes the closest to being defined by his sexuality, simply because the man is more than a little sex-obsessed. He hits on his male partner, skirt-chases with considerable skill and persistence and pretends to be married to his friend and flat-mate Audry so that they can attend swingers' parties together. And that's just the canon.

6. Do you tend to predominantly play characters of a certain sexuality? If so, why?

See #4. I have been gradually edging my way around to writing a gay muse. Fear of my own (hopefully lessening) ignorance of LGBT issues has stopped me so far, but I'm working on fixing that.

7. To what extent to you write / play your character's sexual or romantic life?

Again, it varies. I've written and/or roleplayed romance for just about all of them and sex for most of them. And yes, that does include the fiftysomething Kia Holtz and sixtysomething Bill Adama. ;) As far as the sex is concerned, sometimes I'll do the fade-to-black, sometimes I'll keep things R-rated, and often things get *cough* more detailed. In RP, I generally have no problems adjusting to other people's comfort levels as far as parts-naming and such.

8. How has the character's romantic life affected his character development?

Oh, man. Rather than inundate you with paragraphs for each character, I'll give a few examples. Feel free to comment with questions on anyone I don't mention. ^_^

Rory: Um. He's a bit of a mess right now, is Rory. Though more than a century old and very mature in some ways, he is also a pretty, pretty man who has charmed his way through much of life and only invested his deeper emotions a few times in his romantic past. The most recent of those with Pippa Kerr (sand_andwater) has smacked solidly into a brick wall, leaving her running off to Venice and him in an effed-up ball of what the hell do I do now. He's trying to put on a brave front as his band's first CD gets released and first tour approaches, but Pippa's rejection has cut deep. That pain is in the process of combining with Rory's craving for affection and adulation, the rock-and-roll lifestyle he's entering, a few other messy Pippa-related issues and certain aspects of his fey abilities to create ... an even bigger mess. Ish.

Cait: Okay, yes, I am currently writing a piece that fleshes out a couple of very important parts of Cait's romantic past and gives some idea how they affect her present-day self. Another WIP shows how Cait's fey nature impacts her sexuality. Feel free to administer virtual floggings until I actually finish the things.

Monty: Monty has a sex life really. He's not out to hurt anyone and doesn't lie about his intentions, but romance for canon!Monty is part of The Game, the personae he takes on to charm whomever has excited his interest. Trying to figure out how his sex life and personality affect each other devolves into a chicken-and-egg question: did he learn to be such a consummate roleplayer in order to entice prospective partners, or was the roleplaying already there and he just adapted it for sex? Hard to say. What can be said is that the man has issues to work through before he can have a real relationship, starting with actually admitting to himself that he kinda wants one. He's a case.

Sascha: breaker_street's youngest member started life as an NPC, as did her band-mates. Her development as a character in her own right has happened concurrently with her striking up a snugglebuddies-with-benefits relationship with Peter Webster (half_whole_pw). Peter is gay, and neither one of them has any thought that things between them will "go anywhere" in the classic sense, but it has been fascinating to watch aspects of her freewheeling, fun-loving personality come out in this context. I was eventually struck with the realization that she is in fact the daughter of my Earth version of Kia Holtz, and her family has been developing from there.

9. Do you set 'ships' or plan for your characters to be together with other characters, or do you allow their relationships to develop organically? Why?

I far, far prefer the organic route of seeing what, if anything, develops from the normal interactions of two characters. I varied from that habit when I paired up Rory with Pippa, but even that grew out of the comfortable RP relationship I have with Pippa's mun. When Anraí went up to Montana to help Laine with her tempermental gelding, neither mun had a clue that they would wind up married with a baby on the way. Sometimes the characters just insist.

With canon characters I usually lean toward canon 'ships, but every so often the muse will surprise you. In addition to canon!Monty Pippin, I play an AU version who wound up married with an infant son. I proposed the pairing to Lo Ortega's writer in a cracky "this will never actually happen" type of meme, but the more we both looked at the two of them, the more we thought OMFG THEY ACTUALLY WORK. O_o Shocked the heck out of both of us, not to mention Monty and Lo.

10. Do you change the gender identities / preferred sexualities of canon characters? Why / why not?

Technically I suppose I have changed Ruairí's canon sexuality. Certainly The Grey Horse doesn't bring up the possibility of him being bisexual, but given his age and otherspecies nature, I didn't feel it was too much of a stretch that he might have same-sex experiences in his background. I've kept my other canon characters pretty close to the source material as far as their sexuality is concerned, though I have had some meta-RP fun with Bill and another male character. I've never changed gender on any of them, just never had any interest in doing so. I'd rather create a character of a particular sex than flipflop an existing character.

I am definitely not among those who consider "changing" the sexuality of a canon character to be automatically OOC. Most canon characters simply do not come out and define their preferences in a way that's set in stone. Heck, there are plenty of characters out there whose canon doesn't directly address their sexuality, and insisting that such a character must be straight because the book/movie/TV show didn't say otherwise doesn't sit well with me. Also one homosexual encounter doesn't turn a straight character gay any more than one heterosexual experience makes a gay character straight (Right Peter? ;). We're dealing with a spectrum, not absolutes. As zippyknowsbest's writer pointed out, the psychology of how the character is portrayed far outweighs the actual plumbing in the sex act.

If anyone wants specifics on any particular character, feel free to comment on either the charloft or sonofgranite posts. ^_^

The Five Question Meme (see? I didn't forget. ;)

2009-01-11T19:23:02Z

THE RULES:
1. Leave me a comment saying anything random, like your favorite lyric to your current favorite song. Or your favorite kind of sandwich. Something random. Whatever you like.
2. I'll respond by asking you five personal questions about your character/muse so I can get to know you better.
3. Update your LJ with the completely honest answers to the questions.
4. Include this explanation and offer to ask someone else in the post.
5. When others comment asking to be asked, you will ask them five questions.

Five from Abby:

1. Are you crazy? What is someone like you doing with me?

Loving you, actually. Abby, you're a smart, tough, caring, beautiful woman with a mind of your own. Who is this "someone like me" that you think would be crazy to be with you?

Not that I'm 100% sane, of course ...

2. Why Robin?

... it seemed like a good idea at the time?

No, seriously, Robin and I have shared a large chunk of history, some tough times and a common situation. We usually understand each other, even when we most infuriate each other.

3. How did you manage to make a marriage work as long as you did?

There were times we almost didn't. At the end of the day, we had to have a depth of trust in and respect for each other, an understanding that we loved each other and were on each other's side, however we might have disagreed over a given issue.

4. Is there anything that scares you?

The thought of something happening to you or my children. For myself ... I've endured pain, privation, imprisonment and the loss of dignity that comes with them. No doubt there are still things in thes world that can put personal fear into me, but I haven't met any in some time.

5. Red or white?

As a color I prefer red. Are you asking about something else?

(TM) 262. Fictional, but hopefully effective (RP for abbytude)

2009-01-11T06:46:04Z

What fictional character would you like to be?

The question would normally have seemed nonsensical to Ruairí. After all, most people considered the púca himself, or at least his kind, to be fictional. But tonight he had an answer. Tonight he was Don Juan de Marco ... the sensitive and passionate lover from the Depp movie, not the rake and cad from the operas. At least he was trying for that particular archetype.

Abby had only been able to arrange a half-day off on her birthday, but she had tomorrow off as well. Not that she'd given any hint of what she might want as a present; in fact she'd been close-mouthed on the entire subject. Ruairí decided that the best gift he could give her was an evening of tender loving care followed by that most precious of commodities for an aspiring resident: a morning to lie around in bed.

To this end, there were candles and flowers on the tables and a meal-- prepared by Cait, not him –keeping warm in the oven or chilling in the refrigerator as the courses required. Cushions and soft throws formed a comfortable nest in the living room, perfect for curling up together and watching a romantic movie (five of which had been rented, including the aforementioned Depp movie) or stretching out and receiving a massage from one's very attentive lover. An array of bath salts, oils and bubbles waited by the sinfully large tub in Cait's bathroom, theirs for the evening like the rest of the apartment.

And that array didn't even touch on the assortment of possibilities waiting in the bedroom.

Ruairí sighed as he dropped onto the couch, facing the entryway. Preparations completed, the only thing lacking was the birthday girl.

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 304

Snagged from Liz-mun ... mwah

2009-01-03T17:44:59Z

THE RP SEXUALITY MEME

1) List your main pups. Or all of your pups. And potential pups. Whatever, have fun.

2) Take a look at the Kinsey scale.

3) List and explain an area on the scale for that given character, giving specific examples if you'd like, or multiple numbers based on your rationalizations.

4) Know your pup just a little better, or help others get to know him/her.

Caitlin (a_chaitlin): 3.5 in attraction, slightly higher in overall experience. Cait was fortunate to have bigger brother Rory paving the way in her family where bisexuality was concerned. Of course growing up in Catholic Ireland meant she was always careful to keep her degree of interest in women a well-guarded secret, and she's still not likely to make much noise on the subject. As much as she likes men, she's dealt with several whose main interest in her lay in the challenge, the desire to tame her very independent nature. She reacts to this about as well as you might expect and finds women a bit more sympathetic as a result. This may explain why the men she's attracted to these days usually have something of the feminine about them. (O HAI THAR ROBIN.)

Bill (admiral_adama): 0 in experience, very close to that in attraction. Canon William Adama is as close to 0 as makes no never-mind. He might possibly have been attracted to another man at one point or another in his life, but he would consider that to be absolutely no one's business but his own. These days he's exclusively Laura-sexual anyway.

Caroline (c_for_caroline): About 0.5 in experience, ??? in attraction. Caroline Todd has only ever had sex with men and would no doubt identify as heterosexual. Given the number of times she kissed or was kissed by women in canon, however, one has to wonder if Sue White wasn't on to something ...

Monty (di_monty_pippin): 2 in both experience and attraction. Oh geez, Monty. Try imagining Kinsey's face were he confronted with a journal of DI Pippin's sexual exploits. Go on, I dare you. Monty absolutely adores women; they're soft and sweet and curvy and smell amazing. He also adores variety, and has no qualms whatsoever about indulging a craving for something a little rougher and fiercer. And as he would put it, "Boarding school. You know."

Rory (fey_fire): 3 in both experience and attraction. Bisexual serial monogamy interspersed with occasional more casual lovers probably best describes the middle MacEibhir boy's sex life in the past decade or so. Before that he was experimental as all get out and an outrageous flirt, though he did try to make sure that not too much got back to his mother. (He wasn't at all apologetic if something did, though.) Certain parts of his past attitudes may see a resurgence now that the woman he loves has left him ... especially given the environment he's entering.

Tadhg (gifted_hands): 0 in experience, probably 1 to 1.5 in attraction. Tadhg can and does appreciate the aesthetics of both genders, and he's certainly not the type to completely rule out sex with another man. Still, he's only ever had the sexings with women. If you ask him why, he will probably go into a lengthy dissertation on the compelling nature and erotic attractions of the particular energy patterns permeating a body designed to give birth to new life. You are to be forgiven any glazed eyes or WTF expressions if this happens.

Kia (kia_holtz): Roughly 1.5 in both experience and attraction. Kia came of age smack in the middle of women's liberation and the sexual revolution. She has fought (and likely will continue to fight) many a battle over people's rights to be who they are in all ways, and has no issues dealing with homosexual impulses in others or in herself. That said, her primary attraction has always been to men. (The above details come from the Earth-based, modern-day version of Kia I'm working up. My original BSG 03 Kia has the same number, but a different background.)

Ruairi (sonofgranite): 2.5 in overall experience and attraction, currently 0 in a monogamous relationship. Well. Let's just say that 1600+ years gives one considerable time for all sorts of experience, and the fey have rarely been inclined to limit themselves where their pleasures are concerned. OTOH, his parents' centuries-long and very stable marriage (rare for their kind) has made a deep impression on him, leading him to want that kind of connection for himself. Thus he sought out and married Maire, and thus he quite happily settled into monogamy with Abby.

Anrai (thehorseman): 0 in experience, maaaaybe 0.5 in attraction. Unlike your average Catholic, Anrai is puca and does not consider homosexuality a sin (which is a very good thing considering the makeup of his family). He is also his mother's son, however, and has never shown any interest in considering such possibilities for himself. Of course he's now half of a solidly committed marriage, so such possibilities are even further off the table.

OOC: Tammy, oh Tammy ...

2008-12-31T20:50:53Z

Tis the season for thetammyawards once again, and there are some púca nominations on the ballot. Ruairí is quite amused to find himself up for Mature Hottie and Sex God, and very happy to hit the voting lists for Straight Couple of the Year (with abbytude) and Outstanding Family Relationship (with all four of the kids, thehorseman, fey_fire, gifted_hands and a_chaitlin). Feel free to check out his thank-you post, though Anraí and Rory would prefer that you ignore the Dream Cast Orgy category. Ruairí, Rory and Cait also wound up with a pile of honorable mentions for everything from Ass of Doom, Best Package and Ulitmate Object of Desire to Best Eyes, Smile and Mane. (Their mun is deeply touched by both the nomination for Action Writer of DOOM! and the honorable mention for Outstanding Roleplayer of Love, Sex and Ships.)

But Tammy Season is also Smiting Season, with bizarre things happening as a result. Hermes goaded Emma Frost into amusing herself by asking that Ruairí be turned into a mule for 24 hours. Abby, as you might imagine, did not take kindly to her part-time equine boyfriend being stuck in this shape, so she got a little payback by having Emma turned into ... well, a bitch. *cough* No connection to Abby's retaliation has been proven, but a suspiciously short time afterward, Cordelia Chase asked the Smiting Service to make Abby's next 24 hours a little more musical.

After the initial shock wore off, Ruairí has become quite accepting of the situation. After all, he's used to the feel of four legs, Abby and Cait have been very good about keeping him supplied with oatmeal and hay, and he can always bray to drown out Abby's singing. And everyone will be back to normal in time for the midnight kiss to ring in the New Year, though Abby will no doubt insist that Ruairí shower off the mule smell first.

Happy New Year to you all, and the púca clan and their mun wish you the very best in 2009. ^_^

Seen in several muse journals ...

2008-12-23T04:15:54Z

If you could force me to write anything, what would it be?

(TM) 259. Understanding

2008-12-17T21:05:09Z

Write a prompt that begins with the words: "I don't understand"...

“I don't understand, Da.”

Ruairí had traced his middle son and namesake to an isolated crag overlooking the Cashla River. No more than twenty minutes away from the house under Knockduff for a horse at full gallop- and Rory had been at full gallop when he left –but not someplace his non-púca mother could readily follow, even were she inclined.

No doubt the lad wished he could as easily outrun the harsh words he and Máire had thrown at each other.

While his father sat down beside him, Rory continued. “I don't understand how Mam can hate me so much over this. Over being ... liking men as well as women.” Rory's eyes looked as miserable as they could without tears, a misery echoed in the rest of his gracefully fey features.

Ruairí ran a gentle hand over the dark silk of his son's hair before letting it come to rest on his shoulder. “Your mother doesn't hate you, a bhúachaill. She's confused and angry, certainly. But hate ... no."

“Feels like she does.” Rory's voice was thick. Were he fully human, he'd sound like he were crying. “The things she called me ... the things she called you. As if she blames you for what I am.”

The hand on Rory's shoulder tightened a fraction. “I rather think she does. At least in part.”

“Why?!” Quick ire lit the sixteen-year-old's eyes. “Because you're púca? She's half-fey herself; she can't know--”

Ruairí cut through what was shaping into another tirade with a low, thrumming noise deep in his chest. “Not because I'm púca, son of mine. I have been and will remain faithful to my wedding vows, but you and I have more in common than our fey blood.”

Rory's eyes widened as his father's meaning sank in, his lips rounded in a soundless Oh. After a long, uncertain pause, he blurted, “You told her that?”

Settling an arm around his tall son's shoulders, Ruairí sighed, long and low. “I did not. Perhaps I should have, but when we met I didn't know enough about Christianity or the Bible to even realize it could be an issue.” He gave Rory a sidelong glance and a wry smile. “But your mother is a sharp woman, and she's had nearly thirty years of marriage to ... pick up on things. Perhaps she thought this an issue better left in my past, but it's obviously not to be left in yours.”

“The Bible. Christianity.” Rory hissed his frustration. “Did the Lord not say we're to love each other as he loves us? Where is the Christian love in calling someone of your own blood an abomination, in telling them they're doomed to perdition because of one verse in Leviticus?” His hands gripped his knees with white-knuckle force. “It makes no sense, Da!”

“Nor to me either.” Ruairí shifted to once more lightly ruffle the boy's hair. “But whatever religion has to say, it can't erase one fact. She's still your mother, and you're still just as much her son as you were before she found out. She'll remember that, given time.”

Rory looked deeply unconvinced as he let his head droop forward onto his folded arms. From that position he muttered, apparently to his knees, “And if Tadhg keeps apologizing fifty times a day, I may have to hit him. I know he didn't mean to bollix things up by letting the news slip, but--”

“No, he didn't. Give your little brother some time as well, lad.” Leaning back against the sun-warmed rock, Ruairí considered the turmoil his youngest had touched off in the name of high-spirited fun, assuming their parents already knew ...

“... saw him kissing someone, some fey out of the borderlands!”

“Tadhg ...” Rory's tone carried an unmistakable note of warning.

“Enough with teasing your brother, laddie-buck.”

“Why, Da? You know he'll be quick enough to tease me when I'm old enough to have a sweetheart. Just because he's got a boyfriend now--”

“TADHG!!!” Rory's shout came too little, too late. Máire's head jerked up, her gaze fixing on her son over the supper table as her fork clattered onto her plate. White-faced with shock, she stared at the boy for long seconds before turning a look on her husband that he could only call accusing.

Complete silence and stillness reigned over the table until Rory broke it, his voice now small and hesitant. “Mam?”

Máire shoved away from the table violently, her chair tipping over backward as she all but ran from the room ...

As was to be expected from his dark rose, her shock and silence hadn't lasted long. She'd swung from there into desperate pleading, bitter recriminations and outright fury.

Willful Rory was not about to bend before any of his mother's reactions, matching her anger with a temper hotter than he'd ever seen in the boy. Young Tadhg remained heartsick over the rift he'd triggered, but not caused. Anraí just wanted to fix everything, though he had no idea how to do so.

Truth be told, neither had Ruairí.

He thought he'd taken care of all issues with Máire's Christianity and his own lack thereof with his baptism, but there had been no way for either of them to realize the kind of problems that might come up to bite them years down the line. In memory he could still hear her snapping at him, ”I'll hear no fairy nonsense against my revealed religion, thank you!”

Ruairí's jaw firmed as he watched his son, still curled into a ball of despondency. She would hear him on this. She had to.

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 976

(TM) 255. Scary

2008-12-15T07:14:13Z

BOO! How would you go about scaring someone?

Set during and after this RP.

He hadn't intended to frighten her, truly he hadn't.

You do that, Pony Boy.

She asked (sarcastically) for a demonstration, so he gave her one. He transformed in front of her from man to stallion.

What the ruddy hell was he thinking?!

Had he gone and forgotten that mortal fear of that-which-was-different, the fear that had murdered and burned his mother all those centuries ago? What had possessed him not only to tell Dr. Abby Lockhart what he was, but to answer the skepticism in her expression by proving it?

Of course he immediately started kicking himself the moment she screamed.

Easy, lass, easy! I'll not harm a hair on your head, so there's no need to carry on so.

And the self-recriminations continued even after he reassured her, helped her calm down enough to look at him again. Cheerful and charming as he tried to be, wariness diluted the interest in her dark eyes as she took his business card.

In the days following the incident, he soon convinced himself that she'd tossed his card and was busy pretending the whole thing had never happened. And yet ... he'd always had an instinct for people, a sense of who should and shouldn't know what he really was. That instinct hadn't failed him for centuries; it was hard to accept that it had failed him now.

He got tired of hiding at times, gods knew. It rankled. What good had all that careful concealment done Máire, after all?

But no amount of his own frustration meant that the poor woman deserved to be scared half out of her wits.

So that was that and nothing he could do about it – until one Illinois afternoon when he felt his cell buzzing.

"Ruairí MacEibhir here. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"Um...ah, it's Abby. Lockhart."

True, she did sound as if she was wondering what she was doing calling him ... but he'd take a second chance however it came.

Muse: Ruairí MacEibhir
Fandom: The Grey Horse
Word count: 315 (not including quotes)

blinkblink ... O.O

2008-12-09T21:32:32Z

OOC: Somebody put all four of the púcaboiz up, so I guess I'd best link to it ...

The I'D HIT IT Meme

No, it wasn't me, nor do I know whom it was. Whee!

Pardon my sheepishness ...

2008-11-17T02:52:02Z