it was in times like these that liam felt completely out of his depths. a fish out of water , wanting nothing more than to dive into the deep. even though ronan joked around , calling liam and cal his dad-uncles , but liam wasn't that much older than ro was. there were a handful of years in between them but eons of differences in how their pieces fit into their family dynamic. sure , ro fit into their family like he'd always been there , but liam felt panicked thinking of the amount of trust ronan put in him. he looked to liam as if his opinion not only mattered, but was important. it was hard to wrap his head around. the past few years had been a tricky road of learning how to value himself again , with his confidence still feeling painfully low most days. calahan had helped more than he would ever know and kanda's blatant disinterest made him feel less self-conscious. ronan , in all his childlike enthusiasm , was a new development that liam wasn't quite sure how to navigate. it wasn't thought liam dared vocalise , but he also felt tentatively excited at the relationship they had developed. liam was terrified to fuck it up.
"you did help ," liam promised , stroking ronan's back gently as his sobs shook them both. the sadness in ro's voice made his throat close up uncomfortably and he blinked away the tears threatening to cloud even more of his vision. "the trip was important , yes , but don't you think that cal and i think you and kanda are even more so ? we'd not survive without you." the thought sat heavy in his chest , ready to choke him with grief he hadn't yet experienced. "you let no one down , ro. you did everything right , okay ? i know cal feels the same."
Ronan didn’t move. Not for a while. He simply stood there, wrapped in Liam’s embrace, sinking into the quiet solace of his arms. It was a much-needed assurance, knowing that he was here, that he was safe, that Liam nor Calahan blamed him for what had happened. Even through the choked sobs and uneven breaths, the nephilim could breathe a little easier, knowing this.
He still wasn’t entirely convinced that anything he had done had made much of a difference, where Kanda was concerned. He wasn’t sure he ever would. But he wasn’t about to argue the point now. Once they were well, she would surely mention it; how he had fallen asleep at their side the night before, how he had failed to notice her slipping away in the early hours of the morning, only managing to find them in the woods after it was too late. The guilt still sat heavy in his chest, but for now, for the sake of his sanity, he needed to set it aside. He needed rest, preferably in the vicinity of those who made him feel safe, secure, and whole.
“I’m tired,” Ronan finally spoke, as if the weariness his body carried hadn’t been fully indicative of the obvious. In truth, he felt so much more than that, but he lacked the words to describe the sensation fully. “Can you stay with me? Please?” He hesitated briefly, his voice even softer now, fingers curled around the fabric of Liam’s shirt. “Just for a little while? If you don’t have anywhere else to be? I don’t want to be alone here. I can't. Not after...”
“you.” calahan stayed rooted to the spot for a moment. he stared at the familiar face, at those high cheekbones and the soft palette of blondes and blues. just like lorcan. almost exactly like lorcan. over the years, the memories had faded and his grip on his brothers had, too. but the boy in front of him looked exactly like the old photographs he bad brought to every new house, every new country, that stayed tucked away in the photo album for special occasions. “ronan.” the name sat on his tongue for a moment. an irish lilt. he hadn’t heard a voice like that since …
“ronan … macarthy.” in that moment, he felt as though he was spinning. calahan rested one hand against the crooked brickwork, the other finding his heart — the one that had stopped beating long before ronan was born. he had convinced himself that he was the last of the line, one singular withered arm in the family tree, a cockroach that was yet to meet its end. and now lorcan’s face was staring back at him, without those familiar round clear-rimmed glasses or the hair perfectly slicked back, but the exact fact he had prayed for just a minute more with. just one moment to say a real goodbye.
maybe his prayers had been answered after all. maybe there was a god up there. he walked towards the stranger, narrowing his eyes, studying the features that he had only known in sepia tones. “ronan macarthy.” a name he rarely heard, only read on gravestones or old scripture. “do you know … do you know a lorcan mccarthy? he is — he was my brother. he was my brother a long, long time ago and … and you.” his golden eyes studied the face. calahan fought the urge to reach out and touch him, to run a hand over the contours of bone and skin. his gaze almost shimmered in the light. “i think i know you.”
A part of Ronan wanted to look away, to dismiss this moment as nothing more than circumstantial coincidence, and find a resting place for the night. But the weight of the man’s gaze kept him firmly rooted where he stood. An expression of pleading desperation, of yearning for recognition and for understanding. It was a sentiment Ronan knew entirely too well.
With unsteady hands, Ronan moved to slip the bag from his shoulder, fingers fumbling hastily through its contents until they closed around the edges of a photograph. He pulled it free, lingering on the familiar image for a moment, gaze softening with longing reverence as he looked upon the four faces before passing it over to the other. His eyes flickered to the inscription scrawled on the back, one he looked upon countless times before now. Starting with ‘Lorcan’ on the left and ending with ‘Calahan’ on the right, with two others wedged between them, arms wrapped around one another in a brotherly embrace. Even with the curled edges and faded ink, the resemblance between the man in the photograph and the one standing before him was uncanny, and hauntingly so.
“My granda, and my great-uncles…” Ronan had started, the words quickly faltering once they left his lips, the realization of what was happening quickly starting to take root. This shouldn’t be possible. It couldn’t be possible. But the more he considered it, the prospect that he might not be quite so alone in the world, after years of wayward searching to find what could very well be his last surviving relative, he found he didn’t quite care.
“I don’t understand how this...” He croaked, swallowing hard as a lump quickly rose to his throat, limbs growing heavy before the nephilim all but collapsed upon a nearby bench. “It is… it is you? In this photo? It's really you? And you're my.. my f-family?"
THE CLUB WAS PACKED, however, regina expected this. she too is prone to vices -- liqour, sex, expensive gifts for herself, but she is painfully aware of the lengths that people will go to in order to escape the crumbling world around them. and while the most intelligent that walk amongst them know that this escapism is merely a temporary fix -- a cheap band-aid over a bleeding gash, it's clear that most of the patrons she's observed tonight are far from street smart. she's made her rounds plenty of times by now -- therefore, she rewards herself with a seat at her favorite booth, a throne she had shared many a time with kiyan. blood red nails snake around her glass, her beverage choice a welcome solace as she settles into the familiar velvet of the couch. that is, until she realizes she's being approached. " don't tell me something's broken. i will rip someone's throat out with my teeth. " the vampire mutters. those who know her best were well aware that this was far from a simple joke -- but a genuine promise. " come, sit. if you stand there any longer you might just get trampled. "
Ronan was decidedly not a club-goer. Far from it, in fact. And if he was going to venture into Portum’s nightlife, The Old Haunt would have been the much-preferred option, mostly on account of the company to be found there, though his presence at Envy had been for a much similar reason. He couldn’t pass up the prospect of meeting up with Mei, even if for a few moments, even if that had meant departing from the familiar comforts of the Macarthy home.
Overpriced drink in hand, Ronan weaved through the crowd, each step met with an accidental shove or stumble amid a sea of enthusiastic albeit oblivious and spatially unaware patrons. It wasn’t long before a pair of wildly flailing arms cut across his path, steering him off balance as the equally exuberant movements of another sent him sprawling onto the floor. By the time he regained his footing, the glasses were empty, and his shirt was thoroughly drenched in amber liquid.
Happening upon the nearest booth, Ronan steadied himself before casting a glance at its occupant, looking upon the other with tentative curiosity. “Ach, only my pride. And my shirt, it would appear.” Offering a shrug before casting a rueful gaze downwards, silently hoping Calahan wouldn’t be too upset over the ruined garment he had borrowed from his uncle's press. “Though I reckon your suspicions are well-founded. You sure I’m not intruding on ye?”
“i can imagine.” a strangeness that come over portum like a sickness, like a plague. there had only been one death, but it had shaken the very foundations of the town to the point where it seemed impossible to claw back the sanctuary it had once been. mei wasn’t scared, but she could feel the heaviness in the air — and it wasn’t just the fog. she couldn’t imagine how it felt for anyone directly impacted, for anyone that knew a vampire in the same close regard as ronan knew calahan. “but you’re doing okay, right? you haven’t … you’re all okay physically?” she had half a mind to try and protection spell on the household, although that wasn’t her specialty. mei was better at the darker stuff. ronan brought a strange, unfamiliar lightness to her chest that the witch wasn’t sure she had ever felt before.
as she stepped into the home, stripped her coat and handed it to the nephilim, she gazed up in awe at the structure. it was nothing short of a mansion, decorated as though they had walked straight into a victorian novel ; striped dark wallpaper and old antique frames, with the odd modern touch that she attributed to liam and ronan. an old chestnut bureau with a bowl of keys, all complete with a bright keychain. a coat stand that looked fitting for sherlock holmes’ hallway with polyester jackets and scarves she recognised from the high street. the witch couldn’t help but laugh. the mccarthy home was just as eclectic as the inhabitants. “it’s huge in here,” mei commented, offering a warm smile to her gracious host, “it’s nice to see you. it felt weird being served by somebody else. you definitely have a way of convincing people to buy bread rolls.”
what was happening to her? maybe it was a weird side - effect of the grief that had permeated portum like a bad smell. she felt drawn to the man, and despite countless pep talks in the mirror telling her that she was better than the tall, gangly irishman, she still felt as though she needed to be right there. in that house. at that time. mei’s dark eyes warmed as she focused on ronan, at his attempts to pronounce the game that should have been a household name. “it’s called scrabble,” she interjected, “you get given a selection of letters and you need to make words out of them. each letter scores you a different amount of points. the common letters, like E and A, are low - scorers, and the rarer letters, like Q and Z, get you the big scorers. we can take it slow if you’re not sure.” at the very least, it would certainly be a distraction.
In the weeks that followed the start of the year, Ronan had mostly been a shell of himself; catatonic and withdrawn, a far cry from the warm and inviting demeanor that the nephilim was otherwise known for. Even now, the prospect of having nearly lost all who were dear to him, and knowing that there were those in Portum who actually had, the thought would continue consume him if he would let it. So he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not now, and certainly not with her. Instead, he offered a curt nod, followed by a genuine albeit goofy-looking grin, the first he had managed in weeks — a response that could have only been illicited by Mei’s presence, and hers alone. “Uncle Cal and Liam came back home, and Kanda is healing and… we’re okay. Really. We’ll all be okay.” It was an answer for her, as much as it was an assurance to himself.
Placing her coat upon the rack, Ronan watched with unmoving reverence as she absorbed every detail of the sprawling interior. Her response had closely mirrored his own reaction upon arriving to Portum all those months ago, upon realizing that he had truly found his home — not necessarily in the space itself, but among those who dwelled within the sprawling estate. He nodded with intent interest as she spoke, absorbing her every word as if she were explaining something far more profound and sacred than instructions for a simple boardgame. Spoken from her lips, it might as well have been, as far as the nephilim was concerned.
“So, you take those wee letters and make words… but some are worth more than others? How much more? Who decides this? And what happens to the — ” Ronan inquired with furrowed brows, cutting himself off as he was struck with an equally abrupt thought. “Ach! Wait! Let me show you ‘round first!” Before he could stop himself, Ronan moved to close the space between them, his hand instinctively reaching for hers, his breath hitching once realizing his fingertips were now inches from her own. “Look, I know you said manners are overrated but…” Another pause as he shifted his gaze to meet her own, swallowing in preparation for the words he wanted to say, the words he needed to say. “I’m… erm, I am really glad you’re here. I missed you.”
nolan chuckles at the other's attempt to change the subject, not bothering to point out that the only form of assortment on the cupcakes were how roasted their marshmallow toppings were.
they sigh at the other's protest, detesting sleep but looking like he was one blink away from a hefty slumber. nolan is about to be real hypocritical. they just hope ronan is too sleepy to tell them to practice what they're about to preach. "look, ronan. i get you, i really do. i would turn the whole town upside-down if something happened to calahan" they said (and they nearly did), "but you’re gonna be no help if your eyelids are too heavy to be kept open."
at this point, nolan's hands are on his hips, eyes pointed and oozing concern towards the nephilim. "ronan, can i give you a hug?"
He really had tried. To be brave. To remain strong, particularly for those in his life who needed him to be. But the last few days had drained every ounce of his resolve, robbing him of any ability to remain steady or composed. Despite the constant reassurances that Calahan was safe and unharmed, that Kanda was steadily recovering at the hospital, the mere thought of the alternative continued to tug at him, forceful and relentless, leaving the nephilim shaken to his core.
Before Nolan could even finish the sentence, Ronan rushed towards him, an instinctive reaction to his overwhelming need to be held. To be comforted. To find solace in the arms of someone who truly understood. “I c-can’t lose him, can’t lose any of...” He couldn’t speak the words, he wouldn’t speak the words, burying his face into Nolan’s shoulder in an attempt to stifle his sobs. He clung tightly to the phoenix, hoping that his embrace could offer some semblance of the safety that had so quickly been ripped away from him. From all of them. “Nolan, I’m… I’m so scared. How can you even stand it?”
↳ who: open! (0/3)
↳ where: the forest and mountains
The rise of the sun marked the break of a new day, as much as it did the start of Sabine’s morning routine. Ever a creature of habit, she had taken to the forrest to commence the start of what she expected would a relatively uneventful day: a brisk run along the trails, followed by a coffee date with Juni, before eventually heading to the clinic for whatever activities the work day had in store. The morning had started like any other — that is, until she had encountered the likeness of another, practically barreling into them as she rounded the tree-covered clearing. It was a dual rarity for the gorgon, in that she didn’t typically encounter another supernatural at this hour, but also in the fact that she didn’t mind particularly mind the prospect of company. A lingering effect of the recently-concluded moon cycle, no doubt. “So... you come here often?” Sabine inquired, a pointed and playful gaze highlighting her features, one that quickly softened into a look of genuine curiosity. “No, really. I didn’t anyone else frequented the trails at this since, not after… well, you know.”
This was not something she did often, and certainly not for everyone who walked through the doors of Portum Veterinary. But Marisela was hardly someone who fell into the latter category, particularly not where Sabine was concerned. It was one of the decidedly advantageous parts of owning your own business, the ability to indulge in offering exceptions and discretions of your own choosing, such as offering pet drop-off after a routine check-up. This particular occasion was a mostly magnanimous gesture, though she hoped it would prove to be a mutually favorable one.
No sooner than Sabine had stepped through the doors of the apartment did Sombra make her demands abundantly clear, pawing and mewling with vocal insistence for release from the carrier. With a fond smile, she obliged the feline, fingers grazing the top of her head in a series of affectionate scratches before granting her freedom and striding towards Marisela. “Sombra and I had a wonderful time, didn’t we?” Sabine remarked, setting a small stack of papers on the table, watching with pronounced amusement as the other eagerly pounced towards the slivers of sunlight spilling through the nearby window.
“Though,” she added, turning towards the witch with an air of feigned and exaggerated concern, “there was one small matter of concern.” She paused briefly, just long enough for intrigue to settle before tilting her head with a teasing smirk. “Mar, when’s the last time you went on a date?”
Sabine had never been much of a homebody, not even in such a small and idyllic of a community as Portum. As much as it was a place she had come to consider as ‘home’ — as much as she could manage to regard any place as such — the gorgon often kept herself far too busy to indulge in the comforts of domesticity. But the events of the New Year’s holiday had left her shaken in a way that few things did. The apprehension was as widespread as it was palpable; an inescapable weight that continually tugged at the hearts and minds of Portum’s inhabitants. She had managed to keep her sense of unease relatively hidden, concealed under her usual veneer of effortless non-chalance, mostly for the benefit of the supernaturals who had taken extended refuge at the clinic. Yet, for all her efforts, Sabine knew she couldn’t maintain the facade forever, and she had grown eager to reclaim her sense of sanctuary, one that could only truly be found in the presence of her sister.
Having settled into her sister’s bed well before the other had arrived, Sabine had initially been startled by the sudden clatter of belonging, flinching at the sudden noise in the otherwise silent vicinity. Relief was soon to follow, though, upon the realization that the sound that signaled nothing more than Juni’s arrival. “I couldn’t sleep,” Sabine offered with an uncharacteristically tentative wave, once her sister emerged through the threshold. The explanation was one that needed no further elaboration, at least not where the pair of them had been concerned. “Can I stay here with you tonight?”
he was a strange one, and mei had already needed to spend ten minutes texting liam and talking him down about whatever he thought her and ronan were. he was just a boy — and a strange one at that. a nephilim with a funny accent that stared at her at the bakery, as though he was an old painting in a horror movie where the eyes tracked strangers around the room. that didn’t mean that she hadn’t picked up on the signs, the missed work days, the withdrawn nature that seemed so out of place. whatever had happened with the vampire’s death, mei knew that others were taking it harder than she was ; especially those with personal ties to the bloodsuckers. the first day she had turned up to the sweetest tooth and noticed his absence, mei brushed it off as an extra break following his embarrassing new year head - bump. after another day, then another, she decided to ask liam their address and turn up to the sprawling macarthy mansion unannounced.
she pressed the doorbell, but the moment the sound rang through the home mei second guessed herself and the tote bag full of snacks and pick - me - ups she had gathered. baked goods, travel chess, a pair of brightly colored socks — was it too much? would it only make things worse? it had been over two decades since she had lost her parents, and the witch barely remembered what grief felt like. she had almost decided to give up entirely and hurry away from the premises when the door opened and she saw that sleepy, flaxen face. “it’s me,” mei smiled and raised her bag, “i wondered where you were. you weren’t at work, and usually you stare at me like you’re trying to laser beam through to my organs. i thought i would stop by and see how you’re doing, bring you some things to help out. how's your uncle?” she was glad that she had clarified with liam the relation between ronan and calahan. she had thought they were brothers, then father and son, and everything in between. “you don’t have to worry about manners, ro. manners are overrated. but yes, i would like to come in. i have your ass to kick in travel scrabble.”
This had to be a dream. An incredibly vivid and lucid dream, though not entirely unlike the others that had featured Mei's likeness. Slowly rubbing at his eyes, as if clearing his vision might provide clarity to his groggy and disoriented state, or prove that the vision at the doorstep was nothing more than a mirage. Removing his hands from his eyes, Ronan was equally delighted and dumbstruck to find such had not been the case; her presence still lingered, as sharp and palpable as the winter breeze that swirled around them.
He tried to focus on her; all her, only her. As it always was, whenever and wherever Mei was concerned. He listened as intently as he could, though most of the words she spoke slipped past his comprehension, consumed by the sheer impossibility of the sight before him. The idea that she had not only noticed his days-long absence from work, but that it had somehow moved her enough to come to his doorstep? It was incomprehensible. It was inconceivable. Yet here she stood, as striking and disarming as ever, with the intention of keeping him company inside what had been otherwise been an empty household.
“Uncle Cal? He’s… well, we’re all a bit…” Ronan trailed off, features twisted into a perplexed expression, hands making a vague swirling motion in the air. He wasn’t sure he could find the right words to fully describe it; the lingering heaviness, the pervasive uncertainty, the profound and unsettling impact it had left on them all. Ronan didn’t care to dwell on it; not now, not here, not anymore. “Ach! Right, right, of course! Please, come in!” Ronan exclaimed, voice brimming with anticipation as he stepped forward to usher her across the threshold. He reached out with a gentle and tentative motion, indicating for both her coat and the tote bag slung across her shoulder, quickly appraising the contents of the latter. “I’m… I’m really happy to see you, Mei,” he confessed with a sheepish grin, the corners of his mouth tugging into an even wider smile as their eyes interlocked. “Even if my arse is about to get handed to me in… what was it? Scrapple? Scramble?”
liam had barely gotten out of the car before cal sped off , only one destination on his mind. normally liam would be jealous , irrationally so , at cal not wanting him to tag along. but this was different. this was kanda going through something traumatic and cal had somehow gotten it into his head that he was the one to blame. liam couldn't convince him otherwise , so kanda would have to do it , in her own way. hopefully they could get through to him , but cal was nothing if not stubborn.
the door to their house swung open and as liam put down his bag he could hear the rush of footsteps approach. no sooner than liam had registered that he had his arms full of ronan, whose sobs made the both of them shake.
"oh , you big baby ," liam cooed , heart in his chest going pitter – patter as he pulled ronan in to his arms. having ronan break down completely in front of him tugged uncomfortably on liam's heart strings and he instantly wished that cal was the one to have this conversation. he would be better at comforting ro even with his lack of words. liam would , no doubt , say the wrong thing and make the situation even worse. not to mention that he was a fucking wreck with the news that had been given to them while on vacation. "i'm so sorry , ro. you did so good , hmm ? you did good. she's safe now , and you did so well letting us know so that we could come home immediately." the younger man was a mess and his sobs only told liam how much he had held back the past couple of days. "you did good , honey. you did good !"
Time had stood still since the start of the year, even more so in the hours that followed Ronan’s return from the hospital. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t do anything except pace the halls with an increasingly frenzied pace, consumed by his concern for those he cherished most in the world. Liam’s return brought a profound sense of relief, the release of the suffocating weight of having lived his worst and most unthinkable fear, and the nephilim felt as if he could breathe. As if he could move. As if things would be okay. It was an assurance he had received nearly constantly, but as he was wrapped in Liam’s embrace, clinging to the other with a desperate and unyielding grip, it was the first time Ronan believed it could be so.
“I wasn’t… I c-couldn’t help…” The words were barely comprehensible, broken and fragmented as they tumbled from his lips, voice cracking as the image of finding Kanda in the forrest rushed back to him with brutal clarity. He clung even tighter to Liam in response, desperately trying to anchor himself in his presence, but there was no steadying him against the flurry of his emotions, his body falling limp in the arms of the other. “I know how much that trip meant to you, to both of you,” He managed to choke out before his words were swallowed by another series of stifled sobs. “I wanted you both to… I let you both down. I let her down.” His breath hitched with a broken whisper. “You trusted me here and I let you all down.”
( priscilla quintana . cis-woman . she/her ) — blasting nobody by mitski down main street we’ve spotted SABINE OTERO sporting their leather jacket, ripped bralette + medusa pendant. the two hundred and ninety three year old GORGON who’s been in town for sixteen years often can be seen hiking through the mountains, indulging in a glass of brandy, planning their next tattoo, or working as a OWNER at PORTUM VETERINARY. people say they display resilient and reclusive traits, but we rather trust their vibes: an empty nest & a broken wing, silver gloves hiding silver scars, the jagged edge of the cliff’s edge. also, we’ve heard they love GARDENING ! aren’t they fascinating ?
𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
full name: sabine euryale otero.
nicknames: tbd.
birthdate + birthplace: both are unknown.
age: 293 years old (appears 30)
gender: cis-woman.
pronouns: she/her.
orientation: bisexual | demiromantic
species: gorgon.
spoken languages: spanish, english, latin, irish, italian, french + a passing familiar with many others.
education: doctor of veterinary medicine degree | also holds advanced degrees in anthropology, florticulture + supernatural history.
occupation: owner at portum veterinary.
living situation: resides in a two-bedroom brownstone apartment above her office.
character inspo: briseis (the song of achilles), yennefer of vengerberg (the witcher), megara (hercules), zoya nazyalensky (the grishaverse).
𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.
hair color: chocolate brown.
hair style: styled in loose waves of varying length (medium to long).
eye color: emerald green.
height: 5’5” | 165 cm.
build: petite.
complexion: honey/golden, with warm undertones.
piercings: 4 total | 2 in each ear (lobe + helix).
tattoos: several; her most recent additions include a gorgon (left arm), cats (right ankle) + flowers/celestial symbols (outer thigh).
faceclaim: priscilla quintana.
𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲.
positive traits: creative, free-spirited, independent, perceptive, vivacious.
negative traits: cynical, escapist, fatalistic, non-committal, remorseful.
likes: animals, astrology, gardening, vintage clothing, women’s sports.
dislikes: bland food, horror films, seafood, styrofoam, using a smartphone.
fears: captivity, dark + enclosed spaces (claustrophobia), the prospect of anything bad happening to her sisters again.
regrets: feeling responsible for the conditions her sisters faced, and not being able to do more to save them.
goals: tbd.
hobbies: antiquing, cross-stitching, hiking, traveling, videogames.
mbti: enfj (the mentor).
enneagram: 5 (the investigator).
moral alignment: chaotic neutral.
love language: acts of service + quality time (giving) | quality time + words of affirmation (receiving)
temperament: sanguine.
enthusiasm be damned this boy is tired. "i'm barely halfway through the tray," nolan smiled, looking back at the marshmallow cupcakes in an attempt to humor the other's attempt to change the subject before circling back to the elephant in the room. "ro, how much sleep did you get last night?" said nolan, his voice and expression shifting into concern. "if you're tired you can probably ask eloise for a day off?"
"And what a tray it is! An assortment of delectable delights, the pinnacle of… ooh, is that ganache drizzle I see on top? Brilliant! ” Gesturing toward the tray with an exaggerated flourish, he tried to maintain his trademark enthusiasm, hoping it might quell Nolan’s concerns, or at least distract him from the point. Instead, it appeared Ronan’s efforts had the opposite effect; the sense in the other’s demeanor had made that fact entirely obvious.
“Sleep? Sleep?! At a time like this?! Oh, no no, I couldn’t possibly!” His body might have indicated otherwise, as Ronan leaned over the countertop to stave off his lingering lethargy, but his conscience simply would not allow it. Not when he promised Eloise and Nolan he would be at work today. Not after New Year’s, and certainly not after being unable to do a single thing to help Kanda and all she had endured. “Besides, you and these batches of cupcakes of yours need me. I’d much prefer to be here to help, to be… useful.”
↳ who: mei jiâng ( @silkeared )
↳ where: the macarthy household
Ronan still wasn’t feeling well, and he couldn't fathom why. It could have been any number of things: the aftermath of the New Year’s holiday, the head injury he sustained a few days earlier, or even one of the seasonal ailments that had been making its way through town. In his case, likely an ill-timed combination of the three. In the days that followed, he had been given a few days off from work — more of a command than a suggestion, where Eloise and Nolan had been concerned. Calahan and Liam had been equally insistent, making concerted efforts to make sure the youngest member of the Macarthy household prioritized his well-being, in the way that he often neglected in service to others. While immeasurably grateful for the gestures of concern from his loved ones, he was also growing increasingly stir-crazy by the minute.
Roused from his nap by a ring of the doorbell, Ronan wasn’t quite sure who would be at the other side of the door. It didn’t particularly matter, as far as the nephilim was concerned; at this point, he would gladly welcome any form of company, as he practically ran for the doorway. “Welcome to th—you! It’s… it’s you!” It was Mei. Mei! Mei was at his front door! He wasn’t sure how she had found the house or what it was that had brought her to his doorstep; whether it was a complete accident or an act of divine providence. “You’re here,” he repeated before rubbing at his eyes, as if needing to confirm this wasn’t simply another side effect of his concussion. Tilting his head slightly, as he took in the sight of her, still unsure what to make of it. Of her. “W-why are you here, exactly?” Confusion still evident on his features as he posed the question, a sentiment that was quickly replaced by regret of his hastily-made statement. “Not that I am not glad to see you! I mean, it’s… it’s you! It’s just… ach, where are my manners!” Somehow, he managed to stop himself there, taking a step backward as he gestured towards the threshold. “Would... would you like to come in?”
who: liam reed ( @scvntillas )
where: the macarthy household
The clock on the wall was broken. It had to be. Ronan was sure he had been home for hours, every creak of his footsteps against the floor a reminder of his growing unease. Yet, its slim and singular hand signaled that he had only been back from the hospital for less than an hour. His departure hadn’t been one of his choosing, only at Calahan’s assurance that Kanda would be watched over, coupled with a firm insistence that he go take care of himself and get some rest. But how could he — or anyone in Portum, for that matter — manage to relax at a time like this? Not with the unexplained demise of one of their own, not with a dense fog eclipsing the vicinity of the town, and certainly not with Kanda confined to a bed at Portum General, practically catatonic when he had reluctantly left her bedside.
This had been Ronan’s first time home since the events of New Year’s Day, and the house felt... off. Wrong. A place that had been his refuge since arriving to Portum just felt hollow and empty now. Even with the knowledge that his family was accounted for, the weight of their absence was still profound. The idea that it could have easily been one of them that never made it home still lingered, the suffocating and unrelenting prospect continuing to claw at his chest. The moment the front door had creaked open, a wave of consummate relief washed over him as a figure emerged in the doorway, Ronan’s uncharacteristically rigid posture falling limp as he rushed towards Liam with a shaky exhale.
“Cronaím thú,” he managed to choke out, arms wrapping around the other in a tight embrace, unable to contain the swell of emotions he had kept in check for Kanda’s sake. “I-I’m… you’re h-here… y-you’re r-really…”
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