Heyyo!! tis Squeaks! Welcome to Sùilean Taibhse or Ghost's Eyes AU!
!!NOTE!! starting this blog from the most recent au post on my main
(I'm too lazy lmao)
Hands shook in his gloves, sweat clinging to his skin.
He wasn't mad. He wasn't fucking mad.
Without warning, thrust back to being 17, sat in a room with a psychologist and a polis officer. The light. It was harsh, flickering every so slightly, so infuriatingly insignificant. Still clammy silence, knowing all they wanted was answers that weren't true.
The questions began. "How are you?"
He stared, the punk in his eyes brewing. Lips pulling into a slight frown. "Carson a dh'fhaighnicheas tu dhomh nuair nach eil cùram ort?" <Why ask me when you don't care?>
"English, Mr. MacNeill," the cop chimed.
"Mc. Not Mac."
"Mr. McNeill. Settle. This is a calm environment. We have called you in to answer some questions-" the therapist or whatever. A short woman, dark hair, spotted skin. Condescending.
"And you start with a lie?"
"Please, Mr. McNeill, we do not need the hostility." Therapist again. He wouldn't bother to commit their names to memory, not yet.
"fine. I'm fine."
She realigned her papers, "that's good to hear. Now, our first question.. what happened?"
---
"I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not fucking crazy.." pacing in a small circle, gathering himself. "I'm fine Mhairi. Keep on with it, I'll catch up.." his green gaze snapping back to the ghostly blue figure with a pointed gare, "But I'm not. Leaving any of them behind."
---
"your mother has informed us you tend to talk to yourself?"
"she's fucking mental, don't listen to her."
"Ruiri."
He groaned, head tipping back, agonised by this interrogation, "Faeries."
"Fairies?"
"Faeries." His glare remained hard, unwavering. "Sometimes ghosts or spirits.. but mainly Faeries."
---
"Ru.. I didn't say anything about leaving anyone?"
What answered her was a grumble, and the quiet snap of a camera.
"Ru?"
"Ru,"
"Ruiri-"
"What?"
"are you.. seeing things?" The line fell quiet, the lasting silence pulling at her.
"I'm not mad."
"I know you're not mad. I am asking, can you see something down here?".
---
"I'm not fucking crazy! I see him- he tries to talk to me!" He shouted, desperate to have his truth believed in.
"Fairies, aren't real, let alone ghost's of old,"
"YES THEY FUCKING ARE."
The cop grunted something as he stepped forward, grabbing his shoulders.
"LET GO OF ME."
Another set of hands grabbed, snagging his hair and shirt, pushing him down to the cold concrete floor. "I'M NOT MAD! I'M NOT FUCKING MAD-"
The psychologist just sat and watched as two cops brought him to the ground, bearing the brunt of his shouting, he wasn't mad he wasn't mad.
"- keep in detention and conduct a psychological assessment."
“My brother Erik was reported missing in 1975 by his wife, it’s just a hunch that I have that he was on board the Beira D because it’s something would have done just for extra money so if you find the shirt or his body it wouldn’t surprise me,” - Aggie “he always did have a thing for oil rigs despite dad’s objections.”
Ach fuck it, I've got a bit on my mind and Mhairi said it'd be good to write things down so my head isn't so full.
Right..
I've always been able to.. see things. Faint shapes, even since I was wee. They would try to speak to me, but I couldnae understand what they said. First time I saw one, I was tiny, hid behind Mam's leg because I saw a glowing shape sitting on a street bench.
Another time, when I was with Rowan, I saw another one, this one seemed older, more fantastical than the first. I told him, he said t go see our older neighbours, Mr an Mrs MacAllan. They're the folks who owned that great big, black Newfoundland, Harley.
Harley passed away a few years ago. I still see her; her.. presence still runs up to the gate whenever I'd come an visit those two.
Anyways- Mr MacAllan told me about second sight, and thought I may have the gift as well. He told me to always be kind to the faeries, and in turn the faeries would be kind to me.
I could see both the faeries and those faint shapes still, some more clear than others.
I went to Skye a week or so back, an stood where Mhairi and her Pa used to, at that bench. Beautiful place. But Albert wasnae there. I couldnae see him, or even feel that he was there..
Honestly? This upsets me. 'cause I've never seen or felt Rowan at home. Not even where he and Arthur used to watch the water, and have a moment of peace. Even if no-one'll let me call them the lovers they were.
To try and clear my thoughts yesterday, I went to Kisimul. I've always felt close to that castle... May be my clan, may be my name. It's not the first time I've seen something up in the stone walks at the high of the walls. But this was the first time I'd seen him so clearly.. he was a bit shorter than me, in old old clothes and ancient tartan, he had a long red beard an long read hair. He felt familiar, and it almost felt like he knew me, or I knew him..
He tried to speak to me, I couldn't tell his words but I could pick up the old Gaelic in his voice. I greeted him, an apologised that I couldn't hear him, as best I could. Good thing I was there alone, else folks'll be callin me mad again. But he seemed to understand, and gave me a nod. He didn't stay long, I stood with him in the keep for another good five minutes before he vanished downstairs again.
I think I know who I met. The man I'm named after. Next time I go to the castle I'll make sure to leave him a bottle of whisky.
