go deo na ndeor.

Kenneth Cassidy McLáchlan Unfortunately deceased.

[kitmclachlan-blog]

miguel-soto:

What the hell harm could a first name do? The bird didn’t know his last name, nor did he have any other valuable information. For all they knew there were like four different Miguel’s in Port Ashbourne. He really doubted that, but the possibility was still there. The only downside to telling the crow his name was now he could use it whenever he so pleased. But Miguel was far better than fucking Poncho… “Then why the hell did you tell me your name?” He barked back, narrowing his eyes at the damn thing just before the ghost started speaking another language again. Luckily, the threat seemed to do the job, considering the crow flew away. “Thank God.” The man breathed out, visibly relaxing now that the racist talking bird had taken its leave. “What language was that anyway?” 

The backpack on his shoulders was getting rather heavy. It had groceries his aunt had asked him to pick up after his shift at the store ended. He didn’t mind taking a little break from his walk back home, but the bench looked a lot more comfortable than standing right now. Miguel moved to sit next to Kit after he apologized, nodding his head in agreement. “I used to be terrible at getting angry. Now I’m pretty skilled in it.” He’d been referring to his older brother, whom he’d hated for quite some years now. Manuel refused to leave him alone, in fact he just loved to show up uninvited whenever he pleased.

“I’m assuming that’s Ireland?” Setting down on the bench beside the man, Miguel laid his backpack down beside him, making sure to keep it close. There had been far too many times his stuff had been stolen in Tijuana, and that left him worried for life. “What did you do? I’m trying to finish up my residency. It’s been years, but I still got the dream of becoming a neurosurgeon.” Miguel turned towards Kit, giving him a small smile. “Nice to meet you Kit. Not really a fan of your pet, and I’m still confused about the talking bit, but…hope he stays away.” 

Kit ignores Odin indignant cawing as he flies away and turns his attention fully back to his new companion, Miguel. If he could have a migraine, he probably would but alas he was dead and it didn’t matter. “Gaeilge.” Kit explains softly, in a matter-of-fact voice tone as he used to explain things to his residents back in the hospital. Often Kit forgot, especially now that he didn’t have anyone else to talk to, that most people didn’t even know what Gaelic sounded like, let alone know it. “Irish gaelic, aye.” He says shyly, looking away as Miguel sits on the bench by his side. The comment on anger made him nod, tilting his head towards Miguel just slightly, still avoiding eye contact. “My da’ used to say, a light heart lives longer, old Irish saying, I always thought anger was useless.”

“I been living--- well, I was living in America since I was sixteen so actually guess I worked here more than there?” He pauses for a long moment, watching Miguel so protective of his belongings and wondering what might’ve happened for someone to act such a way, well, who could tell right? Kit was never parameter to anything. The moment Miguel brings up his residency, however, every sign of shyness flies off the handle and Kit makes a full body turn so he’s facing the other man properly, if he were alive, his eyes would probably be shiny with the possibility of talking medicine with someone, after so long. “I was a surgeon! Well, I never specialized in anything other than emergency 'coz I didn’t have time, aye? I was a director in the hospital here-- I wanted to do so much more...” He trails off for a moment, blinking, trying to recall every memory and emotion he had then, so he wouldn’t be lost in bittersweet memories. 

“The pleasure is mine Miguel-- I am so sorry for Odin.” And makes a small pause. “You’re a medium, you have never seen a Familiar spirit before?” Maybe it shouldn’t be odd but Kit came from a magical hub, grew up in another and Port Ashborne was another so it was somewhat surprising people didn’t have more familiars around?

[kitmclachlan-blog]

asher-o-conner:

Asher presses his lips into a thin line. “Pretty sure it already did.” To be honest, he doesn’t mind being consumed by work. It is what he is used to. The concern is somewhat repetitive, from those who around him. Kit is somewhat relentless on that part, always appearing out of nowhere when he is alone (which he mostly is) and at work (which also is the place Asher spends most of his time). “..it doesn’t look that bad.” He protests weakly. “You still need Vitamin D. And you work as much as I do, so…” He points out, matching Kit with the same arm crossing. It occurs to him he almost never ran into Dr. McLáchlan outside of work. “I eat all three meals. I jog regularly. I am healthy.” Physically, he probably is. Minus the lack of sleep which is a common occupational hazard. “How have you been anyway? Don’t think I’ve seen you around a lot.”

Kit refrains from sighing out loud in Asher’s face and simply offers a strangled smile and shakes his head. Asher would regret that when he died, Kit could tell that for sure. It was a sad thing, barely even having friends who miss you after you’re gone, but probably the guy had a better brother than Kit did. “Well, let’s just say I don’t have a real life.” Maybe a stretch on the words but not a lie by any means. “You don’t look healthy, Asher, come on, let’s get you out of this place before someone finds you and drags you back.” Kit says amused and nods towards the door, hoping Asher would go ahead and open it. Kit often wondered how come Asher never wondered why he was always wearing the same clothes, why his hair never changed - well, some people just were really inattentive right? “I’m alright, thank you for asking, trying my best to stay occupied.” 

[kitmclachlan-blog]

asher-o-conner:

Asher diverts his eyes by the accusation– it may be a simple question but from the context he feels as if he was a kid got caught eating from a cookie jar. He never really had someone to scold him on eating cookies by the time he was old enough, though. “Technically.” He murmurs, scratches the back of his head. “Work relaxes me?” He offers weakly, which it is partially true. Work clears his head. He can focus on task at hands at block out everything else. And without work, he has to admit, he is going a little crazy. “Hey, I’m healthy. Sorta… In my own way.” He shrugs. “And you’re the one to say. When’s the last time you’ve seen sunlight?” Best defense is offense, they say.

Kit smiles back sympathetically - if Asher had come to work under his guidance when he was alive, he could’ve probably cared more for him. Kit liked to think that back then he had been a good director but that hardly mattered now. “Work relaxed--- relaxes me too but every once in a while you need learn to step back or it’ll consume you.” He says as nicely as possible, not entirely bothered by his medium friend’s defensiveness. If he got a coin for every time Asher tried to avert his questions, he’d probably have enough to buy himself a new body. “You know, I’m a doctor too, I can tell when someone’s not healthy just by looking at them and those bags under your eyes don’t lie, do they?” Kit folds his arms over his chest and then laughs quietly at the question. “I’m Irish, if I stay out in the sun I’ll end up looking like a roasted shrimp.” Kit pauses and sighs. “Come on O’Conner, when’s the last time you had a proper meal?”

[kitmclachlan-blog]

asher-o-conner:

@kitmclachlan

Asher swears he wasn’t going to work today. He is, after all, on a vacation half-suggested half-coerced by his boss who specifically said “I will put you back to coma if I see you around the hospital.” But when you are a workaholic and you left all your papers and laptop left at work, you gotta sneak back to your office to get your things. You would think he could have asked his colleagues, but Asher’s policy is to do it yourself if you can do it. He hurriedly stuffs everything in his back. He turns around to leave only to flinch as he finds McLáchlan. “Jesus– fucking Christ.” He lets out a relieved sigh. The man seems to make no sound at all, all the fucking time. “Thought you’re the director.”

He was sure one day he would have to casually mention to Asher O’Conner that he was, in fact, dead. Which was funny, most mediums could tell when they were seeing a ghost from a human, sure Kit was strong enough that he wasn’t see-through and kept most of his ‘looking alive’ qualities... well, maybe he had looked a little dead when he was alive, whichever, still. But insofar all he could do whenever Asher walked in on him was smile and act as alive as possible, if that’s something someone can act? “Shouldn’t you be resting home, Doctor O’Conner?” He asks amused, standing there, watching Asher with one raised eyebrow. He refrains from mumbling ‘I used to be’ and keeps to himself. “That’s not healthy, you know, doctors should lead by example.”

[kitmclachlan-blog]

Badhbh Catha ("battle crow")

In Irish mythology, the Badb —meaning "crow"—is a war goddess who takes the form of a crow, and is thus sometimes known as Badb Catha ("battle crow"). She is known to cause fear and confusion among soldiers to move the tide of battle to her favoured side. Badb may also appear prior to a battle to foreshadow the extent of the carnage to come, or to predict the death of a notable person. She would sometimes do this through wailing cries, leading to comparisons with the bean-sídhe (banshee). With her sisters, Macha and the Morrígan, Badb is part of a trio of war goddesses known as the Morrígna.

About the Familiar: Odin, the crow, is the reanimated corpse of a regular carrion crow, imbued with a soul of someone who was neither ghost nor had returned to the Flow, the theory is that it’s a soul made of various pieces remaining afloat, stemmed from tragedies. But no one can prove it and no one knows exactly what are the familiar’s souls. Though he has a soul of his own, the familiar shares his master’s life-force, thus while Kit’s ghost remain, he does too. The moment Kit moves on, the familiar should vanish.  Considered a type of guardian, a companion and a helper, Odin like kit was the first of the three crows the triplets summoned in their childhood. Three Morrígna, three crows. Huginn and Muninn, his siblings, died when their masters were killed. 

Odin shares Kit’s soft heart but not the soft personality, most of the preposterous things he says are only to spite people and he’s never really interested in making friends. Odin has no particular powers other than regenerating, due to the fact he’s attached to Kit’s soul. And of course, he also talks like a regular human being, with a crow’s voice projection - he’s a conscious soul inside an animal’s body. Due to the resonance he has with his master, Kit can possess the crow’s body effortlessly if needed be.

[kitmclachlan-blog]

miguel-soto:

Miguel was sure his mouth was hanging nearly down to the ground just watching the two of them go at it. Not only was there English with an accent he assumed was Irish, but they were speaking some old sounding language as well. It was hard enough understanding English without the accent, now this? “Uh…I….” Words didn’t seem to be forming, but he did grunt out another laugh. The bit was quite comical until the bird brought his race into it. Had he left that part out, Miguel wouldn’t have gotten nearly as offended as he did. But not only did he call him Poncho once, he’d done it a second time. “Miguel. Though I feel you’ve lost the right to my name because you’re being an asshole. Being from Ireland certainly does not give you the right to throw your racism around. What if I called you an overgrown pigeon? You like that bird?” 

Sarcasm oozed from Miguel’s soul, one he had come to know quite well over some well adjusted years in Port Ashbourne. If people picked on him, it was quite easy to revert back to sarcasm rather than completely let them get away with it. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Though my grandpa had us kill chickens once…it was rather traumatizing.” The Soto family farm had gone under many, many years before Miguel even had the chance to visit more than twice in his life. Everything grew barren, and the animals started dying off before his grandfather had the chance to ask who wanted to take it off his hands. The man was too old and too tired to really care for the damn thing anyway. “It’s not that great. I mean the sun. You sweat and with a complexion like yours you’d probably burn to a crisp.” It was a joke, but Miguel wasn’t sure the guy would get that part. “Ah, that was a joke…what’s your name again? Not the same as your bird, I presume.” 

It felt a bit nice, well, as far as Kit could feel anything - his emotions were still there, feelings too, crystal clear. It was nice to not be alone a little, even if he felt flustered, awkward and definitely ashamed for Odin’s behavior. ‘Miguel, of course, let me tell you one thing, you shouldn’t give out your real name to strangers like this, real names hold power.’ Odin croaked back, though his voice was always malicious and amused, the advice was sound. ‘And I would be offended only if I cared about your opinion, which I don’t, ése.’ Kit can’t help rolling his eyes for the millionth time. “Odin, mura bhfuil t suas, tá mé ag a thabhairt duit go McDonalds.” He threatens and the crow stares back offended. The familiar snaps his beak threateningly back at Kit and Miguel and then takes off the bench, flying away for the moment. Kit sighs a little bit in relief, looking back apologetically at Miguel. 

“I am truly sorry for his behavior, he was much nicer when I was alive, I suppose he’s just trying to keep me grounded by making me angry, I don’t know, I was never good at being angry.” He apologizes for the hundredth time and looks down on his hands, fidgeting with his fingertips. “I never liked killing things either, though where I come from we didn’t have much of a choice.” He says amused, a small smile forming on his mouth. Miguel’s joke about the sun made him laugh, even if a little awkward and shy, Kit nodded. “That’s why I chose the right profession when I was alive, I’d spend so much time indoors maybe that’s why I miss the sun now.” He jokes back, unsure if that was an appropriate response or not. “Name’s Kit-- I mean, that’s not my name but it’s what everyone calls me, my name is Kenneth, nice to meet you Miguel, sorry for my demon bird being... like that.”

[kitmclachlan-blog]

tashaoneil:

There was a safe distance between herself and the other ghost that sat on the bench. He seemed to be talking to the bird the perched next to him. They seemed to be arguing though friendly enough. There weren’t many things that surprised her but the sight of the other ghost did just that. She had never met anyone like her yet. Or anyone on their own, groups, or attached to a person was different.

“Who do you take advice from?” Tasha asked with a smile on her face. Making up her mind that the best way to be was friendly at this point. It couldn’t hurt to have another ghost around. maybe someone who knew a bit more about all this death stuff than she did. “What is he?” She looked down at the bird and then back up to the ghost. “I’ve never seen anything like him.” 

Kit was prone to avoiding the living, the dead and everyone in-between. He wasn’t only shy but he was afraid, if anything, by his experience with his siblings, harm could come from anywhere. He was, however, especially afraid of other ghosts, the very potential threat of being consumed by someone made him skittish in a cat-like fashion... but still, most other ghosts were too caught up in their own grief, pity and anger to mind him. He looked up to see the girl approach, yep, definitely a new ghost. He fidgeted with his hands, looking back at her in the expectancy for her to talk.  

Her question makes him break out a small smile in return. “Where I come from, and I supposed we come from close places, they say don’t give pearls to pigs and don’t take advice from a fool, so I don’t take advice from a foolish crow.” Even if shy and awkward, Kit had always been soft and friendly at heart, that was something he wouldn’t change. Odin rolled his eyes at the other ghost but kept to himself, for the moment. “WHAT? That is offensive-- of course, you’re English, I am a who, Aleanbh, my name’s Odin--” Kit simply waves him off, making Odin’s beak snap shut with a small spell. “He’s a familiar, uh, I don’t know if you’re acquainted with the term? You know all those black cats that walk with witches?”

[kitmclachlan-blog]

miguel-soto:

He could have interrupted with his own comments as the ghost and the talking bird continued to speak. It was odd but rather amusing as well. Actually, it reminded Miguel of those cartoons he used to watch as a child, the Looney Toons. All they were missing was the mild TV violence, and they could put on their own act. The small smile that crept up on his lips was coughed out of him as he tried to remain a neutral bystander in this odd situation he was in.

“Poncho?” Miguel said it like the crow had just cursed at him, and to some extent he had. For a moment, he thought about plucking the black bird’s damn feathers off its body for its rather racist remark. “You’re talking bird is a bit racist, don’t you think?” The man quipped, eyeing the crow cautiously as he stepped closer. Miguel gripped his bag a bit tighter as he did so, knowing his mild annoyance to the comment was because he was fed up with how racist America seemed to be towards Hispanics. He’d only ever heard a few offhanded comments about himself and his race, but a talking bird? He had no damn right. “So is it just me, or are you hell bent on being unseen? I mean I’m not one for attention either, but you are sort of just…out in the open.”

Kit couldn’t help pinching the bridge of his nose under the glasses that would be forever stuck to his face, if he were alive, he’d probably be blushing from his toes to the tip of his ears, embarrassed by his avian companion, who was the comical lovechild of Mulan’s dragon Mushu with an alcoholic overweight Irish Joe. Honestly, for every tale that said Familiars were demon spirits, Kit was prone to believing them the more time he spent with Odin as his sole companion. When he was alive, he had gotten in enough trouble because of the crow but now in death, all Odin could (mostly) do was pick fights for himself. “He’s not a talking bird--- he’s a talking asshole, I am so so sorry for him-- he used to be nicer--- Odin,  Dún do bheal!” Kit snaps in gaeilge back at the crow, glowering and truly considering just disappearing from there but Odin only laughs harder. 

“Póg mo thóin, Kit, we’re from country Ireland, I have the right to be racist! And I have a name, it’s Odin, do you have one or can I just keep calling you Poncho?” The crow sneers back and Kit simply stares dumbfounded at him, then deciding to ignore the creature and back at the man that had decided to sit there. “You can try to kill him, I won’t be mad, I promise.” Kit says tiredly, rolling his eyes at the cackling bird. Kudos to his resilience, after being offended by a racist talking animal he still decided to stick around. “Not... hell bent...” Kit drifts, looking away as if he was still alive, fidgeting with the hem of his plaid shirt. “...most people don’t see ghosts and the ones who do... tend to walk past? I’m not... I miss the sun.” He says softly, looking up at the blue sky above them. He couldn’t feel the warmth per say but there was still a difference between staying indoors all the time. 

[kitmclachlan-blog]

miguel-soto:

Now there was something you didn’t see every day. A man was talking to a crow, and the crow was talking about to him. It took Miguel a moment to realize that yes; the crow was in fact talking. He rubbed his eyes as if he were dreaming. Cleared his throat and tried unclogging his ears, but still, the crow spoke. What in the hell was going on in this town? Ghosts were one thing, which this man certainly was, but talking crows? This was a whole new playing field that Miguel wasn’t quite sure he was ready to dive into.

 “I’m pretty sure I’m awake, sir. You might be dead, but I can see you. And your…talking bird.” The man blinked again, hesitantly moving forward. Obviously the two were having some sort of argument, he wasn’t sure it was the right time to step forward and figure out what the hell was going on. It really was none of his business, but curiosity won against his better judgement.  “I’m not exactly new at this whole ghost thing. Bee at it for six years now, but I’m still a bit new. So call me crazy but is he supposed to be talking like that?”

Kit and Odin exchanged confused and amused looks as the man in front of them rubbed his eyes - but unluckily, the man decided that the things he was seeing were, in fact, quite real. “See what you done now? I told you to stop talking, bloody bird.” Kit sighs back at his crow, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning as Odin cackled back a hoarse laughter. ‘Well he’s a medium so what? He can see ghosts, what’s’a’matter with me?’ The crow snips back and stares back at the man, while Kit simply waves his hand as if to pretense slap the bird.

Kit looked away, if he was alive he’d definitely have blushed simply for being acknowledged as being there and wondered if he could just fade and blink elsewhere but Odin snapped his beak again. ‘Oh no, don’t leave me alone with Poncho here-- no offense hermano.’ Groaning in dismay, the ghost doctor simply folded his arms and looked up at the man that was talking to them. “What he doesn’t know is how to shut up, apparently-- I’m sorry for him, I truly am, when I was alive I could control his temper but now it’s just--” And he waves a little at loss towards the misbehaving bird. “Why do you need to be like that?” Kit asks exasperate back at the crow and if he could, Odin would’ve just shrugged. 

[kitmclachlan-blog]

marina-hadlock:

 It was a strange feeling whenever she heard the voice of that raven. The noise that had once been overwhelmingly irritating was now the only thing remaining of a friend, or at least one of the closest people she ever had to one nowadays. She wasn’t a medium, so whenever Kit made an ‘appearance’ now, she wasn’t quite sure where she should stand or sit. She didn’t like the idea of ghosts passing through her, so she did her best to avoid accidentally depositing a limb or two into the same space Kit was occupying. Figuring it was most likely Kit was sitting, she elects to stand beside the bench disregarding her walk home for the minute. 

“Or maybe he’s alone because people don’t want to be around his annoying pet pigeon.” She comments announcing her presence whilst raising the coffee cup to her lips to hide the fact that she’s speaking to a bird. “How’s death treating you Kit? Still having trouble making friends?” Her teasing is somewhat gentler than it was with the living though, at over three years since his death, she figures it’s probably not too much of a sore topic anymore. “You haven’t been the one messing with my spells in the hospital have you?” As ever to the point, she’d been meaning to speak with him about this for some time. She didn’t think it was Kit, if anything it was that bloody bird, but better safe than sorry.

Kit always felt something akin of guilt whenever he “faced” Marina, of course, feeling guilty for his own death was probably preposterous but he couldn’t help it. He felt like he had abandoned the girl to her own devices and she wasn’t a medium, he was effectively -mostly- gone from her life. He still watched over her, in the hospital, in her way home sometimes, he wasn’t an angel by any means but she was whatever was left of a friend and he could look after the girl. Watching her sit by his side still made him smile, that is, until of course Odin decided to snap back at her. ‘Most people still like me more than they like you and I’m not even human, Sabrina.’

“Odin!” She couldn’t hear him but he still scowled the crow. Before his familiar could keep bantering with Marina, Kit did what he usually did so they could talk, and reached out his hand to “touch” the crow and possessing its body. Odin was never an unauthorized possession since the familiar’s soul was part of his as well. “You know, that movie Ghost made it look a lot more emotional and romantic that it actually is, it’s pretty boring.” It’s Odin’s voice but Kit’s brain behind it, as he watches Marina from the eyes of his crow. “I couldn’t make friends when I was alive, let alone in death.” The laughter sounds more like cawing but there’s only so much he can do from where he stands. He was still shy if people could see him but Marina had been around long enough that he wasn’t nearly as terrified anymore. “Messing? How were your spells messed? Maybe the runes I reinforced in the grounds may be interfering but it’s unlikely...”

[kitmclachlan-blog]

Probably the weirdest thing about being a ghost was the fact life went on around him. Sitting on a park bench by himself, in his half-dead existence. Being invisible to the rest of the world, while he had wanted that back then, now just felt awfully lonely and oppressive. 'Maybe if you weren’t always hiding from mediums and Tuners, you wouldn’t be so lonely.’ He rolls his eyes at the talking crow by his side - Odin, his familiar, a rather unpleasant raven that loved to pick on him even though they had been together for nineteen years so far. 

“Well, I ain’t taking advice from someone who shits on people’s cars.” Kit sneers back as Odin stares offended back at him. If he didn’t have his familiar, he sure as hell would be a lot lonelier. Odin snaps his beak back at him. ‘I changed my mind, THAT is why you are alone--’ Kit waves quickly back at the crow to shut up. While most people couldn’t see him, they could see and hear the familiar. The two of them look warily back at the person standing there and staring. “I sure hope they’re thinking they’re imagining things, fer’ Goddess sake, I’ll put ye on a cage.” He pauses for a second, ignoring the person’s presence (he couldn’t be seen, right?). “I’m alone ‘cause I’m DEAD, you evil critter.”

[kitmclachlan-blog]

Kenneth ‘Kit’ McLáchlan

Down an unknown road to embrace my fate Though that road may wander, it will lead me to you And a thousand years would be worth the wait It might take a lifetime but somehow I'll see it through