[tms] 36.5 - divide
Leprechauns are destructive by nature. Benevolent as fey can be, but they are destructive little buggers. Me brother’s no exception. Like most of his kind, he digs, he breaks things, he ne’er sits still, and he’s not capable or not willin’ to take ‘no’ for an answer when ‘tis given. That gulf has separated us all our lives. Size, stature, place, we share none of it save our fey blood.
Yet we’re brothers all the same. Twins, all the same. So I trust him, of course, in one place few others would: me studio.
Most think me mad, even our own parents, but Eamus is different there than any other place where he must tread light and careful. Sure, a bouncing ball of energy he’ll be, but after a while he takes his place upon the highest point and lays on his belly with his chin in his hands. I work, he watches. Occasionally he’ll grunt at me some, or slam me with magic to make his point known, but silence is what there’s most of.
A vast and endless cavern separates that little bloke from all the world around him. Humans dinna understand him, the fey’ll not give him the time of day. Leprechauns are scavengers, see, useful as horses or oxen yoked to plow the fields. Mindless animals who barely know how to speak, if at all, ‘tis what the sidhe see.
I am sidhe, and I’ll never be able to speak fully with me brother. I know him, though. Across the great divide, I know him for the man he is. There’s humanity in him, heart and soul, and that humanity gives me hope for meself. One day, to look in that mirror and know there’s a human yet to be found in me…
For such a little man, I look up to him a great deal. Literally and figuratively, from me place with the stones I find no greater comfort or sense of promise than when I look upwards. To lift my eyes and that grubby, hairy little face smooth and peaceful between his hands as he watches me work…it reminds me that the true magic’s not in the whisper of granite or marble no other ears can hear. The magic’s in the making, the strong and sure touch of knowing where the images are hidin’ beneath the craggy surface.
We are polished blocks, he and I, cut from different varieties of stone. Twins all the same, brothers staring at each other across the gulf.
Yet still we stare, eyes findin’ eyes each and every time.
Muse: Seamus O'Leary
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 430
Yet we’re brothers all the same. Twins, all the same. So I trust him, of course, in one place few others would: me studio.
Most think me mad, even our own parents, but Eamus is different there than any other place where he must tread light and careful. Sure, a bouncing ball of energy he’ll be, but after a while he takes his place upon the highest point and lays on his belly with his chin in his hands. I work, he watches. Occasionally he’ll grunt at me some, or slam me with magic to make his point known, but silence is what there’s most of.
A vast and endless cavern separates that little bloke from all the world around him. Humans dinna understand him, the fey’ll not give him the time of day. Leprechauns are scavengers, see, useful as horses or oxen yoked to plow the fields. Mindless animals who barely know how to speak, if at all, ‘tis what the sidhe see.
I am sidhe, and I’ll never be able to speak fully with me brother. I know him, though. Across the great divide, I know him for the man he is. There’s humanity in him, heart and soul, and that humanity gives me hope for meself. One day, to look in that mirror and know there’s a human yet to be found in me…
For such a little man, I look up to him a great deal. Literally and figuratively, from me place with the stones I find no greater comfort or sense of promise than when I look upwards. To lift my eyes and that grubby, hairy little face smooth and peaceful between his hands as he watches me work…it reminds me that the true magic’s not in the whisper of granite or marble no other ears can hear. The magic’s in the making, the strong and sure touch of knowing where the images are hidin’ beneath the craggy surface.
We are polished blocks, he and I, cut from different varieties of stone. Twins all the same, brothers staring at each other across the gulf.
Yet still we stare, eyes findin’ eyes each and every time.
Muse: Seamus O'Leary
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 430