The shadow-chaser
Still another lengthy entry for therealljidol topic 6: "Sunrise." Though with all the dialogue, it's not so long as it might look. A continuation of Lily and Ciaran's story. See part 1 here, and part 2 here.
I am following an insanely gorgeous, probably magical man I just met through the library.
For several moments, Lily found that was the only thought she could muster. Unfortunately, it was quickly followed by a fleeting daydream of being secreted away to a far corner of the stacks, where Ciaran would kiss her passionately...
He didn't turn back to look at her, but he did let out a small cough that somehow managed to sound amused. Damn it. Still thinking too loud. Lily sighed, lamenting her brain's constant tendency to narrate itself like a romance novel.
"Don't worry yourself," Ciaran said softly, glancing over his shoulder but still leading the way. "There's no shame in seeing the world with softer edges."
She didn't know what to say to that, so she didn't speak. But she knew he'd sense her gratitude. He squeezed her hand lightly to let her know she was right.
They rounded a corner, and to her surprise, Lily realized that they were in a section of the library she'd never seen before. Curious. She thought certainly she knew every area that was public, except for anything to do with math and physics. They emerged into what looked like a cross between an archive and a private reading room; Lily spotted a brass placard reading "State Archives." The ceilings were lower, and there were banker-style tables and plush armchairs here and there among the chest-high shelves and drawers.
"No one's here," she said in wonder. "It's so quiet."
"It will be, of a Saturday," Ciaran replied evenly. "It would seem the history majors don't study at the weekend."
"Lucky us," Lily replied, eyes wide as she took it all in. Old maps and newspapers, drawers labeled with the names of towns, schools, agencies, a full stack of bound legal volumes.
He tugged her hand gently, making her blink. She'd forgotten it was there; her hand in Ciaran's already felt that familiar. He moved toward a matched set of brocaded button-tufted chairs and released Lily's hand to let her choose.
Lily smiled, shrugged off her backpack, and sank gratefully into the seat on the left, tucking one leg beneath her. He removed the messenger bag she hadn't realized he was carrying, settling in to the other with both feet flat on the floor. She took the opportunity to look her fill, memorizing him head to toe - and appreciating him all the more that it didn't make him smug, uncomfortable, or overly bold.
"But surely you've had impressions before now," he said, mildly confused.
"Certainly nothing like the reality," Lily blushed. "And frankly...it's quite like you came straight out of my head, full stop."
She hadn't expected him to blush, too. The butterflies in her gut found it adorable.
"You certainly know how to make a lad feel welcome," he said humbly.
"Sorry," she smiled. "Unfortunately, I don't know how not to say what I'm thinking."
"You say it well," he replied. "Forthrightness is naught to be ashamed of, either."
"I suppose that's true," she said. "I just wish I was a little more graceful with it."
"The grace is in the person," he said. "And your sincerity is artful all itself."
"You can't possibly be real," Lily marveled. "Are you a saint? Are you Cupid?"
"Nothing so terribly noble," he said, doing nothing so mundane as shrugging. "My dad's in petrol; the company sent him here eight years ago, when I was thirteen. My mum and I stayed so I could finish secondary, I puttered around for two years after, and then I followed."
"Why?" Lily asked, genuinely curious. It wasn't the kind of city that people came to voluntarily.
"It seemed like the thing to do," Ciaran replied. "Like I said, I..."
"Know where you're supposed to be, when you're supposed to be there," Lily breathed. He nodded, holding her gaze plainly.
"But," he continued. "I haven't figured out fully...why, as yet."
Lily was puzzled at this. "But you seem to..."
"Know everything? Not really," he said, and she raised an eyebrow at him. He inclined his head in a way that, were he anyone else, would have been chastising. From Ciaran, it was simply emphatic. "I follow the pattern," he added. "I get impressions. I knew what you would look like, what sort of person you'd be. I knew that to get where you're going, you'd need a travel companion. I knew that once I met you, I'd want to follow you anywhere."
Now she was full-on blushing - most of all because there wasn't a hint of pretense or melodrama. Her heart was pounding so hard that she couldn't think of a thing to say.
"You don't have to," he said. "All we need to know right now is that we're on the right path. I found you. I have something to do with your journey." A deep breath (a crack in the armor? Lily thinks).
"And yes." His voice rumbled up sotto voce from somewhere very deep in his chest - the first time she'd heard it change even slightly with a depth of emotion. "I will follow you wherever it takes you."
"Ciaran," Lily whispered. "Wherever did you come from?"
He chuckled gently. "Aberdeen, sweetheart," he said. "Just Aberdeen. I'm simply a bloke who has very good hearing."
She smiled back at him wistfully. "I'm glad you were listening," she said. "I think I'm going to need a tour guide."
"Well," he said. "I've no idea whether I'll be a wise choice. But I assure you I'll be a committed one."
"That's more than I could have imagined."
His eyes twinkled. "Sweet, I'm not sure I believe that. I do read the Register, after all."
Lily gasped in mock horror. "Surely you won't believe that rag?"
"Ah, but your feature write-ups are marvelous. You display a remarkable sense of details beyond the mundane."
She laughed. "So that's why you're here. It's my reportage that drew you in."
"At least in part," Ciaran said agreeably. "My favorite was your do on the speech club's weekend at the beach."
Now Lily rolled her eyes, still grinning. "I'm sure you were riveted by my talk of the impromptu debate on grilled fish vs. fried."
"That too," he replied, the depth in his eyes growing warmer still. "But more so your talk of the Lincoln address atop a sand dune."
She felt her mood shift from amused back to amazed, and blinked slowly at him. "Why that?" she asked, more quietly than before. "It wasn't even a full paragraph."
"Because I could see it," he said. "I could see you. Standing there barefoot next to your friends, wrapped up in fleeces, all of you shouting into the wind. Calling forth the sun."
Lily let her eyes, brimming with tears, fall closed - and there she was again, sand between her toes.
...shall not perish from the earth!
They'd finished Gettysburg and watched with surprise as pitch black turned to deep violet. None of them had really expected to greet the sun - then, suddenly, it was inevitable. Seagulls danced lazily through a haze of purple, pink, and orange; shrimp trawlers waded gently away from shore. The sun grew from a melting blob of sherbet into a shimmering neon disk as the bright hues around it cooled into a rich, gentle blue.
It took my breath away.
In the here and now, she felt breathless again. Lily opened her eyes to find Ciaran crouched in front of her chair, watching her tenderly. He reached up to brush a stray tear from her face, gave the slightest hint of a smile when she turned her cheek into his hand.
"My sunrise," she said. "That's you. Bringing everything to light."
"You're too kind," he said gratefully, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. "But I'm happy you know me as a light-bringer."
"Am I one?"
"I've no doubt. I can't imagine what else you'd be."
"Maybe just a daydreamer."
"Most assuredly, lass, yer no' just anythin'."
Despite herself, a peal of laughter escaped from Lily's throat. "I could get used to that," she said, beaming.
"You'll have the time," Ciaran grinned.
"Can we start today?"
"I would nae have it awt."
"Now you're just teasing me," she giggled.
"Only just," he said gently, searching her eyes. "Do you want to go?"
Lily glanced up at the ceiling, the documents lining the shelves. She felt comfortable, coccooned in old paper and knowledge. In...something more, she knew, as her dark eyes dropped to meet his indigo gaze.
"Not just now," she smiled. He nodded, and to her delight, leaned in close -
- twined her hand in his again, and kissed her fingers softly. Off her puzzled look (he doesn't want to kiss me?), he drew her hand to his chest, over his heart. And she felt it thumping.
"Don't worry. Remember?" he said. "I promise you'll have the time."
Lily nodded too. "I remember," she whispered.
"I'm glad," Ciaran breathed. "I'll do all I can to be sure you never forget."
She nodded again. "But it's still..."
"...a little bit terrifying."
Lily sighed. "Yes."
"Sweetheart." He shook his head as if to brush away every fear. The look in his eyes lifted her to the clouds, warmed her from the inside out.
And then he said the thing that would stay with her forever, his voice rich with an ancient depth.
"Lianán. Let your sunrise chase away the shadows."
After that, she was powerless to say no.
I am following an insanely gorgeous, probably magical man I just met through the library.
For several moments, Lily found that was the only thought she could muster. Unfortunately, it was quickly followed by a fleeting daydream of being secreted away to a far corner of the stacks, where Ciaran would kiss her passionately...
He didn't turn back to look at her, but he did let out a small cough that somehow managed to sound amused. Damn it. Still thinking too loud. Lily sighed, lamenting her brain's constant tendency to narrate itself like a romance novel.
"Don't worry yourself," Ciaran said softly, glancing over his shoulder but still leading the way. "There's no shame in seeing the world with softer edges."
She didn't know what to say to that, so she didn't speak. But she knew he'd sense her gratitude. He squeezed her hand lightly to let her know she was right.
They rounded a corner, and to her surprise, Lily realized that they were in a section of the library she'd never seen before. Curious. She thought certainly she knew every area that was public, except for anything to do with math and physics. They emerged into what looked like a cross between an archive and a private reading room; Lily spotted a brass placard reading "State Archives." The ceilings were lower, and there were banker-style tables and plush armchairs here and there among the chest-high shelves and drawers.
"No one's here," she said in wonder. "It's so quiet."
"It will be, of a Saturday," Ciaran replied evenly. "It would seem the history majors don't study at the weekend."
"Lucky us," Lily replied, eyes wide as she took it all in. Old maps and newspapers, drawers labeled with the names of towns, schools, agencies, a full stack of bound legal volumes.
He tugged her hand gently, making her blink. She'd forgotten it was there; her hand in Ciaran's already felt that familiar. He moved toward a matched set of brocaded button-tufted chairs and released Lily's hand to let her choose.
Lily smiled, shrugged off her backpack, and sank gratefully into the seat on the left, tucking one leg beneath her. He removed the messenger bag she hadn't realized he was carrying, settling in to the other with both feet flat on the floor. She took the opportunity to look her fill, memorizing him head to toe - and appreciating him all the more that it didn't make him smug, uncomfortable, or overly bold.
"But surely you've had impressions before now," he said, mildly confused.
"Certainly nothing like the reality," Lily blushed. "And frankly...it's quite like you came straight out of my head, full stop."
She hadn't expected him to blush, too. The butterflies in her gut found it adorable.
"You certainly know how to make a lad feel welcome," he said humbly.
"Sorry," she smiled. "Unfortunately, I don't know how not to say what I'm thinking."
"You say it well," he replied. "Forthrightness is naught to be ashamed of, either."
"I suppose that's true," she said. "I just wish I was a little more graceful with it."
"The grace is in the person," he said. "And your sincerity is artful all itself."
"You can't possibly be real," Lily marveled. "Are you a saint? Are you Cupid?"
"Nothing so terribly noble," he said, doing nothing so mundane as shrugging. "My dad's in petrol; the company sent him here eight years ago, when I was thirteen. My mum and I stayed so I could finish secondary, I puttered around for two years after, and then I followed."
"Why?" Lily asked, genuinely curious. It wasn't the kind of city that people came to voluntarily.
"It seemed like the thing to do," Ciaran replied. "Like I said, I..."
"Know where you're supposed to be, when you're supposed to be there," Lily breathed. He nodded, holding her gaze plainly.
"But," he continued. "I haven't figured out fully...why, as yet."
Lily was puzzled at this. "But you seem to..."
"Know everything? Not really," he said, and she raised an eyebrow at him. He inclined his head in a way that, were he anyone else, would have been chastising. From Ciaran, it was simply emphatic. "I follow the pattern," he added. "I get impressions. I knew what you would look like, what sort of person you'd be. I knew that to get where you're going, you'd need a travel companion. I knew that once I met you, I'd want to follow you anywhere."
Now she was full-on blushing - most of all because there wasn't a hint of pretense or melodrama. Her heart was pounding so hard that she couldn't think of a thing to say.
"You don't have to," he said. "All we need to know right now is that we're on the right path. I found you. I have something to do with your journey." A deep breath (a crack in the armor? Lily thinks).
"And yes." His voice rumbled up sotto voce from somewhere very deep in his chest - the first time she'd heard it change even slightly with a depth of emotion. "I will follow you wherever it takes you."
"Ciaran," Lily whispered. "Wherever did you come from?"
He chuckled gently. "Aberdeen, sweetheart," he said. "Just Aberdeen. I'm simply a bloke who has very good hearing."
She smiled back at him wistfully. "I'm glad you were listening," she said. "I think I'm going to need a tour guide."
"Well," he said. "I've no idea whether I'll be a wise choice. But I assure you I'll be a committed one."
"That's more than I could have imagined."
His eyes twinkled. "Sweet, I'm not sure I believe that. I do read the Register, after all."
Lily gasped in mock horror. "Surely you won't believe that rag?"
"Ah, but your feature write-ups are marvelous. You display a remarkable sense of details beyond the mundane."
She laughed. "So that's why you're here. It's my reportage that drew you in."
"At least in part," Ciaran said agreeably. "My favorite was your do on the speech club's weekend at the beach."
Now Lily rolled her eyes, still grinning. "I'm sure you were riveted by my talk of the impromptu debate on grilled fish vs. fried."
"That too," he replied, the depth in his eyes growing warmer still. "But more so your talk of the Lincoln address atop a sand dune."
She felt her mood shift from amused back to amazed, and blinked slowly at him. "Why that?" she asked, more quietly than before. "It wasn't even a full paragraph."
"Because I could see it," he said. "I could see you. Standing there barefoot next to your friends, wrapped up in fleeces, all of you shouting into the wind. Calling forth the sun."
Lily let her eyes, brimming with tears, fall closed - and there she was again, sand between her toes.
...shall not perish from the earth!
They'd finished Gettysburg and watched with surprise as pitch black turned to deep violet. None of them had really expected to greet the sun - then, suddenly, it was inevitable. Seagulls danced lazily through a haze of purple, pink, and orange; shrimp trawlers waded gently away from shore. The sun grew from a melting blob of sherbet into a shimmering neon disk as the bright hues around it cooled into a rich, gentle blue.
It took my breath away.
In the here and now, she felt breathless again. Lily opened her eyes to find Ciaran crouched in front of her chair, watching her tenderly. He reached up to brush a stray tear from her face, gave the slightest hint of a smile when she turned her cheek into his hand.
"My sunrise," she said. "That's you. Bringing everything to light."
"You're too kind," he said gratefully, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. "But I'm happy you know me as a light-bringer."
"Am I one?"
"I've no doubt. I can't imagine what else you'd be."
"Maybe just a daydreamer."
"Most assuredly, lass, yer no' just anythin'."
Despite herself, a peal of laughter escaped from Lily's throat. "I could get used to that," she said, beaming.
"You'll have the time," Ciaran grinned.
"Can we start today?"
"I would nae have it awt."
"Now you're just teasing me," she giggled.
"Only just," he said gently, searching her eyes. "Do you want to go?"
Lily glanced up at the ceiling, the documents lining the shelves. She felt comfortable, coccooned in old paper and knowledge. In...something more, she knew, as her dark eyes dropped to meet his indigo gaze.
"Not just now," she smiled. He nodded, and to her delight, leaned in close -
- twined her hand in his again, and kissed her fingers softly. Off her puzzled look (he doesn't want to kiss me?), he drew her hand to his chest, over his heart. And she felt it thumping.
"Don't worry. Remember?" he said. "I promise you'll have the time."
Lily nodded too. "I remember," she whispered.
"I'm glad," Ciaran breathed. "I'll do all I can to be sure you never forget."
She nodded again. "But it's still..."
"...a little bit terrifying."
Lily sighed. "Yes."
"Sweetheart." He shook his head as if to brush away every fear. The look in his eyes lifted her to the clouds, warmed her from the inside out.
And then he said the thing that would stay with her forever, his voice rich with an ancient depth.
"Lianán. Let your sunrise chase away the shadows."
After that, she was powerless to say no.