Discordiae - Jackson's Story

Interlude - Pádraig

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Finnegan's Landing - May 19th

A bright morning greeted the gentle giant, whom did not feel particularly gentle this morning.

The birds sang sweetly in tunes of such harmony, one would think they were scripted. A playful wind chided lightly through the trees. The sun basked warmly on his face, that perfect feeling of warmth, without humidity. What few clouds were in the sky were light and fluffy cirrus clouds that showed no sign of turning. A day where no problem could easily exist. A peaceful day.

Somehow, it severely pissed Pádraig off. "If those birds don't stop singing so far out of tune, I'm going to feed them to a tone-deaf cat and see how they like it." he growled. 'Why am I outside? I thought I fell asleep on the couch. Pádraig thought. 'This doesn't make any sense.' His head ached from not getting enough sleep... or maybe it was too much. 'Why was it so sunny?'

"Pádraig, what are ye doing outside, lad?" his father asked, the familiar lilt of his brogue coloring his words. "Did you want to explore this splendid day so early?" his rich voice boomed out in laughter both over the nearby lake and across Pádraig's aching head. "Well, that's just grand! Your mum and I, well, you've looked right shattered the past while... Thought to be dragging ye to Rizniak and his potions, if ye weren't better... but seeing as ye wished to be mated to the land. Well, bless ye both."

"Lay off, Da!" came the angry response.

His father's face soured. "Ye'll be respectin' your Da, boyo..." he intoned gruffly, but soon his face cleared into one of concern. "What's got yer knickers in a twist, son?" he inquired. "On the outs with Sam, again."

"No, Da..." he groaned. "Not resting well. Think something is going around."

"Aye, that dose is goin' round, but well, ye look a bit shook..." he said looking him over. "Aren't ye going to that show with yer mate, Jackson tonight? Better rise above it."

"Yea, Jackson & Sandy like a band named, 'Perwadjet' or some nonsense." he grumbled still rubbing at his head at temples to try and clear the fog. "Some sort of electronica band... not really my thing, but it's his day so his choice. Sandy's father got us backstage passes too; she wants to surprise Jackson."

"That's right nice of them. Does she fancy Jackson?" he inquired with a grin.

"No, actually she fancies Sam, " Pádraig laughed painfully still working through whatever was going on with this head. Deciding he no longer needed to be laying on the ground, he righted himself and almost fell back down in the effort. "...but he's been so wrapped up in getting anyone to notice him that he hasn't noticed her literally flinging herself at him; The glunterpeck. No idea what's wrong with him lately."

"Not the smartest person, is he?" came the mock tones of Sam's brogue. "I'll just wallop him with me shillelagh until he gets the bloody message."

"Well, if that's how you roll, I'll let Linda know... or was it Vanessa?" replied Pádraig in his much more natural and authentic tone.

"Man, fuck those bitches. They've gotten fat anyway." Sam said bitterly waving away the comment. His retort was met with a sharp whack upside his head by Pádraig's father.

Sam whirled like he was going to strike back and instantly regretted it when he saw who it was. He knew he wouldn't win that fight... not that he would ever try.

Séamus Finnegan was not as tall as Pádraig and he was also leaner than his son, but he was still much bigger than Sam and infinitely stronger. Pádraig's sister, Oina, had told Sam that she had heard some talk about their father's associations back in Ireland before he became an artist in America; A faction called 'Óglaigh na hÉireann'. When Sam had no reaction to the name and sputtered trying to repeat it, she rolled her eyes and slowly spelled out, "I.R.A." True, he had been flirting with her at the time, but he believed her. Something about the man always made him uneasy.

"Sam, you've been comin' here long enough to know that we don't tolerate that kind of guff." Mr. Finnegan said, speaking slowly as to ensure that his words would be understood even by a young and surprisingly dim upstart as he saw his son's friend to be. He held his cane length-wise with the knob pointed in Sam's face. "Ye have a shine of luck to ye that neither the Missus nor me daughters heard ye or ye would've felt me shillelagh, hard and proper." Staring intensely into Sam's eyes as though he would dare to defy him, Mr. Finnegan continued making sure to enunciate each word clearly. "We respect people here, boyo, especially women..."

Looking properly chastised and slightly terrified, Sam sulked and looked at the ground. "Sorry, Mr. Finnegan, umm, sir..."

Mr. Finnegan's eyes softened and lightened as they returned to his son, as he rested on his cane. "When yer done, lad, yer mother could use some help in the kitchen and ye have a few chores before tonight." his father's voice had returned to its usual light tone as well.

"Aw, sure look it." Pádraig responded.

At that, his father tipped his cane like one would a hat and returned to the house.

Pádraig nodded to his father and set about his chores.

"Your brogue needs almost as much work as your game does, Sam." he said.

"So... Sandra wants a piece?" Sam whispered quietly; making sure Mr. Finnegan was safely inside. "The body on that girl..." It was now Pádraig's turn to smack him upside the head, but Sam shrugged it off.

"The Sidhe know why too... You never learn. Keep acting like that and even she will lose all interest... and sadly, that's more than you deserve." Pádraig replied while gathering up wood from the yard. "Also, you really don't want the oul' fella hitting you with that thing. It hurts." he said looking up at the house.

"Will you help me get her?" his friend begged.

"She's my friend and you're a mangy coxcomb Pádraig laughed; still moving about the yard, he pulled a cord of large logs from the pile and readied them to be split. "Why would I do that?"

"C'mon, Irish... " Sam pleaded. "You know we work better as a matched set."

Pádraig stopped and crooked his eyebrow at Sam.

"Don't you want to see your friends happy?" Sam attempted as his last resort knowing how Pádraig felt about friendships.

"Bollocks..." Pádraig sighed. "Fine, I won't get in the way. Best I can do." he said, readying a large woodcutting axe.

Sam perked up at this. He expected to win his old friend over, but not as easily as that.

"... but Spirits help ye, if you hurt her..." Pádraig said in a voice that was losing its playfulness and becoming very matter-of-fact. His brogue announcing itself strongly. "...and/or start treating her like you've treated the others before when ye didn't get your way. Well..." He breathed out gruffly and split the large log perfectly in twain. "One has to draw the line somewhere." He spun the axe in short arc and smirked mirthlessly at Sam.

Sam seemed to get the message. This was no idle threat and he didn't wish to see the giant turn into an ogre. Guttural sounds were all that came to Sam's mind and even they came out stuttered. "Hhhoo... ddd...or."

"Good." Pádraig smiled showing his teeth. "Now head out. Have to finish all this." he said, waving to the yard that was covered in sticks and branches that the old oak loved to drop across the lawn.

Sam left quickly without another uttered phrase or thought.