corcnach

[corcnach]

time frame: post pre-tribunal

who: cathair & open (no cap)

cathair sits in silence at the breakfast table, clad in a cloud of angst that was, at least toward the person who joins him on the opposite side of the table, feigned. light eyes lift from his plate, fingers curl around the handle of his cup, and a hard stare finds itself peering into the other's eyes. "have you come to try and stab me again? in broad daylight? among monarchs and nobility? before i've had chance to properly digest whatever it is that i consume?" the soldier teases monotonously, bringing the cup to his lips. "i warn you, my daughter's got a mean kick, your shins will not survive if the hellion attacks on my behalf..."

[corcnach]

cathair has every intention to stay on the opposite side of the door as a young scottish soldier leaves through it. however, the crashing of inkpot and the clatter of pens catches his attention much more than his own knowledge of what had led cailean into such frustration. "what has the ink pot done to earn your nastiness?" cathair teases, moving forward into cailean's space, the squelch of ink under his boots, unnoticed. "ill timing for the lad to croak. i reckon if more deaths occur under the de alcantara's noses, the heads of other monarchs and the occupiers of their courts will start to turn toward them in suspicion. as for kaiden, i apologize for your loss. i understand that you two were...well, close." from the inside of his jacket, he pulls a stack of letters addressed to cailean, outstretching his hand toward them. crimson speckles on the off-white of envelopes hadn't caught his attention until now, in the dim candle-light, cathair pretends not to notice. "i nicked these from the morgue, i thought you'd like for the contents of such things to be kept quiet."

To: Cailean & Cathair (@succiducus)

“He’s dead?” With their head bowed and fists clenched, Cailean trembled. Was it fear? Anger? “Was it sickness?” The young soldier shook his head once. “No, sir. They’re sayin’ it was murder.” The silence stretched on for a moment longer. “Leave me be.” Once alone, a surge of anger and frustration welled within them, and before they could rein it in, their hand lashed out. Papers, quills, and an old inkpot went flying as they swiped everything off the table. The sound of the inkpot shattering filled the room, and pitch-black ink spread across the stone floor like the night sky. Cailean stood there for a moment, their chest heaving. Were they angry because the man was dead, or were they angry because they had not been the one to take his life? When the door creaked open, Cailean felt their face burn with embarrassment. They hadn’t lashed out like this since they were an unruly child. “Didnae I tell ye to leave me be?” Cailean turned, only to stand face to face with their brother. Their heart sank, and the fire within them quelled. “Cathair…”

[corcnach]

a queen sits alone in her sorrows; he remains hidden in the shadows, light eyes eerily still on her in surveillance. admittedly, cathair was surprised by such an outburst in the jury hall, he hadn't known many monarchs had the ability for violence of that intensity. a chuckle sticks to his throat, he finds himself sitting next winifred without invitation. "on the contrary, ma'am." cathair interjects without pleasantries or titles but the grin on his lips is genuine. "one might say that after such tragic happenings, indulging in the sweeter experiences of existence is noble or adaptive." his grin widens. "you did, after-all, just lose one of your own, i'd say hot cocoa is a far better coping mechanism than drink, wouldn't you agree?"

open starter with: winifred and anyone! location: café do paço time: early evening

Winifred sat, pale-faced aside from some well-placed rouge, her nails bitten down as far as they could go. A cup of cocoa sat in front of her, only a few sips taken, and any heat that it once held had long since disappeared. The idea that a soldier from Cardiff had not only been implicated in the Reckoning, but was assassinated? It was horrible. And that wasn’t even considering those damn letters. Millions of questions raced in her mind as she stared blankly into the courtyard. Was there something she could have done to prevent it? Is it possible her brother was at all attached to Kaiden- or could Kaiden have had something to do with her brother’s death? And at top of her mind: could she, as the ruler of Cardiff, be implicated in any of this? Was there a chance she’d lose her head? Was someone coming for her, and could she suffer the same fate as Carwyn?

Her train of thought was promptly derailed by another sitting next to her. She jumped at the sound and forced out a self-deprecating laugh. “You’ve caught me rather wrapped up in my own thoughts,” she said, clearing her throat and throwing on a more welcoming expression. She lifted the cup of cocoa to her lips, fighting the urge to recoil at its unexpected tepidness. “Feels a bit morbid to be enjoying something so sweet, after such a horrible event. But perhaps we deserve a little sweetness, now more than ever, no?" She hummed to herself and nodded in agreement to her own statement. "I think we deserve it.” Her tone was flirtatious, for some reason. Perhaps it was her shield of choice, tonight. After all, it was hard to talk about “feelings” when the lips were otherwise occupied.

[corcnach]

{sam heughan, 45, cis-male, he/him} We are so glad to see you safe, CATHAIR FERGUSSON of SCOTLAND! It’s dangerous out in the world these days, but I hear that you are NURTURING and STRONG-WILLED enough to handle it. Just don’t let your PROTECTIVENESS bring you down! Stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out you're cooperating with foreign rebels in order to abolish the scottish monarchy

b a s i c s //

birth name: cathair fergusson

birthday: june 13th

occupation: scottish soldier / fergusson clan head assassin

orientation: demiromatic - demisexual

status: married to tbd

languages: scottish gaelic (native), english (native), arabic (fluent), russian (conversational), french (conversational), spanish (intermediate beginner).

character influences: orochimaru (naruto), russell lightbourne (the 100), hap/dr. percy (the o.a), milton brandt/whispers (sense8), elijah mikkaelson (tvd/to/legacies).

tarot card: death

p r o l o g u e // murder tw, torture tw, blood tw

whether the first-born child of alexander fergusson and his wife was created out of love or hate, many would never know. in a home that was neither warm nor cold, he grew up, perhaps, the least privileged of every boy born to them. for fifteen years, he lived and worked simply under his father's guiding hand on a farm of their owning. whispers of rebellion came in and went out, he had never paid much attention then, more worried about the cows and horses in the paddocks and barns and keeping the younger fergussons out of trouble to pay attention to politics. that was until one day when the stuarts took everything from them - including their true identities. the stripping of all that he had known, while uncomfortable, was not what brought strife upon him. no, that would come in the dead of night when his father roused him from his makeshift bed surrounded by a puddle of red-headed children searching for safety and warmth and made him follow him with a knife in hand. his father had announced to many that he was, in fact, the new chief of the fergusson clan but with demanded proof, his father had fallen desperate. at fifteen, he found himself torturing a poor older man for a simple sheet of paper; a birth record, forged, and blood-stained. life felt strange, after that - he went from sleeping on hard ground, surrounded by his younger brothers to soft beds, lavish parties, and forced studies. however, something else changed, something deeper and more complex; he'd learned that people who held power over others could gain what they wished, more so, he learned that violence was the most effective way of persuading those to give him just that.

p r e s e n t d a y //

In whispers among the high courts of europe, africa, and northern asia, the name 'coronach' is a well-kept secret. monarchs in need of a closed mouth; nobles wishing to marry for love; or simply a scorned lover looking for revenge - it is said that, if the price is right, this faceless person will do anything asked of them. many think of them as a ruthless, uncaring man, but the truth would shock them if ever they knew; coronach was a simple man, a warm husband, a doting father, and a protective older brother. while being known as a strong soldier with an offstandish air and a cautious manner, he was the chief of a well-decorated clan inherited from a passionate father, surrounded by thriving siblings raised under his guidance who loved him just as fiercely as he fought for them. though, those in his real life would also look upon him with shock if they ever found out his secret; he would do anything to keep them and their legacy safe, even if it meant that his hands were covered in the blood of many.

c o n n e c t i o n s //

unknown fergusson (spouse) - tbd

cailean fergusson (youngest sibling) - tbd

w a n t e d c o n n e c t i o n s //

spouse (romantic) - cathair's love is quiet. it manifests in protection and secrecy that isn't always well intentioned. many would describe this person as strong for being left to their own devices most of the time or for marrying a man of such a personality as cathair's. outwardly cruel and standoffish, inside their home, when he isn't away, he is a doting father and attentive husband, even if his heart is a bit distant and his hand, strict. their children are 5 & 8 and are starting to ask questions neither of them want to answer. there is tension within their marriage surrounding his job but as long as they sweep it under the rug, their relationship is relatively harmonious.

past/current hires (political) - whether monarchs or civilians, these people are the people who want cathair's sword for purposes of murder, torture, etc. if they pay a good fee, cathair is willing to do whatever they ask of him as long as insurances of his family's safety can be promised.

coronach members/spies/fall guys (political) - these people are those who work under cathair's alias, coronach, so that he can never be made by people who have hired him before. aligned with the scottish rebellion, they are a smaller more ruthless branch and their true loyalties lay with cathair. although their name is scottish in origin, members of this pathway of spies/assassins are of different origins, making the true face of this branch unknown.

[corcnach]

cathair had never been in prison albeit coming close many times. in lands foreign to his own, rules and regulations that did not adhere to his missions were disregarded purposefully. the eldest fergusson was his father's son, after-all - he had a knack for persuading the masses of facts that were truthfully fiction. though unlike him, he ensured nothing could be traced back to his daughter. holding up the stolen keys at eye level, "anything?" the scot questions, his grin widening.

In any other situation Hisashi would have a smart reply, something clever and cutting which made it seem as if he cared about nothing and no one. Not here. Not with all the memories this place evoked.

"I know how fruitless it is." Hisashi said bitterly. "But at least last time I was imprisoned for a crime I had actually committed, following a trial with evidence." He sounded small, "I can't be in here. Not again. Toes be damned. I'll do whatever it takes to get out."

[corcnach]

eyebrows lift; in empathy, his heart finds relief. cathair was a silent observer in his siblings lives; despite acting as their fists or a heavy hand in their youth, he had always set out to be their backbone instead. knowing who they were associated with was easily done by word of mouth or personal introduction, however, knowing their hearts was where he thrived; he worried that cailean would betray him own with the fear that a reckless man had instilled in them. "aye, ma'am, they have good qualities that many would be lucky to know intimately." the brother says. "where did you two meet?"

" well, odd to me — i suppose to other people they are not. " she admitted with a short laugh. aurora smiled as they seemed to relax a bit, no longer thinking she was some sort of threat to him or his daughter. " it's a pleasure to meet you too, " the princess assured, but then — the question took her by surprise, and for a moment she looked puzzled; until she understood what he meant. " oh, heavens no! " aurora exclaimed, " no, no — cailean truly is a dear friend of mine. there is no romance there, i assure you. " aurora nervously laughed, shaking her head. " not that cailean isn't wonderful and i'm sure someone out there is lucky to have them, but our friendship is only that. they were there for me when . . . when things were dark, and i supposed we formed a deep bond because of that. "

aurora didn't suppose. she knew that was the case. they had met when she was at her lowest and they the same —aurora and cailean kept each other going, even when it felt hopeless to. they were the reason aurora's light had not died out.

[corcnach]

inherited from his father and instilled in his younger brothers, resentment ran through their blood. whether it was the same as their father's or different, the emotion would eventually rear its ugly head and wreak havoc in their lives at least once. at first, he'd been under the impression that he was doing them all a favour by teaching them such lessons. however, the more that he aged and saw his father for who he was, with his faults and his good intentions, cathair had come to realize that he'd made a mistake; one that couldn't be undone easily. more a father to them than alexander, the youngest of their clan had taught him more about himself than he'd expected. "ah yes - i've met many of these friends." cathair taunts, wishing to protest the distance between him and his daughter - it falls silent on his lips. "naive french princess by the name of...." he sends a puzzled look in his sibling's direction, waiting for cailean to finish his sentence as a precaution.

It was an impossible task to contain their grin when Cathair mentioned their tactics during their youth. They had been a terror, much like their niece. Perhaps if not for Cathair, they wouldn’t have dared to attempt the mischief they did. Not because he encouraged it, but because Cailean always knew that no matter what, Cathair would never turn his back on them. Because of him, they had the freedom to test their limits and, in turn, their brother’s patience. However, their smile faltered when he mentioned their friend.

To the dismay of the child, Cailean picked her up off their shoulder, and placed her on the ground beside them before fishing out coins from their pocket and handing them to her. “Here ye go, lass. Go and buy us all hot chocolate. We will be right behind ye, and make sure yer da’s is covered in cream and sweetness. He needs to sweeten up his life, don’t ye agree?” Thrilled by her sudden responsibility, the girl took the offered money and ran ahead. “I have been known to make a friend or two,” they told him once she was out of earshot, their words carefully chosen. What friend was he speaking of? At first, the only person who came to mind was the man sharing their bed, Abby… But Cathair knew him, knew of their friendship even if he did not know how deep it ran. It couldn’t be him. “And who is this friend of mine who ye disapprove of?”

[corcnach]

they were where they belonged in the dungeons; powerless; their reputation dwindling - cathair believed it was about time for karma to swiftly kick the french into line for being overly ambitious. cailean would berate him for it later, he supposed, as he walks through the cells simply for entertainment. however, a familiar voice, one that he had first heard in the land of the soloman's piques his curiosity. the rustle of cloth; a sharp intake of breath followed by breathlessness; the thud of body on the ground. the rattle of door keys and a heavily accented albeit whispered 'you're alright, that's it. enjoy your nap' echoes off stone and mud. "oi!" cathair chastises, the vibration of boot on metal sending shivers through him as he appears around the corner into hisashi's view. the soldier leans an arm on the bars, a mischievous grin on his lips that is difficult to see in the dim dungeon candlelight but could be felt. "watch your toes, lad. losing one of 'em will make you wobble like a newborn deer. or i guess, the town drunk."

who: open 0/5

where: the cells

Hisashi needed to get out.

He had too much experience to believe it when he was told this would not last long. Prison had been his home for years. It was a place he had promised himself he would not end up in again. He had thought his father's lands and titles would protect him. What was the use of them if he could end up back here?

He pressed himself up against the bars, calling to a guard's retreating back. "Name a price to let me out! I can barely even speak French! Ask anyone who knows me, they will tell you I have neither the intelligence nor the patience to be involved in any of this!" There was very little he would not offer, few he would not betray, to get himself out of this mess.

As the guard vanished he lashed out, kicking at the bars and swearing at the sharp pain that followed.

[corcnach]

Sam Heughan as Jamie Fraser in OUTLANDER S01E02