#( Elias || thread )

[paracosmicessence]

i would like to hear TMA tumblr’s thoughts on elias listening to will wood lol

[xxcrossroadsxx]

Mahoyome fellows...

[morendodifame]

he was rather glad that they were sailing once again, he never did enjoy the downtime season, even if everybody else seemed to look forward to the calm before the storm. the man made his way through the cruise ship, studying the faces of each individual on board. he really ought to place bets on who'd survive the journey, but most of the crew didn't trust that elias wouldn't cheat. his lips twitched as he stopped for a moment, gaze falling on another, " good evening. "

[arcanescholxr]

Continued from here @gunslinginnhogtyin

Elias didn’t let go of the pie, in fact he brought to closer to him like he was a raccoon caught fishing out of the trash can. The mage looked a little worse for wear, his hair messy and his shirt torn up a bit. He was also somewhat, wet! Enough to leave a slight trail across the floor, even a small puddle where he was standing. Some seaweed stuck to his body, and comedically enough, a starfish stuck on his arm.

“Listen, Cowboy.” Elias hissed. “I had a long day, and I helped make Dwight, so technically I have a right to whatever he makes as a chef tax.” Elias looks down at the pie. “Besides, this is blueberry and it’s my favorite, so screw off.”

[wcrfcres]

CLOSED STARTER ✦ elias baratheon ( @flamedreamt )

it never dawned on him to explain , to reach back to the past he walked away from , or to spare a time of day to hear what dreadful words are tossed in the stormlands . he no longer exists only in whispers , or eyed with scrutiny when he breathes . the lord commander may no longer be a storm , but his legitimization may as well shame all the calamities that danced in his father's region . and in exchange , it made the vastness of westeros seem so small , for a few steps ahead , in the halls of highgarden is a lord who he did not wish to meet , and who he can no longer avoid . ❝ elias... ❞

[parabiota]

For the first time since listening to tma (am on episode 144 rn) I looked up fan art … that is NOT how I see the characters . But I respect it

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Current. PARTIES: Elias @eliaskahtri & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Saol eile SUMMARY: Wynne finds Elias and attempts to help him. WARNINGS: Animal death, medical blood

The last thing Elias remembered was crying about how he was going to die, the dread that pooled in him as he slipped from consciousness. His life had flashed before his eyes, key moments with friends he considered closest dancing in visions around him as he watched himself walk away from the pit, dragged by Regan. But in the end, he couldn’t hold on. His life slipping away like sand through his fingers. Completely unaware of their surroundings, Regan had left Elias out of the way and let out a scream, hoping it would attract someone to help. 

Elias was bleeding, stab wounds to his left shoulder, his upper left arm, and three stabs to his lower abdomen, all bleeding. The man looked pale and grey, as if he had nothing left in him. Despite all of it, he still drew breath. Despite everything, the barely-there pulse and shallow breathing was still there. Elias Kahtri wasn’t dead, not yet. But he would be if he wasn’t treated soon. And fast.

_____

They couldn’t manage it, hiding in the clinic attic and waiting for the evening to come. It couldn’t come quick enough, this moment of escape that seemed more far away the closer it came. Until then Wynne tried to practice patience. They played some Animal Crossing (which was sweet, but made them think of the small town they lived in and how they missed ‘their’ villagers) and abandoned the attic. As it got closer and closer to the end of the day and Elias remained absent, though, they grew worried. They were supposed to be all together — but the clinic remained empty and quiet. No Elias, no Regan, no Nora. No notifications on their phone. They felt something harden in their stomach as they looked at their and Elias’ belongings and figured it was time to go look for their friends and inform them it was time.

So they ventured out. The aos sí was covered in a heavy cloak of what Wynne could only describe as grief. The wailing women paid little attention to them as they all moved around in dark clothes, some faces hidden behind dark veils. They weren’t sure what Worm Remembrance Day entailed, but they had expected it to be a more happy occasion as remembering worms seemed like a good thing. The banshees seemed to be in a state of mourning, though. They could not help but take it as a bad omen as they continued slipping through cobbled streets and alleyways.

But even though they had thought the atmosphere of grief a bad omen, they hadn’t expected to find Elias like this. Near that pit of no-good tar, covered in his own blood and injuries, a pale shadow of himself. When their eyes fell on the image straight out of a horror movie they’d never watch, they let out a strangled noise. They were supposed to leave tonight. Safely and all in one piece, but here Elias was, looking more dead alive. Wynne looked over their shoulder and rushed over, crouching at their friend’s side. “Elias? Elias — hey, can you – can you stand? We should —” Eyes flicked to the tar pit in the distance. Someone was screaming and they felt their ears buzz with the sound. “Elias can you hear me?”

_____

Elias’s shirt had been removed and pressed against the wound on his lower abdomen, but he was no longer conscious. He was pale and almost gray from the blood loss, face confronted in pain. This was it, wasn’t it? This was where he died. Overseas in Ireland without a way to contact his family one last time. No, he couldn’t. His eyelids fluttered as he heard a familiar voice calling his name. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but it was too much effort to do so. He was being asked if he could walk. He couldn’t even speak, let alone move his body. He’d been through so much, but the words that Marcus had told him echoed in his mind. “Even if you’re at death's door, don’t break your resolve.” He had to keep going. He thought of his sister, how she’d be devastated to lose him, even if she was in London. He thought of his parents, who called every other day to check on him, and how he’d had to continue to lie to them about where he was, what he was doing. 

He had to remember that giving up wasn’t going to just affect him, but the people around him that mattered to him. So with that in mind, he let out a cry of pain as he forced himself onto his knees, wavering as he wanted so desperately to just curl up and sleep. He needed rest, but he couldn’t. There was no safe place here. Instead, Elias held out a hand to Wynne for help. He couldn’t do this alone. He was too weak. 

_____

Wynne had seen blood before. They had slit a rooster’s throat and watched it bleed out. There had been the lambs and other animals laid on the altar to bleed, red mixing with fur or bristles. There had been Jac, laid down and bled out as the ultimate sacrifice. There was Iwan, bleeding out in their dreams. There was all that blood back in the barn. They had seen blood before, but they’d never get used to the sight of it in large quantities. 

Their hands trembled as they took stock of the situation. A trail of blood leading up to the tar pit, a mush of shirt pressed against what seemed like another wound. The scream continued, in that tar pit, and they were afraid it would come closer — but it seemed it wasn’t. That was good. They watched with wide eyes as Elias was trying to get up and their hands trembled, not sure where to support him.

He extended a hand and they took it, placing their other hand under his armpit. They used all their strength (which was not totally insignificant) to pull Elias to his feet and then turned 180 degrees so they were aligned with him. They draped his hand over their shoulder and held onto it, then took hold of his side. His tallness had been a thing of awe before, but now it was quite a bother. “Okay, we should go, to the … to the clinic.” There were things to help him there. They swallowed thickly and tried one step. “Can you … can you manage?”

_____

Every step was like stepping on knives. Every step felt as if he were trying to make his way through hardening concrete. His vision was tunneling again, and Elias knew that he didn’t have long before he’d be completely useless to Wynne. “Trying.” He forced out, voice hoarse and mangled. He couldn’t talk, he had to conserve what little energy he had to make it to the clinic. It felt like years, the walk to the clinic. It felt like a great trek, like he was walking up mount doom to throw the ring into the volcano. This was his Mordor. And dammit, if Frodo could do it, then so could he. 

Finally, they’d made it to the clinic, and everything Elias was using to get himself there with Wynne’s aid left of him. The second he’d reached inside, his body collapsed as he went unconscious once again, the pain too great for him to keep holding on. The blood loss and the pain culminated into a hellish existence, and all Elias wanted to do was sleep. He had to sleep.

_____

They made it. Eventually they made it to the clinic, that so-called safe haven where Regan had offered them shelter. Wynne grew winded but it was nothing compared to what they imagined Elias to be feeling and so they powered through. Teeth grit, eyes forward, breaths inhaled and exhaled with a steady rhythm. Wasn’t it always easiest for them to exist when they were being relied on, anyway? When there was someone look at them for a purpose. Now they had a purpose and it was to get Elias away from the banshees roaming around.

They made it and Elias fell down, eyes fluttering up but not seeing anything. They let out a mangled sound and looked outside, hoping the sound of the large man falling down hadn’t alerted any of the banshees. They spent a good minute barring the door and then rushed over to Elias, turning him on his back and taking a closer look at what had been done to him. Done to him. Someone had done this to him and left him there and Wynne had no idea how to solve this.

Their hands trembled again and they scrambled for the fallen t-shirt, pressing it against the gushing wound again. In their mind it was Padrig who reminded them to be calm. To be calm is essential. And it was. It was. They breathed in and out and got up, eyes scanning around the room. This was a clinic. There were bandages. There were things to clean wounds, there had to be. Dr Kavanagh was a good doctor. She had made Cass better when she’d been hurt, so she would have the stuff. She had to have the stuff.

There were books with things like First Aid: what to do in emergencies! on them, but also books titled First Aid: how to preserve bones in case of fracture and Worm First Aid, which made them worry maybe they weren’t reliable. So they pulled out their phone and Googled ‘what to do with stab wounds’.

Wikihow gave a to do list. That was good. Wynne tried to read it while gathering supplies. One: Survey the area. They had done that already, so that was good. Two: Call for emergency help immediately. That was not an option. They did not know the Irish number to 911 and there was no way they would be able to get here on time and also they would probably also be stabbed. Three: Lay the person down or get them to sit. Okay! That was also done. Wynne scrolled a little further, past the picture of someone on their back with blood everywhere. Elias looked like that, so it was definitely a stab wound.

They hit the section about ‘Attending the stab wound’, which was where they had to be. Wynne searched for disposable gloves because those were needed. Regan definitely had those and soon enough they found them, blue gloves peeled over their fingers. They then went over what WikiHow called ‘ABC’s’, rushing over to Elias to check if he was breathing and also pumping blood. He definitely was. There was a pool of blood spreading onto the ground below him. WikiHow told them to take off the clothes (already done) and to take out the knife (already done) and to stop the bleeding (definitely not done).

They speed-read through some of the article, gathering the supplies it told them they needed. Clean towels and bandages, something to disinfect the wounds, dressings and something called a ‘suture kit’. They wobbled back to Elias with their tower of supplies, changed their gloves once again because they were afraid they had gathered some kind of banshee dirt and knelt down.

There was a short moment where the air froze, where they looked at everything in front of them and wanted to do nothing but burst into tears. But there was Regan’s voice, too, telling them to demand better. They demanded better than Elias succumbing to wounds in a banshee clinic. And so Wynne got to work. They wrapped one towel tightly around Elias’ arm and then another around his shoulder, trying to give more pressure as they focused on the main problem. His gut. They peeled away the shirt, blood clinging and stringing away from it and they tried not to worry about all the blood he was losing. They tried to be single minded. To remember their purpose. Wynne was a person with a purpose. Once they were destined to die to save their community and today they had to try and save Elias by walking through the surgical fire.

So they tried. They cleaned the wound and kept their tears in their eyes. They Googled how to pack a wound because they didn’t understood what it meant and then did that, lips trembling but their eyes still dry. Calm, as not only Padrig demanded them to be, but the situation did too. They put down a dressing that fit once the wound was packed, taping it extra because they weren’t sure it was good enough. They breathed in. Out. In. And moved onto the arm. Then the shoulder.

And as they breathed Elias breathed too and as long as he did, Wynne would not tip over the edge. Even if blood covered their knees and hands and face, even if they wanted nothing but to howl and cry. When they spoke to him again after what felt like an eternity their voice was a whisper. “I’m sorry.” For what, they weren’t sure. Perhaps for not being better at this. For this being all there was. For having given in to this idea, to this journey to Ireland. For not having stopped whatever this was. “Please.” In that case, they were sure what they were begging for. A miracle.

_____

After Wynne had attended to Elias’s wounds, time passed. He still drew breath, but that was the extent of it. He was pale and unmoving with a contorted expression of pain on his face. While his body pleaded for death, for release from the pain. But it never came. Instead, the pain continued in the dreamless, fitful rest. Seconds turned to minutes turned to hours. When Elias’s eyes fought to open, it was dark. He couldn’t get himself to open his eyes. He was so groggy that it felt as if he were in a fog. Then, he finally opened his eyes. The pain was excruciating, but he was alive. He’d made it. “Wynne?” He croaked out, noticing them sitting nearby. 

“I should be dead.” He decided aloud, brows pinching together in confusion. They already felt a need to close their eyes again, lids heavy. “Regan…” he tried to say, the words becoming more and more hard to get out. “Grandmother. Tortured.” he couldn’t continue speaking. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to go back to the land of sleep. A dreamless, fitful slumber to repair the damage that had been done. “‘M sorry.” He forced out, eyes still closed. 

_____

Once they thought they’d done everything they good they peeled off their gloves, disposed of them in a tiny, bloody heap on the floor and pulled their knees up to their chin. Wynne rocked back and forth, a tear breaking through a smudge of blood on their face as they stared at Elias. This should be when they texted Teddy or Emilio, to tell them that they had to come, no matter the cost — or that maybe they should forget about them. This should be where they ran out and grabbed Nora and ran to the edge of this place and on and on and on and fulfilled their promise to Emilio.

But they remained rocking back and forth, staring at Elias and willing him to open his eyes. They had a duty and a purpose and this time they would not leave before it was fulfilled. When he finally did stir a sound of relief (that sounded a lot like a sob) was pushed from their throat. “Elias,” they said, moving over on all fours. He said Regan’s name and their stomach sank — was she hurt too? Was she bleeding out elsewhere? But then he tacked on the word grandmother, and it made a little more sense. “Tell me later, okay? You can tell me some other day. You can – when you feel better.” When, not if. “It’s okay. Just stay — just stay with me, okay?” They pulled back the blanket they had put over him, seeing that the dressings still looked considerably white and pulled it back to his chin. “Don’t be sorry.”

_____

Forcing a tight smile, Elias looked up at Wynne. “Make a good nurse,” he mumbled through waves of sleep. He was grateful that Wynne had been there, that Wynne had saved his life. He didn’t know how they did it, but they did. “Thanks.” He forced out, giving a pained half smile before closing his eyes again, sleep threatening to take him once more. He was just so tired. Everything was exhausting right now. 

He was relieved when Wynne bid him not to talk about it, and he nodded his head once, then winced at the pull of the muscles around his shoulders. He never really paid attention to how much pain he could cause from such a simple motion. “‘M not going anywhere.” He reassured Wynne, cracking open an eye to give a wry smile. “‘M a stubborn motherfucker.” The swear came easier from his lips, something he was hesitant with in the past.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion, as if time wasn’t moving correctly. What should have been a minute felt like an hour to him. He wanted to find Regan, he wanted to help. But if he tried to do anything, he’d be a burden and nothing more. “Gonna rest now.” He decided, eye closing once more as he let sleep claim him once again.

_____

Protherians weren’t healers. They never had to be with the demon’s blessing. It was not up to doctors or surgeons to keep someone in good health, but their community and the unknown they revered. So they didn’t know much about these things. But they’d seen the nurses and doctors at the hospital, had seen how they washed their hands before touching Wynne’s injury, how they had patched it up.

They didn’t really know if they did a good job, though. In the hospital they’d gotten blood transfusions but they couldn’t do that here. All they had was their amateur hands and their desperate determination to not see someone die. Elias called them a good nurse. They didn’t answer his compliment by pointing out they were not good enough. They just looked at him. “I am glad you are stubborn.” For once they were. Everyone’s stubbornness had made them feel lost and angry these past days but they felt grateful now. 

He seemed out of it, though. As if he was tethered to another place as well as this plane of existence. Maybe with his blood some of him had gone. “Okay. Okay. I’ll stay here. No one’s coming. Just rest — and next time —” They inhaled. “Next time you see me you’re drinking water.” Hydration was always good. Wynne rested their forehead against their knees as Elias dozed off once more. 

Wynne did not sleep that night. In stead, they got one of the cots from upstairs down with an amount of noise that made their stomach sound. They got Elias on there in a way they’d prefer not to retell to him once he was properly conscious again. They scrubbed the floors with soapy water that turned an ugly shade of pink, then scrubbed their hands and nails until the blood was mostly gone. They gave Elias water. They checked his dressings. They kept him warm. They took their clothes off, balled them up and threw them away and changed into something not stained with the blood of their friend. They waited for something, anything. For Nora, for Regan, for the courage to reach out to someone back at home. They pulled their knees up to their chin, leaned against the cot and fell asleep after sunrise to the rhythm of Elias’ continued breathing.

[fragmentedink]

𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜:

Name: Nayeli Pérez

Age: 50 - 75

Species: Witch

Abilities: Raw Magic, Herbalism

Occupation: Waitress, Mother

@achaotichuman @autumnruby @sonics-atelier @lux-scriptum @livvywrites

[theknifeinyou]

@softkillins asked: ❝  stop saying i’m jealous.  i’m not—  i just.  i don’t like having to share. ❞ ( from elias!! )

"Who says that you're sharing? People are talking to me because I'm here for you, I thought the whole point was to get your name out there more and get noticed?" Amelia asked, frowning because she hadn't meant to upset him. "You're acting like a jealous boyfriend and it's really starting to scare me. You're making us both look really bad Elias."

[emotionlcss]

﹝closed starter ⇾ @lunarrscribbles​ ﹞

elias wasn’t used to having to keep his hands to himself, ever since the two of them had moved away and basically started this life far away from their parents he hadn’t ever had to limit himself. so this week had been torture, sneaking around like when they were younger, and having to resist the urge to pull the blonde against ever surface like he’d wanted to. today was no different as they were walking around the theme park, something their mother had thought would be fun, inviting most of the family and making it nearly impossible to find any real alone time. elias had managed to sneak away from the group, telling them he was going in search of a beverage, but really  he’d just wanted to get away from everyone for a little bit. that was when he’d spotted her trailing behind everyone. ❝ hey, c’mere.. ❞ the male spoke as he was reaching out, taking the girl by her arm as he was pulling her against the building behind everyone else, his hand already  moving down her body, not stopping until it was rested against her hip. ❝ do you know how hard it is for me not to pin you against this wall right now? did you purposely wear the tightest shirt you  could find, today? ❞ the male muttered, his gaze wandering over her body, tongue coming out to lick along his bottom lip. ❝ fuck, you look so good. ❞ 

[tormxntum]

CLOSED STARTER for @thenxghtwemxt

Cailean & Elias

Cailean could feel eyes lingering on them as they walked through the crowd, people parting to avoid getting in their way. They could already imagine the things that must be running through their minds: who is that? Are they one of the forgotten princes or just a commoner? The whispering around them didn't cease as they picked up a goblet brimful of red wine. 'Aren't you a pretty thing?' An old woman had seemingly summoned right beside him without being noticed said with a shrill voice. 'You're with the Scottish crown, aren't you? My daughter she-' The woman's voice melted with the other patrons' voices when they noticed a set of blonde curls between the crowd. At first, they refused to believe it was him, but there was no denying it. 

It was him, the King of Germany. He was standing surrounded by people who seemingly adored him. With one swing of their drink, Cailean finished half of the wine, their eyes never leaving the man he had once known. How long has it been since they last saw each other? It was before he became the king before they became the commanding officer, it was before… everything. He has not changed, not really, yet everything has changed about him. He was no longer his friend; he was one of them. 'Don't you agree?' The woman's voice seemed to startle them from their thoughts. Should they go to him or run? It seemed as if their body had taken charge before their brain managed to catch up with them, and before they knew it, they were already standing behind the king. "Your majesty." Those two little words, almost sounded like a curse coming from Cailean's mouth.

[morendodifame]

he made his way around the room with a frown, watching as the police and other emergency services left the building, leaving behind a few stray officers. none of which favoured him or his position in this town. one of them strode forward, a glare on her face, although at this point, elias was beginning to think it was permanent. " officer tonner, " he hummed softly, she immediately demanded to know why he'd be here. elias smirked, " I'm treasurer of this school, this is my business. I think we can get it all cleared up, don't want to startle the students further. " he watched with his ever present smile as the police woman slipped out of the room, mumbling something about wiping the smug smile off his face. he turned, sighing softly, " my, my, she does have a temper. "

[arcanescholxr]

Continued from here

@gunslinginnhogtyin

One could say that Elias was a mooch and a bum. Of course, he’d heavily disagree with that notion. But it’s the truth. The witch would show up at Dwight’s apartment, unannounced, and slip through his unlocked window. Speaking of the window, Elias made it a note to tell Dwight to fix it, it’s probably why many creatures that sought to either kill or kidnap him have been able to get inside. But Elias is no danger so he should still be allowed to sneak through the window.

Elias would stay for a week or so, bumming around Dwight’s apartment until he was off again at the next heist. This where he comes across as a couch bum, and Elias would say it’s simply not true. Dwight’s place wasn’t the only hideout he’d visit. Elias had plenty of caves and abandoned buildings, and when he was tired of them, he had plentiful of gold to rent a room at a hotel or tavern. Dwight’s apartment was just more convenient.

So when Elias hears footsteps thundering for him and he looks up to see a cowboy, the beating starts. The witch let out a series of ‘ow!’s and ‘oof’s until he managed to scrambled his way in.

Elias keeps glaring as Butch tries to smooth over a terrible first impression with a handshake. At least he knows which one to beat. With a flick of his wrist, he levitates a rolled up newspaper and whacks the cowboy on the nose with it. Maybe twice for good measure, or revenge.

“I’m Elias. Dwight’s father.” The witch grunts, still giving the cowboy a rather dirty look. The wolf sniffs at Butch’s boots, eyeing him carefully.

After introductions are out of the way, Elias strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place and digs through the fridge.

“Butch, huh?” Elias looks over his shoulder. “What’s with the get up? You going to some anime convention?” The witch pulls out a Tupperware container with Dwight’s name written on it with a post it note. Which Elias tears off and forms into a ball before flicking it at Butch. How mature Elias! The witch begins to dig into what was supposed to be Dwight’s lunch as he keeps eyeing the cowboy.

“And you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing in here?”

[thursdaygrl]

closed starter for @softdrabbles

elias had been staring at the bottle of red wine for far too long. the pretty note tied around the neck with ribbon beckoned them to inspect it, to give in and type the number into their phone. usually they wouldn't hesitate like this, if the cues were there, but they didn't want to make a misstep with charlotte. even if sending them a bottle of wine and her number was relatively forward. tapping their fingernails against the table, they rolled their eyes, reaching into their jean pocket to fish out their phone finally. it was a swift roll downhill from there, the number typed and before they knew it they were listening to the ring of the phone, staring down at the screen as they pressed the loudspeaker button. elias was almost in a trance until the voice on the other end answered and they took a second to regain composure before they responded. "hey. uh, it's elias. y'know, just in case you're in the habit of giving your number out with bottles of wine regularly." they chuckled. "any chance you're up to dinner? maybe even splitting this bottle of red, after?"

[moondustlings]

continued from here | @thursdaygrl

why couldn't luck be on her side and elias get a sudden case of not being able to hear? was it too much to ask? "i— i might have," she pushed out, mouth twisting from one way to another as she fought with herself for not saying too much. again. just being near them is making her flustered, as well as bringing up the things that were done in her dreams and lindy cleared her throat. "it was a very flattering dream but at the end of the day it was just a dream and i've already said too much so i think you should go." realizing that they were in fact in public, she amended her words: "or i should go."

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: Elias @eliaskahtri and Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: A pub in Drogheda SUMMARY: Elias and Wynne have not had much luck trying to find Saol Eile, but at a random pub they find a man who knows quite a bit about the women in the Moors. CONTENT WARNINGS: None.

Elias had only been on one international flight before, and that was to visit his sister after she’d moved to London. There had been low stakes with that. He was just visiting, going to Ireland? This felt like a mission. No, a quest! He was on his first ever quest to rescue Regan from Saol Eile. He’d spent the flight on edge. He’d tried to read and nap, but ultimately, he always kept thinking back to something terrible that had happened to Regan. Their last interaction had been bittersweet– they had hugged. She had actually hugged him. He hadn’t been left to the worms. He had been embraced. He’d said the truth of how he felt about her, that he’d go to the end of the earth for her. She’d still left. She had to. It was about duty. But she’d made such progress just to shove herself back into that world that wanted to mold her to be the perfect banshee. 

Elias shook his head, returning to the present in the back of a cab headed for a local pub. Wynne and he had been searching for a lead in Dublin, but nothing was working. After striking out for what felt like the millionth time, Elias suggested they try a small town outside Dublin. “Take us to your favorite pub!” Elias had told the driver, who simply shrugged and began driving them to a pub in Drogheda. He looked to Wynne, shrugging his shoulders. It was better than nothing, and they needed to get food in them. They couldn’t keep searching and not take care of their basic needs, even though Elias desperately wanted to keep looking for Regan. 

When they’d reached their destination, Elias paid the cab fare and exited the cab, waiting for Wynne before he pushed the door open to the pub. It wasn’t that crowded, as it was early in the day, and most people didn’t start drinking until at least 5. Well, he didn’t know how true that was for Ireland. Something caught his eye, though. A small, old man was sitting in the corner booth surrounded by books and newspaper clippings. He wore large wireframe glasses that made his eyes appear comically large. He had a wisp of white hair on the top of his head and a thick wool sweater. Elias looked to Wynne, eyes widening. “Come on, he’s the stereotype of the perfect Irishman! We’ve got to talk to him!” He whispered to Wynne before turning around to the bartender with a grin.

“Hello! We’ll take another pint for the man in the corner.” He told the man, who grunted and poured him a beer from the tap. “Careful with that one. He’ll talk your ears off about the folk.” Elias’s eyes widened, looking over to Wynne with a knowing look. They finally had a lead. As the bartender handed the drink, Elias snatched it up and gave the man a thankful nod before hightailing it over to the man in the corner. 

They felt like they were dreaming. All of this felt surreal, as if their mind was still stuck in Maine and none of the steps they took on Irish soil were real. Wynne was glad to have Elias on their side, at least — he seemed to know a little better what they were doing while they were still trying to process having been on a plane. They felt more than out of their depth here, but they had a purpose. And with purpose, Wynne Hughes always managed to get quite far.

Besides, they owed it to Regan to help her out. She’d come so willingly to their own commune, aiding them without much question even if they’d turned out to not be like her. But there were similarities, weren’t there? There had to have been, for this kind of confusion to have risen. Something about Wynne’s home had resonated with Regan, and that combined with Nora’s messages and everything else the banshee had told them was ground for worry. Ground for a returned favor, a determination to extend a helping hand. And then there was Nora, stuck in there as an outsider, and it was not just because they knew that the bugbear would help them out that they were coming for her. They were because it was what friends did, irregardless of such things.

They left the cab with wide eyes, looking at the man who’d driven them as if he was an alien. Maybe this wasn’t a dream. Maybe this just was another planet. They’d traveled through the air to get here, after all. Elias seemed to be more at ease, though, which made them follow him with a little confidence into the pub. They’d read online that Ireland had great pubs with great food and a lot of beers, but their attention wasn’t directed at the menu as they entered. In stead they looked at the man in the pub Elias had pointed at. They were quiet, but nodded, and felt a little hint of thrill pulse through their body at the prospect of someone being knowledgeable. “Thanks!,” they piped up to the bartender, before cursing themself for saying that exact word.

The two of them sat down across the stranger and Wynne watched Elias slide the glass towards him. “Hi, good afternoon. We heard you’re a real local?” They thought for a moment about how to best approach it. “We’re – um, we’re here on a hiking trip and we want to find all the best spots to go. The ones you might not find on the world wide web.” They crossed their legs. “Like … maybe more obscure?”

The stranger seemed satisfied with his offering and took a long gulp from his glass before answering, “Honeymoonin’, then?” 

Wynne shook their head fervently. “Just friends.”

He laughed. “Sure, hen. But yer at the right address with me, yer at the right address here. Better than Dublin or Cork out there, that’s fer feckin’ sure. What kinda obscure thing are you thinkin’ of, then?”

As the old man questioned their relationship to each other, Elias shook his head alongside Wynne, glad that they were able to get the words out before he was. Elias placed down the pint in front of the man, and decided to get straight to the point. “Listen, what we’re looking for, it’s not what the average American tourist would look for.” Elias narrowed his eyes, trying to get the man to see his point. “Something more…” he trailed off, tilting his head back and forth as he searched for the words. “Mystical.” His eyes glinted with mischief, hoping he was getting his point across to the man. 

Elias glanced at the books and newspaper clippings surrounding the man, then decided to be honest with him. “Look, we’re kind of on a rescue mission.” He said, giving a nervous glance over to Wynne, they would undoubtedly not like how honest he was being with this guy. The newspaper clippings were all reports of faeries and the fae folk in the area, the books were on different types of fae and fae encounters and how to defend oneself. Elias blinked. Had they just hit a gold mine? Was this guy a warden or just a really enthusiastic mirror of Elias? 

“Holy shit.” Elias spoke, pointing to the newspaper clippings, then back at the man. “This. This is exactly what we’re looking for.” He spoke, tapping his finger at one of them. “These fae, we’re looking for one of their groups.” He explained, not wanting to get too technical. “They have our friend, and it’s important to us that we get there so we can save her.” After spending all day searching, Elias was desperate, and this guy just happened to have the answers? It was either divine intervention or one hell of a trap. 

The man stared down at the drink, then over at Elias, a suspicious gaze flitting across his eyes. “So ye two know ‘bout the folk, hm?” The man slowly nodded, then gestured for the two to sit across from him. Elias, feeling a sense of relief, slid into the booth. “The name’s Sheamus.” The old man introduced, looking between the two of them. “What’s happened to this friend o’ yers?”

They had asked Emilio for some advice about these kind of things, as they trusted his expertise and he was good at these things. It was how he made money, after all. As Elias went and offered plenty of details and honesty, Wynne squirmed a little in their seat. Shouldn’t they be more subtle? Couldn’t this raise red flags with the exact people that had dug their claws into Regan’s flesh? Keep your cards close, Emilio had said. Elias had spread them all on the table.

But to argue with him would be foolish, would only cause more issues. They kept their eyes wide and blinking, impressionable and naive. That too Emilio had told them: that they should let people underestimate them. Maybe they were underestimating Elias too, though, because the Irishman gave quite a detailed and helpful reply. Their eyes were glued to an article as the other two spoke, skimming over the words and strange location names, foreign and unreal to them. It still felt like a dream.

Wynne sat down. “Yes, we know about them,” they said, nodding, “The good and bad.” They weren’t sure if Sheamus was empathetic or not towards fae. They tucked their feet under their chair, sat perfectly upright. “I’m Alys. It’s nice to meet you.” Another tip from Emilio. Axis investigations had gone international. They racked their brain for a moment before continuing, “She got caught up with a few of them. A rather private kind … it’s hard to find their community. But they intend to harm her.” Wynne swallowed, not sure if they were talking about Nora or Regan or both. “They liked bones, there.”

The man guffawed, took a long pull of his drink as if he needed it if he was going to venture into all of this, “Best off leaving those women alone,” he muttered, somewhat grave. “Don’t come back from ‘em. Bad luck, those. Hear one of ‘em scream and it’s a sentence.” They blinked at him, unconvinced. They hadn’t lied. They did think Regan’s family wanted to harm her, just as theirs had wanted to harm them. “But you gotta hear ‘em scream to get to ‘em, so ya know. You sure you want to get into all this? Might be yer friend’s already fecked.”

Where Wynne was cautious and gave a fake name, Elias was desperate. He was willing to risk everything if it meant finding Regan again. And this man, he knew something. He watched as the man seemed to know exactly what Wynne was talking about by the small amount of information he gave, mentioning the banshee’s scream. He knew. He knew. Elias leaned forward, eyes searching desperately for an answer that could be hidden on Sheamus’s face. 

“My name is Elias,” he answered truthfully. “I know they’re dangerous, but she’s the best friend I’ve ever had. She saved me when everyone else saw me as a joke.” He spoke, eyes boring into Sheamus’s wary gaze. “Please, you’re the only lead we’ve had, we’ve been all across Ireland searching.” 

Either Sheamus wanted to be left alone to his pint, or he was taking pity on the desperate look on Elias’s face. He sighed, taking another drink before slamming the glass down and pulling out a map he had folded underneath one of his books. “The washerwomen can be found just past the moors here.” Sheamus tapped the circled location on his map. “No one returns from here, lad.” He warned, eyes serious and hardened. “If ye make this trek, ye may not come back, ye understand?” 

Without thinking about it, Elias nodded his head. If this was too much for Wynne, he would understand. But he had to do this. He wasn’t leaving Regan to be stuck somewhere she didn’t belong. “I understand,” Elias spoke in a low tone. “I told her I’d move mountains for her,” his voice grew soft, eyes glassy. “I intend to keep that promise.” Elias looked over to Wynne, then back to the map. “Can I?” He asked, pulling out his phone. Sheamus let out a weary sigh, then pushed the map over to Elias so he could take a picture. 

Finally, they had a lead.

Elias wore his heart on his sleeve and it was admirable, the way he did it. So sure of his cause and motivations, so concerned about Regan. Wynne blinked at him for a moment, then looked back at Sheamus. Quieter, smaller, less in every regard but just as desperate. If everything in the world was truly about balance, this was something they had to do. Something they owed not only to Regan, but themself.

They watched the map with wide eyes, trying to remember it in full detail. Wynne was ready to gather all the euros they had to pay Sheamus for it, fully forgetting about the camera function their phone had. “Yes,” they said, nodding along with Elias. “We understand. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.” They watched Elias take a picture of the map for a moment before turning their attention back to Sheamus.

“Is there anything else you could tell us about them? About what to expect, what to avoid?” 

Sheamus lifted a finger towards Elias, “He’s gonna stand out there, they don’t get many men around there.” He guffawed. “Don’t think ye would make a convincing lass, anyway.” Wynne squirmed a little, wondering what the banshees would think of them. “Unless yer willing to part with that beard.” 

They let out a nervous laugh. “We will figure something … out.” Maybe Elias could pose as a pending sacrifice, because they did do those, didn’t they? Wynne didn’t like the thought, but they at least had some expertise. “And how about … I know they can make you not see things. Is that something we should worry about?” They thought of Cass and Teagan, their true forms. 

“Aye, like I said. Gotta hear ‘em scream, or so the myth goes. When you hear ‘em and yer watching, you’ll see. Or so I’ve heard.” He looked mournful, as if the person who’d told him that was long gone. It seemed likely. 

“Do you want another drink?” Wynne looked at Elias. “If you don’t mind, maybe we can share a little bite and talk some more.” Food was always a great connector, wasn’t it?

Sheamus had a good point. How was he going to fit in? A hand fled to his beard, eyes widening at the idea of shaving it. “Oh, that’s not happening,” Elias told the pair with wild eyes. “I’ll be a sacrifice; I’ll be a wayward soul that got lost in the Moores, but I’m not shaving my beard off.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice. “Maybe we’ll go separately. That way when I get caught, you won’t get in as much trouble for being there.” He suggested a frown on his face. Dressing up as a girl was out of the question. He wasn’t shaving. “Can banshees see through enchantments? Is there someone that can make me look feminine?” He frowned, realizing how crazy that line of questioning was. “Never mind,” he murmured after seeing the look of Are you kidding me from Sheamus.

At the suggestion of sharing a meal with the pair, Sheamus seemed to sink back a bit. “I ain’ use’ta sharin’ my space with others.” He admitted that all the items they had spread out over the booth served as a deterrent for Elias. “But I’ll tell ye what,” He drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, then motioned for them to sit. “With the time it takes t’get yer food and finish, I’ll tell ye what I know, and in exchange, ye tell me about yer friend.” 

Elias looked to Wynne, silently asking if this was a good idea. After all, they didn’t know what this guy really was. He could be a guy who knew a lot about fae, but what if he was a hunter? It was a gamble, but it wasn’t as if they were staying in Ireland after this. He was almost certain that once they infiltrated this place, the banshees would stop at nothing to see them gone. But with the idea of having another person on Regan’s tail, he wasn’t willing to put her in more danger at their expense.

A sacrifice. Wynne was quiet for a moment, remembered how both Siobhan and Regan had mistaken them as such a thing — a sacrifice for banshees. What were they getting themself into? “I can … I can prepare you for if you want to pretend to be a sacrifice. I know things about that. I … know. And we should split up, that might be best, yes.” What a strange thing to be an expert on. They looked at Sheamus, more certain of their cause: “He’ll be alright. We won’t see him get actually sacrificed.” No more sacrifices. They’d had enough for a lifetime. The thought of it had them so downtrodden that they forgot to laugh at Sheamus’ expression at Elias’ question. Maybe that was for the best.

As the other said he didn’t like to share his space Wynne was ready to nod their head and walk away, but the thought of Dr Kavanagh in trouble kept them where they stood. “Okay. We’ll not intrude too long,” they said solemnly. They almost made a promise, but caught themself. They looked up at Elias. “Some fish and chips? Coddle?” They’d grown familiar with the Irish pub cuisine since they’d arrived. They liked their stew especially. “I’ll get it

Sheamus cleared his throat, “The stew’s gonna treat ye real good. Get that.” 

They gave a decisive nod, eyed the bar and then Elias. “You can tell him about the doctor.” Maybe it was their naivete and general tendency to trust people who were older and seemingly wiser, but they felt they should give Sheamus something. “And I’ll be right back?” Though it was posed as a question, Wynne was off, beelining to the bar to place their order and trusting Elias to not say too much.

As much as Elias wished he could leave the situation and get on with their quest, Elias knew it was better to collect as much information as possible instead of rushing off to the next part of the objective. Wynne was right about that much. He sighed, then scooted into the booth as Wynne walked off to order for the three of them. When they had given the okay to tell Sheamus about Elias, he found that he didn’t know where to start. 

“She’s… naive about the world,” he began as he stared down at his hands. “Didn’t know what emojis were, thinks you’ll run out after you use them a certain amount.” He chuckled, remembering that whole escapade. “She’s extremely smart, I mean, she’s a doctor after all, right?” He finally looked up to Sheamus, who was hanging on his every word. “She wore a coat all summer for some reason, and she’s…” he trailed off, unsure how to continue.

“She’s a sister to me. I’ve never had someone be this close to me before, and I’ll be damned if something happens to her.” He ended by staring straight at Sheamus, who hummed in response before taking another swig from his dark beer. The man seemed satisfied with the information given. “So in other words, she’s an enigma.” He responded with a smirk as Wynne came back over to their booth. 

Wynne ordered three pints of Guinness, two portions of stew and paid. Getting the three glasses to the table where Elias was taking charge of the conversation was a bit of a struggle, but they managed. There was something very strangely free about it, being in a different country because they had chosen for it. Getting dinner for themself and Elias because they had taken initiative without waiting for permission. The circumstances were dire, but there was something about it.

They placed the three glasses down and sat down. Pushing one glass to Elias and another to the Irishman, they blinked at both of them. “Did he tell you?” Sheamus nodded to confirm and Wynne was glad. 

“Said she’s naive, but smart. Close to him,” he summarized. “What ‘bout you?”

They lifted a shoulder, “I agree, she’s clever. Very wise. She offered me guidance when I needed it, helped me out of a tight spot. I want to return the favor.” Wynne sipped their Guinness, still not sure whether they actually liked the drink. They looked at the papers spread between them. “So, um. Go ahead, if you’d like. We’re all ears.” And so, as the line cook worked on their meal, the songs kept playing and the wind outside softly slammed against the windows, Sheamus leaned closer to the table and told the pair all there was to know. A candle flickered and somewhere in a corner, a lad of twenty four won a game of cards while Elias and Wynne finally saw their plans growing concrete.