#God give me strength to not respond the wiseness not to engage and the block button to know the difference amen 🙏

[marciliedonato]

Mooooooooooooom!!! Phineas and Ferb are recreating the Michelle Visage mcr discourse post on the dash again !!!! 😐😐

[oddnub-eye]

The Eyes of the Wily

Emer is my favorite character in the Ulster Cycle, and I had a very wacky joke theory about Tochmarc Emire, which you can read here. A lot of the other details here that aren't based from Torchmarc Emire are headcanons regarding Emer's family. Obviously, this will not be 100% accurate to the story its mostly based on, but I did try and remain mostly faithful, outside of the things altered to fit the overall nature of this story. That being said, I hope you enjoy.

Also gonna put this under a read more because it turned out to be pretty long.

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Scibar was the oldest of his siblings, by a rather significant margin. He had his father’s dark hair and his mother’s blue eyes. When Scibar was only a lad, his father first told him, “He does not have the eyes of a tricky man. Those are the eyes of a man too hard and too soft at the same time. He shall be raised as a warrior. He may not be a great one, but he shall be one.” Scibar, whether consciously or not, started studying his father’s eyes after that. What did his father have that Scibar did not?

When Fiall was born, Forgall ignored his first daughter. “We’ll marry her off at the first opportunity. With Scibar to inherit the Dun, we need not worry about an unworthy heir inheriting this house.” Scibar’s mother did not respond. Scibar was used to this look from his mother, this look of passivity. As if she was dead to the world around her. Her eyes were not the eyes of his father, or the eyes Scibar saw staring back at him when he gazed into the clear water of a calm river.

Ibor was the next born, and Scibar could swear it was the happiest he’d ever seen his father. “The eyes of a wise man!” Forgall had cheered, “We may have a worthy inheritor to this house yet!” It was not until years later that Scibar realized how casually his father had toyed with the idea of disinheriting him. But, as with all of Forgall’s other children, Ibor ended up disappointing him. Ibor didn’t take to his father’s talk of tricks and plans, cunning and schemes. Ibor preferred to spend his time learning the blade with Scibar, or using his gift with words to sing songs and tales.

Cat was born next and with him came a surprise. Cat was the first child Scibar’s mother was allowed to name. Forgall saw Cat and instantly turned from him in disgust, brazenly telling his mother to name him. Cat’s eyes were the same color as Scibar and their mother’s; blue. The blue of Cat’s eyes shone like a blaze light, completely unlike the colors of the sky Scibar’s eyes invoked. It was to the surprise of no one that Cat took the blade like his eldest brother, showing the most talent and passion for it.

But then, Forgall’s last child was born, another daughter. However, with the birth of this one, tragedy came into the house of Forgall the Wily. Scibar’s mother passed away giving birth to this final child. Forgall, as Scibar expected of him by now, remained distant even here, simply handing this final child off to Scibar to hold before carrying his wife’s body off to prepare for burial. Forgall later named his final daughter Emer. Emer hair was unlike her father or her mother’s; the golden locks of her mother appearing dirty with strands of interwoven browns.

Emer was talented, talented behind even her father’s wildest expectations. In all seven gifts of womanhood, she surpassed Fiall, surpassed even her late mother. Young as she was, her voice was like the gods, and she carried wisdom beyond her years. By her seventh year, she was even teaching the girls surrounding Forgall’s dun.

Scibar didn’t actually remember the day the love of his youngest sister’s life appeared very well. He remembered the basics, sure. The blazing young warrior, with his tri-colored hair and seven pupils, appeared in his chariot. Scibar distinctly remembered laughing trying to watch this small, young boy leap out of the chariot. Despite his intimidating chariot and the talons upon his fingers and toes, he was merely a whelp. He could have only been Emer’s age, and he was certainly small for his age.

Scibar didn’t bother to watch the young love blossom. Ibor did, and Scibar didn’t make much not. Ibor was a poetic soul, the blossoming of love was right up the ally of something he’d want to watch.

Emer skipped into the dun later that day, a silly smile plastered on her face, singing a little song about how she was going to marry Cú Chulainn, how he would fulfill her marriage conditions and she would go to join him in Ulster. Forgall shot up from where he was sitting, saying, “Fiall has not been married yet, you cannot be married. Besides, that boy is too wild, he shall bring about our ruin.”

Scibar had known his father long enough to know that “our ruin” meant “my ruin.” The silly smile fell from Emer’s face and the light retreated from her gray eyes, replaced by a more passive look. No, that wasn’t quite right, Scibar decided. There was...something underneath that passive glare.

That night, Forgall donned the disguise of a gaulish king, telling his children he would deceive Cú Chulainn into a fool’s errand, to keep him from marrying his daughter. Emer was present in the back of the room, and Scibar noticed it once more. That passive glare with something beneath it.

Cú Chulainn arrived the next morning to say his goodbyes with Emer, and she warned Cú Chulainn of her father’s attempts to destroy him. The young hero acknowledged her words, and he set off for Alba.

One week later, Emer innocently asked her father if she could move her room into the dun’s treasury. “You call me your greatest treasure father, may I not sleep surrounded by the others?” The request seemed innocent enough, and Forgall dismissed it as a woman’s vanity. Ibor raised an eyebrow but ignored it otherwise.

A month later, Emer met with her brother’s and convinced them that they should start guarding their parts of Forgall’s three walls separately.

“You are father’s most trusted. It is best not to put all your eggs in one basket, your prowess should not be focused on one wall.”

The logic checked out for the three brothers, although Ibor once again seemed to know something. Scibar didn’t think it was important, so he didn’t bother asking.

Midway through the year, Forgall tried to marry Emer off to a man named Lugaid. Emer rejected the man, speaking of her love for Cú Chulainn. Lugaid backed off, not wanting to experience the wrath of Cú Chulainn.

Cú Chulainn returned from his training, and Forgall sent a guard to keep him from marrying Emer. They kept the Hound at bay for a season, until Cú Chulainn’s anger finally boiled over, and he stormed the dun with his full strength.

Scibar was standing at his post in the walls, within the group of nine men, standing at its center. The young Hound of Ulster descended upon them, and Scibar braced himself for conflict. Scibar almost felt bad, that he’d have to kill the lad who made his sister so happy.

Of course, in the time it took Scibar to think that, the men standing next to Scibar had been felled in one blow. Cú Chulainn leapt away, to the next wall, and then the next. Soon Ibor stumbled towards his brother, unharmed, but deeply, deeply rattled. Scibar walked over to his brother, but Ibor smacked his hand away.

“I’m leaving, brother. I’m going to become a bard.The path of the warrior is not for me.” Ibor slurred out quickly, mind clearly abuzz with thoughts. Cat came next, clutching a shattered spear in his hands, a quiet grin upon his face.

“I blocked a hit.” Was his youngest brother’s only words. Scibar only nodded, looking at the path of warriors who had fallen. Anyone who hadn’t directly engaged Cú Chulainn had lived, but the three brothers had engaged the Hound, so why did they still breathe?

Scibar was knocked out of his thoughts by a shout, and the brother’s turned to see their father’s body crash into the ground, his old bones shattering with the impact. The three pairs of eyes that Forgall had rejected when he first saw them, could now bring themselves to feel nothing at his fate.

Scibar looked up and watched as the Hound of Ulster soared above them, performing a great feat of leaping, Emer in his arms and Fiall clutching to his tiny form. The treasures of Forgall’s dun also were held. Emer was laughing as she soared through the sky in his arms.

Cú Chulainn and Emer were married later that day, after Forgall’s allies had ambushed the couple at the fords between Scenmenn and Banchuing, the young Hound fought off all of them, killing many. Cat would later follow his sister and new brother-in-law to Ulster, with hopes of one day joining the Men of the Red Branch. For now, he settled for joining the boy troop. Ibor followed through on his promise to become a travelling bard, visiting his brother’s and sister every now and then to share his stories. Scibar, however, stayed at the dun of his father, inheriting it.

The dun’s new owner would be lying if he said he didn’t smile when he replaced the bed his father had rejected his children upon with his own.

…

It was a family reunion, a banquet and a feast. Scibar’s family, his sisters and his brothers, surrounded him at the table, drinking and eating merrily. Emer had brought her husband, of course, and she looked so happy laughing next to him as the duo partook in the feastivities. It had been so many years since Scibar had become the owner of this dun…

Ibor leapt onto the table, and decided to sing the tale of how Cú Chulainn had joined their family. Scibar largely toned out of the beginning of the story, he was there for most of it, after all. Until something Ibor said got his attention.

“And our beloved sister told the hero, “No man may travel these plains unless he has gone from Samhain til Imbolc without rest, killed 100 men at each ford between Scenmenn and Banchuing, performed the feat of the Salmon’s Leap while carrying twice his weight and gold, and struck down 3 groups of 9 men with one strike each, leaving the middle man of each group alive.”

Ibor smiled his smile, the smile of a bard, “Isn’t that right, sister?”

“Yes, it is!” Emer laughed, confirming Ibor’s account, “Those were the conditions I layed for Cú Chulainn in order to become my husband!”

“And I succeeded!” Cú Chulainn laughed, throwing an arm around Emer’s shoulder, joining in with her laughter. Cat followed soon enough, almost as if he didn’t remember, or didn’t care, that he had been so close to not being the man in the middle.

But that was not what Scibar focused on. For what felt like the thousandth time in his life, Scibar took a hard look at his sister’s eyes. The passive light was gone...no, no, it was never there, was it? Only a fake light, a facsimile of passivity that had fooled Scibar all these years; a facsimile that fooled their father his whole life.

Scibar finally burst out laughing with the rest of his family, but not because of the song being sung or the drink running thick or the memories everyone was spending the night recalling. Scibar laughed at the irony that the one pair of eyes his father may have accepted were the eyes of the one who was the first to reject that man.