Winds were strong that evening. One could hear it whistle past their ear as it shook the copper tinted grass. It wailed among the crashing waves two hundred meters below, and made the streaked brush strokes of clouds dance to its tune. The vibrant greens of the land meshed with the hazy blue of the sky, and the deep azure far below, separated only by the towering copper-tinted cliffs on which many visitors stood. Some breath was lost among the sea winds, but replaced with the swirling scents of brine, fresh hay, and brisk autumn; The view was enough to steal the rest.

These cliffs, cultivated only by snaking paths and a worn stone tower, were survivors. The play of man had changed scenes many times as time went on, and sometimes the land broke and shattered at their hand. Yet here it was as it always had been, even if the Chaldean servant had never seen these cliffs for himself. His heart knew as his soul resonated with the majesty of natural beauty.

The heart of the land still beat, and his own sang with it.

Far above the gentle surf, before the vast expanse ahead where sky met the sea, Fionn stood amidst a surviving grandeur. Like his glimmering locks akin to a flag of victory, his elegant white overcoat was courted by the wind. His hands remained in its pockets to hold them it firm, yet it flapped and tickled his fluttering navy slacks. Though his unruly hair sometimes shaded his view, he only smiled thoughtfully at the red sun at the horizon, which descended for its promised slumber.

He fiddled with the phone in his pocket. This was his first glimpse at his home's beauty in the modern world, but he wanted to savor it with his own eyes. These modern contraptions were useful and spectacular, but they often stole attention from what mattered. Even a little viewfinder to frame a shot was enough to shake one's immersion for such a grand sight; The beloved, simple bliss of the old days, where one's mind was the perfect journal, still sat firmly in his mind.

Though the times changed, he found he didn't mind. He especially didn't mind some of the other visitors who stood among the long-paved path with him. Their cameras were as much on the scenery as they were trying to snap a shot of him. Though many spoke a foreign language, or were too shy, he still entertained their perceived rude or bashful motives.

With his golden smile, he turned to a small group of Japanese tourists. An older woman glanced nervously, having been caught with her camera aimed his way. He merely smiled, turned partially to her, and adopted a more ideal posture. "Please feel free."

After a pause of retaliation, she, and many others along the stone railing, seized the opportunity. These natural cliffs with seas of lush grass became his runway, and he was the model. His smile gleamed brighter than the sunset and flashes from the cameras. After those quick few seconds, he was uncertain whether he milked the moment more or they did.

Fionn didn't mind either way. In his homeland at last, he felt like he could fly to the stars. The wind swirled around with its gentle embrace to welcome him back, and he felt the land's council influence his thoughts towards blissful reminiscence. In the prime of his youth, in the glory of this natural place, he shined brightly and thought deeply, more than he ever felt in Chaldea.

Smiling to the grinning sun, he could only hope this feeling was felt as much by his dear companions.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Fragment 91: Overdue Closure

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

All the commotion atop the Cliffs of Moher was a fun break from his thoughts. Not that they were dark or brooding to begin with. A few were solemn, but it was mostly content reminiscence while the land offered a final sense of closure to answers grasped in Chaldea. However, it was hard to feel that sense of satisfied understanding when there were so many camera flashes… which he definitely didn't mind posing for. 'I guess they think I'm a celebrity?'

"Ah what a ham. So that's why you wanted to stay down here, mister movie star… Shoulda guessed it."

"Oh, come now. I don't see you turning down photos," Fionn smirked as he stared up the path. Between him and the copper tower of old, a chuckling Cu walked up to him with hands in the pockets of his blue parka. With the front unzipped, his form-fitting turquoise undershirt easily drew some eyes from the few young ladies around; They were certainly drawn by more than just looks. A silver chain glinted on the side of his dark denims, but not brighter than the amused look in the other lancer's crimson eyes.

"Got me there. No harm at all." Cu finally came up beside him, and Fionn nearly chuckled as the sounds of flaring camera shutters doubled. Without a word, Cu slung his arm over Fionn's shoulders, threw out a peace sign, and grinned to the family. Other tourists nearby were also taking pictures shamelessly, but the mutual pride and satisfaction on the lancers' faces was a clear invitation. Cu's voice echoed in his mind, "Not every day you get to take a photo of two Irish legends."

"If only we could tell them," he chuckled back telepathically. Yet, they both knew these photos would have excited stories behind them. They may not know who they really were, but they could certainly feel some sort of magnetic pull. It radiated from their bodies like sunshine. Their auras roared like thunder across a plain, but with gentle pride and prestige being before a celebrity could never match. Standing side by side, Fionn was more impressed they weren't completely overwhelming those around.

Cu Chulainn, hero of the Ulster Cycle. Fionn Mac Cumhail, legend of the Fenian Cycle. In Irish Mythology, their names were legendary and revered, so there was no surprise their auras gleamed like mighty gods. He could only imagine what the people around them felt, but he knew all that mattered. He shined even brighter in his lands, without any question.

When the photos were over, and they shook several hands, the surrounding tourists turned back to the sunset. Fionn reached for his phone as the sun nearly touched the sea, but paused with Cu as he stared at one Irish resident walking away. The young blonde's eyes were darting between them and his hand they shook, and his speechless, bewildered, and awe-shaken mumblings sent them into chuckles. Cu elbowed his blonde friend and smirked, "I think we made his week."

"Maybe his month or year," Fionn replied as he fished out his phone for a shot. Cu did the same, but made a quick glance towards the top of the stone tower nearby. Fionn glanced too, chuckled at the number of heads he spied, and asked, "Got too crowded up there with all the fans?"

"Very. There's a few groups up there and Fergus is regaling them with stories. They think he's the coolest, strongest mythological historian ever," the other lancer smirked, and Fionn laughed at that thought. Trust Fergus to be so open, inviting, and friendly. They glanced back, and noticed Scathach silently stare towards them, then back to the crowds as Fergus' laughter echoed above the rest.

Fionn raised his phone to the sunset, but teased, "Looks like Scathach is going to have a word with you about abandoning her with Medb."

Cu shrugged. "Eh… They're being civil. Only two arguments in our nine hours here, and both were in the car. I'd say that's a victory."

"We still have two more days," the knight lancer noted, and Cu slowly nodded in agreement. "Knowing our luck… ah, I guess I'm the one testing our luck now."

They quickly fell into more chuckles as Cu snapped his first shot. Fionn glanced at his friend's phone to see how he framed it, but it looked identical to his. He believed it was hard to get a bad shot of this, but he was curious what George might be getting at the top of the tower. As Fionn snapped a new photo, he noticed Cu had lowered his to start typing something. His glances at any possible eyes made it very obvious what he was doing. The blonde smiled, but kept his eyes focused on his own photo. "Posting it to the wall?"

"If May didn't beat me to it. I'm sending this to Bazett first." There was a family within earshot.

"Knowing her, it's a selfie," Fionn pointed out. Medb always was the narcissist, but Fionn did find it quite attractive. There was just something about strong women, and speaking of which… The blonde smirked, "You sure you're not just teasing the poor thing?"

"I could be," Cu smirked back. "Shame she couldn't come either, but you heard Gabby. Lots of photos to make us jealous. Orders are orders."

"Yet, you're sending it alone to Bazett. Using any excuse, I see," Fionn pointed out as he glanced at the screen's recipient. "I can only imagine her face when we get back."

"I can see it already. It's going to be cute, for sure," Cu replied with a wolfish grin, then his eyes went wide as he got an idea. "Ah. I think I'll give her a selfie too. That's a good way to make her jealous, right?"

"Hm… Getting ideas from May now, are we?" the blonde asked as Cu quickly positioned himself for a proper shot. Though he didn't want to ruin his photo, it certainly gave him a similar idea. He smirked and shot back telepathically, "She has a point. Everything's better with a shining Celtic legend in the shot!"

As Fionn positioned himself against the stone railing for his own selfie, Cu glanced over and shook his head. "Oh? Hamming it up? Now who's the one grasping at any excuse?"

They laughed together, which made it harder for him to get his own selfie. It was strange how their friendship levelled out. There was much to be said about Celtic battlelust and pride, but it mellowed quickly between Ireland's greatest legendary heroes. In the early days they had their curious spars, and their little rivalry still continued, but they'd wound up as friends and comrades without doubt. It was hard not to with Cu; He was rather easygoing and friendly, much like Fergus was.

Fionn shrugged again. "They're not missing much anyway."

"Certainly not the alcohol we'll be hauling home." At that comment, they both smiled to each other again. "It's going to be a good new year."

"We have to welcome it in right this time around." Not that they didn't before. Celtic New Year fell on the same day as Halloween, so there was a guaranteed celebration last year. It just wound up more Halloween themed, even with their planned drinking games. This time around, Chaldea held a week-long community festival, and they were more than content to miss the first day if it meant securing a proper Irish celebration for the last.

That didn't mean they couldn't take some time to enjoy themselves on a quick Vigil flight over to their homeland. It'd be ridiculous and impossible if they didn't have some fun while they visited. Yet, as he felt the overwhelming presence of his fellow servants, he quickly noticed one was separated. He glanced across the sparsely covered pavement to a spot on the railing further away. There were a few visitors clustered around, so there was no mistaking it.

Cu glanced between Fionn's curious face and the distant cluster, but smirked and typed away at his phone again. "He's not surrounded by just girls. I'd say it's holding up fine."

"Seems so," Fionn commented calmly, though his thoughts drifted around the lone Irish lancer further off. He hid his thoughtful contemplation well since Cu suspected nothing. For all his fellow legend knew, he'd only turned back for another attempted selfie with the disappearing sun. Yet his mind lingered on the First of Fianna, who'd been just a bit quieter on this trip, so far. He'd even caught a single distant stare out the window as they drove away from Barnacrow.

Judging from another chorus of Fergus' booming laughter from the tower, and Cu's own chuckling, his subtle change was noticeable only to Fionn.

"Hey, check this out." Cu's elbow snapped him from his thoughts, and he stared to the beefy smartphone's screen nearly in his face. It was his and Bazett's private message chat on Thronebook. There was already a small conversation following his selfie, which he made look as dashing as possible. Dare Fionn say, Cu may have looked as handsome as his own selfies.

Bazett Mcremitz
That's a beautiful view

Cu Chulainn
Isn't it? The cliffs aren't bad either. Do you want one without the shirt too?

Bazett Mcremitz
You're unbelievable

Cu Chulainn
I didn't see a no ;)

Soon enough, his growing concerns had been quelled for the moment, and he fell into laughter with his friend as the fiery red orb tucked itself in for the evening.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ III ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

It had been a quick evening, all things considered. Ireland wasn't large, nor difficult to navigate by car. Diarmuid had been more talkative this time, so Fionn's concerns melted further into the back of his mind. They even managed to convince George to come exploring with them once they parked the cars and got settled at their hotel for the night. Before long, they'd arrived at Sligo, and quickly hit the streets in search of their first quick taste of the local flavors.

That's why this short three-day trip to Ireland came to be. The Vigil was easily trusted with delivery, but it was simply a matter of tasting the supply beforehand. No one could pick proper Irish brews better than Celtic legends. The tastes of the modern world could be of a far different sort than theirs after thousands of years, so the safest bet was to get it themselves.

The night was lively, as expected of the weekend. The pubs flourished, and the streets were speckled with residents in the off season. Medb had spotted a curious clothing store still open, and soon disappeared inside. Scathach feigned mild interest, but disappeared within too. Opting out of following, Fionn was content to wait outside and enjoy the atmosphere of a quiet Irish town.

Nearby, there was the sound of an evening street performer playing a French horn. Fionn would've preferred the tin flute to bring out that traditional Celtic air, but one couldn't choose artists. What he found most curious was the young teen with glasses and braided red hair was busking, rather than hanging out with friends this late. Her open instrument backpack was decently filled with spare change though.

As he glanced around quietly, eyeing how different things were these days, the music came to an abrupt halt. He glanced back, and noticed a small group of older teens had approached her. It was difficult to hear parts over nearby passing conversations, but it was drawing a few bystanders. His small smile faded as he saw the redhead's growing dismay while a blonde with a plastic tiara pointed at her. He didn't need to bite his thumb to figure out something was wrong.

Yet no one did anything, which only infuriated him more. "Diarmuid. I'll be a few paces away."

Barely acknowledging the reply, Fionn quickly sailed himself down the sidewalk and past the occasional group. Before long, some were parting ways quickly for him as he approached the girls. He heard one final comment only a few strides away. "Maybe if you went to parties instead of begging for money like a hobo you wouldn't be such an outcast. Ever think of that?"

The blonde immediately clammed up when he finished his approach. His presence demanded immediate attention, and his small frown was like thunder as he stared towards the offending young teen. She and her friends could barely tear their eyes off him, but he wasn't interested in admiration. He crossed his arms, glanced to the quiet busker, who no longer seemed to shake beneath her white sweater and loose jeans.

"Are they giving you trouble, miss?" he asked calmly, but she looked hesitant to answer.

"Um… Not anymore!" One of the other girls answered quickly and began ushering her gaggle of friends away. Though the others were a mix of reactions, at least this one looked apologetic and ashamed. "Sorry! Let's go meet the boys! We're late to your own party!"

That ended far faster than he thought. Though he wanted to say more, it was a decent conclusion. He turned back to the young teen, who still looked at a loss of words; A shame his overwhelming presence in the homeland often shook the shy into silence. Finally, she was able to offer her tiny quiet reward. "…Thank you."

With a reassuring smile, he nodded to her, grasped a loose bill in his pocket, and tossed it quietly into her bag. He took his leave, just as the elderly shopkeeper finally burst from the door to the parting crowd. "Did something happen, dearie? I'm sorry, I should've noticed sooner!"

Content that he left her in good company, he returned to the clothing store. He curiously stared at Diarmuid, who now waited for him just outside its glimmering windows. The famed lancer was drawing some curious glances from passing women, even if all he wore was a simple black track jacket and jeans. His own stare remained on the approaching blonde, who only smiled in reassurance as the French Horn played again behind him.

He reached out mentally to joke, "Just a damsel in need. We knights can't ignore that."

"Yea. I suppose we can't." Though he returned it calmly, Fionn could sense the underlying emotion beneath. One couldn't tell based on his friend's calm smile, but he had a growing hunch since they arrived. Honestly, his dark-haired comrade should've stayed in Chaldea if that recent memorial essence was troubling him, but he came anyway. At least he was enjoying himself, but these occasional, frequent hints were starting to make Fionn second guess it.

Hopefully a few pints of dark stuff at the pubs would be just the medicine.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IV ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

After a few hours, and many delicious drinks, they were already making their first barrel purchases.

They'd been planning to get their haul in Dublin, but they'd already had their 'secrecy procedure' planned beforehand. Among the quaintly packed buildings that sat squished around the parking lot, Fionn kept fair, but unsuspicious, glances around the many parked cars. The back of their cyan rental SUV was open, and only its automatic light kept him company. Their other matching BMW beside it remained quiet beside his, but otherwise, he didn't draw attention as he prepped for the next arrival.

Fergus' hearty laughter heralded his and his companion's return. Fionn smiled, but kept focused on his own little task. In the trunk of his modern stallion, one of Chaldea's newest inventions rested on the padded floor. It appeared like just an inconspicuous looking wooden crate with their home's logo, but it was an evolution of their common holding bags. This prototype crate was only a meter long and wide, yet the short container's true capacity rivalled a commercial shipping container.

It was no wonder the Vigil was negotiating with Chaldea to obtain a few of these for storage.

After mentally fumbling around its void-like, dark interior, Fionn slid the lid away from the crate as Fergus and George came close. Fergus shot the lancer a thumbs up with his free arm. With his tight green polo and jeans, he looked like a well-honed bodybuilder, but also one with finesse since he balanced two large barrels in one hand. George, by contrast, looked more refined in his white, popped-collar dress-shirt tucked into tan slacks, and partially hidden by a crisp, navy blazer.

Fionn couldn't help but chuckle as the rider balanced his own two barrels, but with both arms. He walked over to help relieve the rider, even if it was a laughable weight for any servant. "You're dressed much too formally to be walking around with those, George."

"You let me come along, so I insist on pulling my weight," the saint replied as Fionn quickly glanced around the parking lot. There was only one pair of eyes aimed their way, but it was safe to ignore that pair. Mostly. George stopped as Fionn quickly lifted the top oak cask. "So what do we have here?"

"Kilkenny. A lot of it. Cu and Diarmuid are coming with more barrels," the saber noted. He then glanced around, stared towards a darker corner of the parking lot, chuckled, and picked up a barrel. He carefully guided it to the lip of the crate, then let it calmly disappear into its endless abyss. "Medb and Scathach are checking out Wine Buffs we spotted earlier."

Fergus then glanced back to the dark corner of the lot again as he grasped the second barrel. "Think we should ask that magus if he wants to come drinking?"

"Unless he's genuine Irish, he can't keep up with any of you," George commented, and the other two chuckled. "He's still keeping his distance, yes? I don't think he's going to try something on our cars. Surely he's just curious about your presence."

"I was more worried he was going to steal the drinks," Fergus declared easily. They laughed again. There was very little the vast majority of modern mages could do to a servant, let alone a group of them. Yet, the Vigil had a point. They had to keep their wits about them and stay in groups in case someone got deviant ideas. In this case, the hidden magus could be an observer for the Clock Tower or, as George said, a curious lone wolf. It wasn't going to ruin their night, but they'd keep tabs.

As George lifted his own barrel to the crate, Fionn breathed the lovely autumn, Irish air again. "I hope you're enjoying the sights? Not quite as red as the American Southwest."

"A lot of nice greens instead. Ireland has very charming countryside," George commented back. "I can't wait to see the view from the hill."

"Our first sunrise in modern Ireland! We should take a barrel up to enjoy!" Trust Fergus to turn something as simple as a sunset as an excuse to celebrate. Or more accurately, to drink. Not that Fionn would argue that point. "We'll still have plenty for New Years. This crate will be overflowing by the time we fly from Dublin! Let's get it filled early so we can show these Irish how to party like true Celts!"

"I won't say no to that!" Fionn agreed wholeheartedly. Celtic celebrations were always a time of bliss, and any excuse to have one was more than welcome. As Gabrielle often reassured, the tradition of Irish drinking was still more than alive and well, but did it stand up to true tradition? Even after so long, he could still recount every single celebration and party held with his beloved Knights of Fianna, all the way up until…

It was tragic the feasts didn't shine as brightly after that. They just lost that overwhelmingly positive feeling, but that was only to be expected. They only got worse from there, but he wasn't going to let that get him down. Not while in good company and in his homeland, where he can make new memories atop of his old. The past was the past, and his tough memories had been laid to rest long, long ago thanks to Chaldea's grace.

Yet, as he spotted Diarmuid and Cu coming back with two barrels, he had to wonder if it was the same case for him.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ V ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

It was chillier this morning. Brisk mountain air joined hands with a frigid sea breeze that swept across the rolling mountain's top. The scattered clouds above their dirt path were blooming with their first tints of pink. The autumn dew on the grass would soon be twinkling too. It was still very early, but they hiked to their destination in record time for their companion.

"Not even a sip, George? You sure?"

"I'm certain, thank you. My camera will do all the drinking this morning!"

"Suit yourself!" Fergus laughed on his chosen seat on their picnic blanket. He leaned back on one arm as he drank from a new souvenir mug. Sat primly atop his changed pair of jeans, Medb used him as her personal throne to keep any moisture away. She too drank from her own matching mug, and looked royally content in her signature, fluffy white coat and matching sweat pants. After downing his drink, Fergus placed his mug down beside him, then gently ran his hand against her thigh.

The pair chuckled together while Cu reclined on the blanket beside them, but Diarmuid and Fionn stood behind them. Quietly, Fionn eyed his knight, who remained mostly quiet as he stood in his black slacks and gray sweater. His drink had barely been touched, which only added to the growing number of peculiarities the blonde had noticed. Still, Diarmuid's eyes remained calm and inquisitive. He turned to him, and with small smiles, they both nodded to each other.

Fionn then glanced at his own occupied hands. In one he also had a classic stein for his drink, but in the other he held a rough stone he'd picked up before leaving the Cliffs of Moher. There was a pile of similar stones by the blanket; One more for each of them. When the sun finally rose, they'd follow a tradition that continued long after their time, carried forth by the residents of Sligo.

"If your wish is to sleep with me, you still got a ways to go, Fionn!" Fionn turned to Medb, who only smirked tauntingly his way.

He smirked back and shook his head. "Sorry, Medb. But I had something more important in mind."

Scathach laughed at the quip further away, making Fergus buckle with his own laughter as Medb glared her way. Further up the path, closer to the mountain's centerpiece attraction, Scathach chuckled with her arms folded in front of her white turtleneck sweater. Her denims were dark and nearly blended with the shadow of the large, rocky silhouette nearby. Yet, like Medb, she shined brilliantly with all her glory, in Fionn's vision at least.

George stood beside her with his camera set up on a tripod. The horizon was already turning a lovely gold, and his shutter was flaring away more than the sun's first rays. His hair and Scathach's blew with another breeze, like royal battle flags of yore did atop this hill; Of that, there was no question. The top of this mountain was special, and the servants could feel it in waves that emanated from the large, rock-covered mound.

More specifically, the massive cairn that finally began to glow with the rising sun: Queen Medb's Cairn.

While George's camera fluttered away, and Cu woke up to growing excitement from the open couple, Fionn stared to the gravesite. It was like a pyramid of Ireland, both in prominence and symbolism. The fact it was intact, and still carried traditions, spoke well of the area's reverence to the late warrior queen. It was amusing and thought provoking that the queen herself would see her own grave, but his ponderings led elsewhere.

"You know what we're missing? Some good grub. If only there was a concession stand or ten up here," Fergus commented, making Medb giggle and Cu chuckle. He then called out. "Hey George! How's this to those parks you visited? Was it as built up?"

"They were left alone. You had to drive or walk far to see lots of buildings. They try not to mar the scenery."

"A fair point. A McDonalds would have ruined it," Fionn agreed, and Fergus shrugged in partial admittance. Yet, that's roughly what he'd been thinking about. Ireland may have looked different, but some parts remained intact. They didn't cast aside their history or nature; Places like here, atop Knocknarea, proved that, yet they often didn't go out of their way to worship it.

It was irksome, but he recalled their first stops on their road trip to the Cliffs of Moher. Fionn had been excited to see the Hill of Allen, where his fortress loomed over the fertile lands which his knights would ride through before their hunts. Yet, what he found was disappointing. The forested hill was desolate, and its figure marred by years of quarrying. All they found was a folly tower and a few signs for history. They'd said they unearthed Fionn's bones when building the structure, and reinterred them beneath… but there was no visible monument, plaque, or anything in remembrance of a legend.

It was more than enough for a disheartened Fionn to say they shouldn't waste any more time there.

That's why, though he's glad Ireland didn't truly forget, he was jealous Medb's grave was preserved while his was abandoned. Was he not also one of Ireland's greatest heroes too? Surely he'd have had a monument or ten dedicated to his shining legend, yet there was none. It was rude of him, but even Cu, his equal, had a few statues to his name. For the most part, their mythology and legend had held on by tradition and praise, rather than physical heritage.

It was baffling considering how powerfully they emanated here, yet it led to only one sound and solemn conclusion: Ireland revered them, but they still moved on.

Their era had long gone, and though passed down as heritage, they were but myths. Traditions remained, like the rock in his hand, which was a custom to bring to Medb's cairn to toss among its peers with a wish. Yet, though he was disappointed more of his past splendor lacked monuments… part of him agreed; Even he'd moved on, for the wish in his hands to be cast with the stone had almost nothing to do with the past.

'Let me shine even better this time around.'

If Medb heard it, she would have laughed at how narcissistic it sounded. But from his view, it was as much of a wish as it was a promise. He'd been spectacular, and his legend was still favored, but after a year of time in Chaldea, and two memorial essences, he understood. He was far from perfect, and his shine was still marred with disgrace; Shame caused by his own hands. Yet, like the sun before him, a new dawn had arrived, and a second chance with it. He could do better this time.

"Stone throwing time!" Fergus cheered happily as he carefully picked himself up, with Medb nestled in his arms. He gently placed the small queen on her feet, then moved to the pile of wishes. "Get 'em while they're hot!"

"Are we still up for that throwing competition?" Cu asked as he reached over to grab a smooth, oval rock.

"The one who lands it furthest from mine pays for the next ten barrels!" Medb confirmed as Fergus handed her one of the stones. She then proceeded to quickly, and nonchalantly, hurl her rock towards the tall cairn. Her wish was clearly determined earlier.

It disappeared over the top, but she merely smiled as Cu deadpanned at her. "How are we supposed to measure it now? Do you even know where it went?"

"Of course I know where it went, Cu~! I drew a smiley face on it last night!" On cue, Fergus flipped over his stone and made a thinking sound. He then quickly glanced to the amber-basked cairn, then to the rock again. Medb curiously looked over, then blanched upon seeing the winking emoji on the rock he held. "Fergus! I thought you handed me my stone!"

"Sorry, babe… You didn't tell me you actually marked one," the saber chuckled sheepishly, and though she pouted and smacked his arm, the others laughed.

Yet Diarmuid's chuckle was so quiet it was nearly nonexistent. Maybe Fionn was overthinking and grasping at every possible hint now, but he was still worried. He glanced to his knight curiously, and the other lancer quickly gazed back as he asked, "Are you alright? You seem lost, Diarmuid."

"Ah, sorry, my lord. Just thinking about my wish is all."

Though his concerns were slowly piling up, Fionn decided to jest instead. "Well don't think too hard! You may end up buying ten barrels if your thoughts blind you."

"Right. That'd be painful," Diarmuid smiled back. Try as he might, Fionn could easily tell there was some troubled thoughts hiding behind his pearly whites.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

"Definitely sharing this with Gabby!" Medb proclaimed as her phone's shutter snapped. "So places like this do still exist! It's almost like the walk to my favorite spring."

"…Should we watch out for cheese throwing bandits then?" There was a loud smack, quickly followed by laughter.

The mirth echoed in these woods, yet was absorbed all the same. There was a mysticism in the air, only amplified by the morning sunrays that pierced the canopy. Scarlet and golden leaves held strong in the final days of autumn, while just as many copper companions had fallen in the previous week. Yet beauty untold defined this small walk and ushered back memories of an untouched land.

Chiseled stone walls, done by fairies who lived nearby, as legend told, were carved along both side of this miniature valley. They were tall, close, and almost suffocating, but they meant no harm in their wonderous embrace. The air smelled almost mystic, and the gentle silence of this glen cradled all of them along its length. Fionn, who moved only a scant dozen paces further from his friends, could now barely hear their conversation. George was further lost in the lens of his camera; He was further behind the group after stopping to chat with a passing photographer.

Fionn moved nearly in a trance. These woods reminded him so much of the forests he grew up in, and those he hunted amongst in later years. Any second now, he thought a fae may appear, heralded by the mystic air and a shimmer of magical shimmers. Yet none did. There was only Gaia's voice that echoed from carefully preserved nature and rained down him in the form of little sunbeams.

Quietly, he closed his eyes while breathing in hearty sycamore and beech. Stepping forward, he could almost envision the hunts long gone. He could hear the laughter of his knights echo around him among the clatters of trotting horses. Twigs would snap, leaves rustled, and the sounds of mythic beasts snarled at their approach, yet they always rode valiantly and confidently. He could even hear the sound of the Dord Fiann echo from his memories and through his heart…

…But it wasn't a reminiscent sound, nor was it the fabled horn itself, but a French horn.

Shaken from his reverie, he slowly opened his eyes and gazed further into the glen. Among the gently rustling leaves on the breeze, his ears caught the instrument further ahead. Curious, he glanced back to his friends, who were busy taking photos further behind. Only Diarmuid seemed to look his way, and he reached out to him over their connection, "I'll be further ahead. I'll yell if I get attacked by a hydra… so everyone can see me defeat it!"

Diarmuid chuckled, making Fionn smile as he carefully speed walked down the winding little valley. Ferns brushed against him, as if to welcome back a long-lost legend. The sunbeams parted like curtains in his way, and before long, the sound of the French horn grew vibrant. His approach fell even quieter as his eyes scanned the rocky walls from which practiced music emanated. Though rough and tumble, it couldn't mar the glamour of this mystical cleft mother nature kept sealed away.

Finally, his eyes landed on a small mountain bike propped against the walls, and further up, the young teen from last night. In roughed up jeans and a green sweater, she was nestled a few meters up on a moss and vine covered nook along the chiseled walls. She was lost practicing and fumbling along with notes, far enough Fionn could come up quietly. With hands folded behind his coat, he quietly waited and listened, thinking of what to say when he wouldn't interrupt.

About a minute later, the young woman glanced away from her notes and towards her bike, then stuttered to a surprised halt upon seeing Fionn. He chuckled, but raised his hand in reassurance, "Sorry! I didn't meant to scare you. I just heard music in the distance and got curious. It's nice to meet you again."

"Y-You too, sir," she stuttered, but quickly recomposed herself, smiled, and nodded his way. "Thank you again for last night. I didn't mean to trouble you."

"Ah, don't mention it. You can say I'm used to helping people in need," he offered back with a calming smile; It was hardly necessary. His proud, valiant, and noble aura was clearly relaxing her. If anything, she looked appreciative of his company. He glanced to her instrument backpack, the bike, and then to her horn curiously. "You biked up here to practice? You're a long ride from Sligo."

"I live thirty minutes away, so it's good exercise," she offered as she set her horn onto her lap.

"You didn't bike through the glen, I hope. I'd shiver at the thought of falling with your instrument."

"Oh, no, sir. I walk my bike up here. Too many roots," she quickly replied. "It's hard enough riding here some days."

He nodded in understanding as he glanced at her bike. It was more akin to a racing bike than one suited for mountains; He'd only learned the difference from Gudao, who was rather avid about mountain biking. It certainly was no ordinary bike, which meant it saw plenty of use. "Is it just a weekend thing, miss…?"

"Shae, sir." He felt the slow approached of his friends, but the conversation held his growing interest.

"And you may call me Finian," Fionn replied quickly, then waited respectfully for her real answer.

"Finian, sir," she said, and he chuckled at her respectfulness. "I ride here every weekend I can, or when I don't have school. I like to practice my songs in secret, but I don't get to do it in winter. It makes good practice for bike racing too."

"Ah, so you want to be some sort of athlete for a living? Like Lance Armstrong?"

"Not cycling, but I want to do triathlons as a hobby… like my uncle," she kindly corrected, then fiddled with her French horn. "I want to be a historian when I grow up too, but I always get made fun of for it."

"Like those girls from your school last night?" She nodded slowly, and he shook his head with a small sigh. "I don't see anything wrong with being a historian. Are you interested in a certain niche?"

"Irish history and mythology." Now she had Fionn's complete attention, but he hid his growing smile behind calm curiosity. "The popular girls think I'll just wind up playing on the streets my whole life begging for money. Or some low paying job no one appreciates."

"I know a few important people who might appreciate your music. Of that, I can assure you." He was feeling a bit playful, and the pride was welling in his chest. He couldn't help his next words, honestly. "You're in luck, honestly. I happen to be a well-read Irish historian as a hobby. Specifically, the Fenian Cycle. You may even call me a scholar, though I'd like to think I'm a better model."

"Really, si- I mean, You are, Fenian? I've done more studying on the Ulster and Mythical cycles, but I'm just as curious about the Knights of Fianna! They feel similar to stories from Camelot, like Arthur and Fionn. My dad loves Arthurian lore, but he grew up in Wales. My mom always said he… Oh, sorry. I'm rambling on. It's a bad habit of mine."

"Socializing is a bad habit? I learned something today," he joked back and waved off her apology. He was quick to shift gears though; He was more than happy to talk about himself and the shining days of yore. "What do you know of the Fenian Cycle so far? Well read on Fionn? Diarmuid?"

Curiously, at the mention of his own name, Shae's smile faltered a bit. He tilted his head curiously, and she didn't hesitate to respond. "I know enough that I think Fionn seemed more human than the stories made him to be. He wasn't some perfect giant that could move the earth, but a charismatic hero who made mistakes like all of us. I think that makes him better though. Relatable?"

He had to keep his eyebrow forced down, and the sting in his heart hidden. Her words were a bit blunt to his legendary figure, but her tone carried no ill will. If anything, it remained… inspired? Though disappointed, and feeling incensed to correct her to fix his shine in a young maiden's eyes, he remained quiet. If anything, he'd begun to think again, as he had plenty of times in Chaldea.

He let her continue, "The tale with Grainne and Diarmuid stood out the most to me. Grainne was clearly the culprit, yet Fionn harbored jealousy and hatred for Diarmuid. He was innocent. With his curse, and Grainne's forced geis, and her discontent… I think Fionn should have been mad at her and truly forgiven Diarmuid, but he winds up getting him killed out of jealousy… But that's the only tale I know really well from the Fenian Cycle. I got a long way to go before I'm some scholar… I just hope I'll make it one day."

"…You'll make it one day, but just keep an open mind about stories. Sometimes, perspective changes with time, and the tales are often told from one view." Fionn's words were calm and certain, and his small smile to her was genuine. Sure he was hurt, but though a bit irked by her words, it was because it was the bitter truth he'd finally understood. "Like I said, I'm well-read on the subject, so I can offer my own views and opinions. You're more than welcome to ask me questions if you wish."

"Oh… But you're not from around here, right? I don't want to trouble you on your vacation or break," she quickly hesitated, but he only smiled and pulled out his phone.

"That's what emails are for, no? We're not waiting for horse-riding couriers anymore."

"Ah right! Thank you, Mister Finian. You sure it'd be alright if I emailed you?"

"Exchanging emails with a young girl? You've fallen, Finian." At that comment, he finally took note of his approaching group of friends, but Medb, and Fergus were missing; None seemed to be worried. Diarmuid was in the lead, but a grinning Cu quickly overtook him with a teasing smirk. He then shot a reassuring smile towards Shae. "Don't worry, just giving our friend a hard time! He's not the sketchy type!"

"I know," she answered confidently, then nodded to all of them. "I'm Shae. It's nice to meet all of you."

Diarmuid smiled to her, but Fionn noted the fading glint of disappointment in his knight's eyes. "I saw my friend helped you last night? I hope you had a good evening after?"

"I did, thanks to both of you. I made a bit more money towards my college fund!" she exclaimed happily, and patted her instrument. "Is there any way I can repay you? I feel bad… You already gave me your email and…"

"There's no need. I'm used to helping others. My friends can relate," Fionn reassured, and she nodded again bashfully. He noticed she still seemed disappointed in her fidgeting, so he pondered quietly. "…But you seem very keen on clearing debts, so how about this. Are there any songs you've been practicing no one has heard yet? We could be your first audience, miss Shae."

"Serenade in the woods? That sounds like a pleasant treat," Scathach commented with her own curious smile, which grew as Shae's gaze lit up.

"Uh, I do have a few new ones I've been, uh, working on… What's a good one… Oh!"

"How about you surprise us and play?" Cu offered before she could voice a title. With another content smile, the redhead glanced to all of them, saw their welcoming expressions, and nodded. Quietly, she lifted her instrument to her mouth, and gently placed her free hand inside its bell. With closed eyes, she adjusted her lips, fiddled with the keys once, then let her first notes play.

Fionn was far from knowledgeable on musical instruments. Phantom of the Opera and Mozart would appreciate it better, but he'd heard French horn was difficult. It made the gentle notes that echoed from her instrument that much more impressive with its smoothness and precise tone. Her practicing showed flawlessly in the current song, which waltzed with the atmosphere of the glen to bring out more of its mystic shine.

The song even sounded familiar, but his answer came after Cu chuckled over their mental link. "She plays the Jurassic Park theme really well."

The glen was no realm of ancient dinosaurs, but it had a majestic feeling of its own. There was something about her carefully played notes that naturally blended with the air. He glanced at gently waving ferns and the glistening sunbeams as Shae continued her serenade, unencumbered and flawless. Even George's quiet flick of a shutter beside Diarmuid, who was quietly recording the solo on his phone, fell silent among the waltz.

However, though they all smiled at the wondrous performance of nature and song, Fionn noticed Diarmuid's smile was more propped up than ever.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

It was hours later, but Shae's few songs still sang in his ears. The others wound up giving her their emails too, and though Fionn was a bit miffed he wasn't her sole mythology reference, she would get those varied perspectives; He gave her a warning that 'May' would likely drone on about Queen Medb. Shae just thought it was amusing their names were similar… If only she knew.

Their run-in was another high note for the morning, which likely made shopping with Scathach and Medb easier for Cu and Fergus. Fionn hoped for less arguing, at least, but he didn't have to deal with it. They'd split up so he and Diarmuid could sightsee Sligo with George. The clouds were being unusually cooperative for Ireland, which made the town shine that much brighter for their own riverside tour.

And what a vibrant town Sligo was.

Noon was a skip away, yet Fionn still couldn't tear his eyes away at the quaint beauty of the tightly packed buildings. There were very few modern structures, which made the rows of colorful houses stand out. Many white walls and beige walls broke up the patterns, but some of the peaked fronts stood like celebrities among their flocks. One he stared at glowed with its jagged royal blue, cerulean, and white coloring, which reflected on the River Garavogue's dark surface. A few others nearby glistened with their reds, or hummed in pale yellows.

It was hardly a wonder George was bashfully requesting to stop every dozen paces, but how could one not stop for this simple beauty? He rested against the steel railing, which also glistened with a dance of blues and silvers. The paved walkway was hardly packed, since most were on the opposite sides of the road where the shops and restaurants beckoned. The quaint little river remained far more interesting than window shopping.

Beside him, George had his camera aimed at the colorful buildings across the river, but Fionn was passing carefully disguised glances between the river and a nearby footbridge. On the tiny arching bridge, Diarmuid leaned against another rail and stared distantly into the water below. Some passersby likely thought he was just enjoying himself by his tiny smile, but Fionn knew it was just a front. With arms crossed on the railing, he appeared vulnerable.

Though he'd been fairly talkative since they'd left The Glen, Fionn couldn't pretend to be ignorant any longer. "I want to see what fishes are amusing my knight. If I leave you alone, you won't fall in, will you?"

"If it offers a nice angle, I might," George joked back, and they shared a laugh before Fionn nodded in gratitude. The footbridge was only a few dozen meters away anyhow. "I'll catch up with you two shortly!"

Fionn waved in thanks, then walked steadily towards the bridge while pretending to eye where Diarmuid stared. The other lancer quietly tossed a glance his way as he approached, but then stared to the waters again. After rounding the corner onto the bridge, Fionn smiled to a passing couple, who practically beamed back at him in wonder; He was going to miss those reactions in Chaldea.

But Fionn had a solid hunch there was something that should remain here too. "One of the nine royal rivers of Ireland… I heard Saint Patrick blessed this river with bountiful salmon."

Diarmuid finally glanced to him with a mask of curiosity. He glanced quickly, but there was no one nearby to overhear. "Did the throne tell you that before you came?"

"Bits and pieces," Fionn shrugged as he leaned against the railing next to his old comrade. "Maybe we'll drink with him one day… You think the bishop will like that?"

"I'm not certain. He's a saint…" he mused, then cracked a small, amused, but genuine smile. "Then again, we have Martha."

"What a divine woman she is… with hands that deliver sinners to God's shining light," Fionn chuckled back, and managed to coax a fairly forced chuckle from his friend. Fionn stared to him, and Diarmuid glanced back. The blonde's smile remained, but Diarmuid quickly glanced back to the dark waters below. Fionn finally let out a sigh. "Something's been troubling you Diarmuid, and I think I know what. You overheard my conversation with Shae?"

His head dipped a bit shamefully. "…Forgive me, my lord. I was trying to catch up... I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"It was likely difficult, what with our special ears and a silent glen. I'm not holding it against you." Fionn smiled reassuringly, but Diarmuid kept his head dipped low and aimed to the river. There was no mistaking it now: It was the same ashamed look he held when he'd finally caught up with him and Grainne the day he 'forgave' them. The only difference was he leaned against the railing pitifully, rather than knelt before him. "Hmm… but you're still clinging to that regret as tightly as ever. That Memorial Essence made it worse, didn't it?"

"I…" Diarmuid began as he glanced to the legendary lancer, but lost his tongue. It arrived just a day before their trip, and it shook him pretty noticeably; All Memorial Essences generally did. Some just carried far more baggage. Diarmuid stared shamefully to the waters again and nodded slowly. "…It was a rough day."

"I figured it came with more than two swords and a new surge of Celtic battle lust… I didn't even need to bite my thumb!" Noticing his joke fell flat on his friend, he sighed as Diarmuid mouthed another quiet apology. After a small pause, the blonde stared in contemplation towards him. "I guess I'm partially to blame for you feeling this way."

"My lord, no!" Diarmuid quickly stared to him in shock, and partial horror. He said it rather loudly, which made Fionn glance around in concern, but again, no one was within earshot. George was trying to photograph a building reflection on the water too. A panicked Diarmuid still didn't care about his tone. "It's all my fault! It was me who marred your legen-"

Fionn quickly raised a hand to silence him, and stared firmly. Diarmuid's eyes flashed with recognition, and he quickly dipped his head again in shame. This was the look he gave all his knights when he was about to scold them or give a serious declaration. Yet, today, it was a terribly long overdue one. "I didn't mean it like that, Diarmuid. I meant I was at fault for your continued guilty conscience. I never did tell you straight that I've truly forgiven you, have I?"

"You…" Diarmuid dared to raise his head to stare, but Fionn only nodded in acknowledgement. "But when you first arrived, you told me that..."

"What I told you wasn't as clear as it should have been." His reassurances on arrival left much to be desired, but he never bit his thumb on that. What he'd said left a hole his friend likely continually slipped through. He'd been too ignorant and dismissive of a lingering cancer that plagued his friend, but no longer. For their sake, he had to finally lay this to rest. "It's been over a year. I said my memories belonged to an older me and our past. They did. I thought that'd be enough for you, but I suppose all my joking around about that ordeal didn't help."

"…Your other Memorial Essences? Did they…?"

"Reawaken some of those feelings?" Fionn asked, and Diarmuid quickly nodded. To his friend's dismay, the blonde slowly nodded. "I kept it under wraps, but they did. Those things carry quite a punch of emotion, don't they? Now you know why I was grumpier those days."

Fionn glanced to Diarmuid, who now looked more ashamed than ever, but he surprised him with a chuckle. "I know what you're thinking. That I despise you all over again, but you're not listening, Diarmuid. I've forgiven you, truly. I did after I arrived, and I did every day since, Memorial Essences be damned."

"After all I've done? I brought your world to ruins." Diarmuid was exactly like himself on that day. It welled him with a mix of emotions, but Fionn stayed his course resolutely.

"One could say Lancelot and Mordred did for Arturia, but look how Camelot shines again," Fionn countered with a reassuring smile. "Watching them was eye opening, and hearing their new tale more so. I thought they managed to do what we did, but I was ignorant of the cracks in our new foundation. Allow me to settle it once and for all, Diarmuid… I've forgiven you, because that ordeal was as much my fault as it was yours. What Miss Shae said was right about that."

"My lord, you had nothing to…!" Diarmuid trailed off as soon as he saw the glint of acknowledgement and wisdom that shined in his eyes. How Ironic. Fionn had all the world's wisdom and knowledge at the tip of his tongue, yet it took all his witnessing and pondering in Chaldea to understand; This was something he wouldn't bite his tongue on, but a self-realization long overdue that he'd kept to himself this whole time.

Their trip to Ireland just placed the icing on the cake. "I'm a very jealous man, Diarmuid. One can say I was justified with my actions and feelings, but I don't think so. Was my jealousy that got you killed worth the collapse of the Fianna? What did spilling that spring water do except murder a dear comrade caught in an unfortunate vice? To tarnish my legend with my own hands? All the knowledge and wisdom in the world is worthless if I was so blind and content to ignore it. If I am to blame you, then I must blame myself equally."

He let out a sigh, as Diarmuid fell solemn and contemplative. Yet, Fionn smiled and let out a chuckle as he swept his hand across Sligo's riverfront majesty. "Yet, look how Ireland remembered the legends. Irish myth and heritage may be in high reverence, but the landmarks are gone. Ireland is different. They've grown into something else, but it's beautiful, no? They've moved on long ago, and I think it's time we did the same. The past must be remembered, but it should chain us no more."

"My lord…" Diarmuid fell into a silent pause, but Fionn was more than happy to let him think over his words.

Nearly a minute passed as the blonde felt his shoulders lighten after his own admission of weakness. For so long, he'd believed he shined flawlessly, and remained confused why so much misfortune seemed to chase him. It took a few Memorial Essences to acknowledge, and more time to accept the truth, but it was his first step. He'd marred his own image, and the only way to correct it was to move on and better himself. But he couldn't, and wouldn't, do it alone.

His friend shouldn't be left stuck in the past like he was.

And he was glad it wasn't to be, either. After he glanced to Diarmuid, he noticed a brilliant, genuine smile that could have shined as brightly as his. He reached over, patted the dark-haired lancer's back, and smiled. "Feeling better, my friend?"

"Yes… Thank you, Fionn." Hearing him say his name so casually showered the sprinkles he needed. He noticed his shoulders and eyes seemed far lighter; He also noticed George was snapping a picture of them, and hoped he hadn't overheard. Not that he minded too much with the important words aired.

"I've forgiven you, truly this time. Don't forget that… and I'll tone down my jokes too," Fionn restated adamantly, but then chuckled. "Now that that's out of the way, we can truly enjoy our little vacation again without any troubles, big or small!"

Though Diarmuid nodded, he fell curious as Fionn seemed to stare towards his cheek. Diarmuid raised a hand cautiously towards his own cheek, but the blonde lancer only shook his head. "It's still covered. Did you reapply it this morning?"

"I did." Diarmuid was almost prevented from coming due to his love spot, but Paracelsus and Medea's newly developed cream worked just in time. The test-run two days before they left worked wonders; The women staff no longer needed to take a preventative potion… which a few gladly missed ever now and then, on purpose. "I was nervous for most of yesterday."

"Just as long as you were concerned about your makeup and not about our past," Fionn pointed out, and Diarmuid quickly blanched at his words. Fionn only chuckled and pointed at him. "Hey. We're leaving the past behind, so I need to find new ways to tease you. It is makeup."

"I…!" His friend spoke up to defend, but the smirking Fionn watched it fade into defeated retaliation. "…I… suppose this is karma for teasing Emiya as a mother queen…"

"If he starts prodding you with that, it wasn't me." After his promise, Fionn felt his stomach rumble. All these nice smells from the restaurants which mixed with the autumn air of his homeland… How could he resist for long? "Is it one yet? I could use some home cooking… and a few drinks."

"Certainly a few drinks," Diarmuid agreed as he glanced at his watch. George began walking up the bridge towards them as the dark-haired lancer nodded. "Twenty minutes. We've got a bit more sightseeing before we meet the others at Hargadon Bros."

"Then it's back to Dublin for the real tasting, and you're not escaping this, George!" Fionn practically announced as he gazed to the surprised, but amused, rider. "We're going to show you real Irish partying!"

The long-haired saint chuckled. "I hold no doubts. If you're not the life of the pubs, I'll be disappointed."

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VIII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Their conversation had done wonders. The drive back to Dublin was light and upbeat; There was no break between commentary on the land, and their amusing tangents. If Diarmuid ever did stare into the distant countryside, it was with a content smile on his face. Their next, real visit of Ireland was sure to be even better.

Especially since Gabrielle and Medb insisted they couldn't go kiss the Blarney Stone without her. "We need Gabby for a better Gift of Gab!"

So, upon arriving, their little tour ended for straight business… in the form of afternoon shopping and an early evening pub crawl. As promised, they were starting it off right. The little pub they'd been recommended would be just the first stop on their quest to drink the town dry. But it was a great start.

McDaids was almost just another little pub on a corner, but it reeked of fame even before they stepped in. Its walls were covered with paintings, photographs, and old-time advertisements which drew the eye in circles. There were less than a dozen seats at its aged walnut bar, whose face was decorated with floral panels and reeked of Irish tradition. Yet its shelves remained a densely populated city of treats, whose alcoholic residents slowly disappeared as the minutes swam by.

The first tinges of twilight filtered in through the windows of the crowded space. Every cushioned stool and booth were taken, and the bar was crowded like a ticket line for the World Cup. Its atmosphere lacked any frills, but their group made up for it in spades. Laughter, some Irish drinking songs, and bright smiles echoed around the packed pub as drinks were passed like handshakes.

"Thank the lord our next shipment comes tomorrow," the elderly bartender joked as he passed a drink to Fionn.

The lancer quickly chuckled, tossed him far more than the drink was worth, and raised the tall glass of Guinness his way. "I pray we're not overstaying our welcome."

"Me? Complain about your great business? While paying like royalty? Are you mad, sir?" Fionn only chuckled with the bartender as he darted to another end to help another patron. Nearby, Medb, Fergus, and Cu had disappeared amongst the crowd, but the circle of stares and attention was a beacon to their location; The saber's loud laughs also helped.

To his right, Diarmuid kept him company, and George was at his other side. Though they got their fair share of chatter, it was Scathach at his left who garnered another crowd. She remained courteous and surprisingly social, but he quietly marveled at how easily she maneuvered her way to a polite turndown from the many approaching smitten. It likely helped he sat beside her as a sort of deterrent.

"Well now, so you're the other new faces." Not that it stopped him from getting certain attention himself. He turned to look over his shoulder, and Diarmuid did too as a woman actually dared to slide her hands onto their shoulders. Her eyes were ablaze with amorous, star-struck desire. Had it not been aimed mostly on himself, Fionn would have wondered if Diarmuid's makeup wore off.

Yet the brunette was most certainly eyeing them both like candy, but was hardly the first or last. "You fine things new to town?"

"It's been a long time, but we're from around here," Fionn answered calmly as he gauged where this may or should lead. "What about you? Did such a fine flower bloom in Dublin or the country?"

"I had a cozy gaff in Northern Ireland, but now I have my own here. It was hard finding modelling work, but it sure pays in nice ways."

Fionn's eyebrow rose, and Diarmuid glanced to him with hidden nervousness he missed. "Modelling you say? I might have guessed since you're so easy on the eyes."

His thoughts moved automatically on his next words. He should've stopped himself, but already he was considering mentioning his new spot as the Stitch Witches' first male model. He could always turn it around to smoothly flatter her further without coming on too hard. But she was already enamored, so he might just be wasting time with the slow approach. Before he realized it, his wizened, soul-searched thoughts were buried beneath a growing web of tactical options.

That look of desire already had him like a net. She was such a beautiful brunette, whose dark black dress claimed her like he wanted to. His blue eyes pierced her, like her matching pair did for him. His heart urged him forward for what could be, and whispered sweet reassurances this could be something beautiful.

…All while his wise mind tried to breakthrough the rampant thoughts like an encircling army of chimeras. Even though his instincts and desires fell infatuated with the growing idea of yet another beautiful woman as his wife, all his pondering in Chaldea yelled otherwise. That he often fell into trouble with women, and he finally acknowledged his possessive and jealous feelings had a hand in his cards. Yet, as far as his thoughts and acknowledgements had come, he was falling prey to his whims again.

He shouldn't be pursuing, but it was so naturally- "Move aside! Queen coming through!"

Medb's cheerful command roused chuckles as the short queen popped through the crowd to push to the bar beside him. She stole the brunette's attention momentarily, and they shared a quick wave. "Oh, hey! You met the other boys I told you about! Oh, careful of the blonde one! He gets pretty clingy!"

Diarmuid's eyes flashed with sympathy, but the blunt comment was more than enough to drive a stake through the runaway instincts leading him on. His wizened mind took the reins. He tossed a wounded but teasing expression towards Medb, who only winked and stuck her tongue out. He chuckled instead, "I've been working on that, you know. I can't have that jealousy stop me from shining brighter these days!"

"Sure, whatever you say, Finian," Medb flatly dismissed with her teasing tone. It irritated, amused, and allured him all at once. Still, she winked to him as the bartender came over to get her drink. "But on the off chance you mean it, show me your first swimsuit spreads. Maybe we'll negotiate after."

"Negotiating? I thought you had a revolving door." Scathach's sudden jab was enough to make Medb turn to her with a pout.

The beautiful lancer only smiled back tauntingly, and before he knew it, they fell into a natural argument again while the bartender waited for a drink order. The brunette's attention was stolen by the two women, as was everyone else's. Fionn's heart mourned in dismay, but his mind agreed with Diarmuid's thankful but sympathetic smile: He was stopped in time.

It was apparent, despite all his pondering and acknowledgements, he still had a long way to go himself.

Everyone had their problems. Even in Ireland, as isolated and charming as it was, had its issues; The Troubles Medb grew so interested reading was one example. Yet, despite the lingering feelings about the recent turmoil, it was often hard to see those frustrations among so many smiling faces enjoying the present for what it was. He would too, because his own work in progress could continue later.

For now, he raised his glass to his redeemed knight, and eyed George to join them. Three glasses clinked together just as Fergus' hearty laughter echoed from further within the crowded pub. They'd soon lost themselves in another conversation, which changed and paused with every greeter. The thoughts of the past drifted off among the lively bliss of the present. The last of the lingering angst was drowned out the natural, Celtic way.

With a pint in hand and laughter on the lips.