Sealand was trying not to be scared. He was Sealand: he knew no fear ( Read more... )

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[Today, Isabel is in London, and bundled up warm against the ENDLESS SNOW that seems to have decided to assault her dad this year. She's sitting on a bench near the Thames with a notepad out, a pencil held in gloved fingers, and chews her lip thoughtfully before shaking her head and crossing something out decisively.]

No, that's not right...

[ ( Read more... )

Welcome to the Waterford house everyone. It's large and sprawling though still very comfortable and cozy like all good homes should feel. And it's even more cozy than usual since Ireland's been decorating for her annual Christmas party for friends and family. And let's face it, the girl uses such a loose definition of friends that just about ( Read more... )

[Connor had remained at his house in Londonderry after Bill Clinton's visit, feeling a need for a change in scenery for a bit. What he hadn't been expecting... waking up close to midnight with a splitting headache. By morning, he found the explanation on the news. So now, he's sitting in his dark kitchen with a whiskey bottle in hand. Said bottle ( Read more... )

Elliot is pacing the ground outside his Aunt's house in Dublin. He knows she's home, he saw her go in three hours earlier. He just hasn't plucked up the courage to go in yet.

But for a change, Elliot hadn't done anything wrong. Not that Aunt Brigid needed to know anyway. No, he was here for an entirely innocent reason.

He needed advice.

About

[Elliot is planning his latest prank. It's a simple one, but aren't they best? Water ballons and sheep dung. He grinned as he added water to the dung to make them worse and tie them up.

Where were Ifan and Iseult when you needed them?]

[It seems like any other day, but as with every other August 15th for the past twelve years-- two at this spot, since the memorial was built-- Connor ignores the shadows of old pains and scars starting to creep in on his back. A note on his door in Belfast tells any potential visitors that he's gone to Omagh for the weekend. Should anyone go ( Read more... )

[The year is 1972. The date? Friday, July 21st. Welcome to Bloody Friday in a Belfast hospital. Almost an hour has passed since the bombings that afternoon and now Connor's in a small private room, his chest has been bandaged up nice and tight and his arm's up in a sling. Occasional screams echo from up and down the halls, but Connor seems to be ( Read more... )

[It's a nice, warm day in Belfast with clear skies and a light breeze. Most people are outside having a great day. ...But not Connor. Nope, he's sitting at his desk with a piece of paper that's got half a letter written. A few empty liquor bottles litter the floor around him in a sea of crumpled wads of paper. Half a dozen more different liquor ( Read more... )