Muinín (Faith) Pt 4/whatever
Title: Muinín (Faith)
Status: Pt 4/whatever
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Some slight angst. SLIGHT. Just for character development, kids...
Kurt had huddled himself on the bed, sniffling, eyes rimmed red from crying. It had been years since he had cried about his mother, but something about tonight had just...knocked everything loose. He felt the bed shift, and suddenly saw curls and hazel eyes staring him right in the face. Kurt couldn't help but smile. Blaine moved a piece of hair out of Kurt's eyes, and raised an eyebrow. "You ok, sweetie?"
Kurt sniffled out a word that Blaine assumed was "no," and Blaine couldn't help but let a giggle escape his lips. He playfully sighed and dramatically flopped down onto the bed next to Kurt. "Hey…you can tell me, you know. If the ritual was too much for you, I should have asked you, I know the witchcraft thing that Brienne does freaks you out, and I'm not a witch, I promise you-"
"NO! No, no…it was weird, yeah, but that's not why I'm crying, I don't think…oh I don't know…" Kurt sighed, and hooked a finger into one of Blaine's curls, springing it back and forth, feeling the texture between his fingers. He loved how Blaine's multi-ethnicity showed in his hair; the thickness of the Pacific Islander, but the hair itself was smooth and fine, the Irish taking full hold there. Everything on Blaine seemed almost supernatural. He was too perfect, and while he knew he was only human, and that he had scars of both the physical and emotional kind, he had this sort of aura, this glow about him, golden, like sunlight, like the warmth of the islands of his family, his eyes the rich forest gold of an Irish autumn.
"Kurt…hunny…tell me what's wrong." Kurt looked up, his eyes just a bit too glasz, almost unnaturally so, his skin so pale, glowing so, it was as if the moon herself had rested within him. Blaine blinked a few times, not used to seeing him so…no, not angelic, because that was every other day, this was different…it was almost as if he were the creatures his Pa Tierney would tell him and Kieran when they were little…the Tuatha de Danaan, that's it.
"My mom. Rebecca Elizabeth Hummel. She loved Halloween, hell, she loved the fall. Everything about it. The leaves, the decorations, the planning for Thanksgiving. She was such a homebody, from what I can remember and have been told. She was just so…beautiful. I'm thinking of changing my middle name to Elizabeth. It's not really that you know. It's Elias, but I feel it's not as close to honoring her as I want to. She was beautiful. Tall, lithe, wavy brown hair that almost shone red. Her eyes were like mine, blue-green-grey, and she was pale, but had a sprinkling of freckles on her face. Or, at least that's how my Dad describes her.
"She was very proud of her heritage. She was English and Irish, the German is all my father. She was a very proud Protestant, but could get over it for St. Patrick's Day. Sure, she wore orange out of tradition, but she loved everything about it. She wanted to come up here, to New England, and spend the late autumn early winter here. See the trees, watch the first snow falls. She loved New Hampshire, I guess. I think that's where they honeymooned.
I don't remember how she died, I was still pretty young. I only have faint memories of her. Cooking turkey. Raking leaves with Dad, and hopping into the piles with me after, and Dad would just shake his head. I remember cuddling with her on the couch…after that, everything's just kind of foggy. I don't know if I just don't remember, or if I won't let myself…I was really young…"
Blaine sighed, watching as tears trailed down Kurt's face. He wiped them away, and whispered "hey, if it makes you feel better, you can play with my hair, since it's growing out…" Kurt grinned, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. "You sure? Won't it make it all…frizzy?" Blaine smirked. "Just go for it, sweetie."
"Blaine?" He shook his head, and looked over to the door. Kieran waved and Brienne stuck her head in, raising an eyebrow at Blaine, almost silently asking if it was ok to walk in. Blaine nodded, absentmindedly tracing his fingers on Kurt's arm, chuckling when he heard Kurt whisper out "boing" as he pulled at one of Blaine's curls, watching it spring away from him. Brienne smirked and looked to Blaine. "He's lost it. He's gone daffy. This is why we need to ground and stuff before and after rituals, Kurt's not used to it." Kurt looked up, shooting a glare of "excuse me" before preoccupying himself with a rather prominent curl draped over one of Blaine's eyes. Blaine smiled and then looked back to Brienne, shrugging. He knew where this conversation would lead.
"Brienne, I don't really want to talk about witchcraft right now. I go in on rituals every now and then, but that's it. It's an interesting faith, but I don't know…it doesn't seem to be the right path for me."
Brienne scoffed, going "Blaine. What did you ask for last Samhain?"
Blaine sighed, watching Kurt start to doze off, the events of the night starting to get to him, a curl still slightly wrapped around a finger. A sigh slipped from their lips; one in contentment, one in defeat. "Someone to love me the way that Mika did, and for me to love them just as equally. To be happy."
"That's the Goddess giving you Her answer! She was there for you, Blaine, you can't ignore that!"
Kieran motioned for Brienne to sit on the floor with him, watching Blaine as he left a kiss on Kurt's forehead. "Brienne, leave it alone. What faith means to y'may mean something totally different to Blaine." Brienne huffed and nodded, knowing that was Kieran's way of telling her to shut up and leave it alone. She stood up, and left the room. "Blaine, don't take it personal when Brienne asks about finding your faith. Brienne is used to creideamh. You, however, have muinín."
Blaine's eyebrows furrowed, as he wasn't very good with Gaelic, a fact he had hoped Kieran remembered. "Translate please?"
The black haired boy smirked. "They both mean faith, cousin. Just…different meanings. Creideamh means faith, like, religious. Muinín, on the other hand, means trust. Like, to have faith in someone or something working. Like how I have a feeling that ye and the little gelfling over there are gonna work out just fine." Kieran grinned. "Seriously. How did you manage to find yourself a faerie boy?"
Blaine jokingly punched Kieran in the arm. "I din' mean it as an insult, he looks like a bloody Sidhe!" Blaine smirked, watching Kieran ruffle his hair with his fingers, stretching into a yawn that exposed the slight tattoo Kieran had on his ribs. Tierney family crest. "I'm headin ta bed, cousin. Have a good night, and take care of yer elf, he seems bloody tuckered. Brienne can do that to a person."
Blaine nodded, thinking about the words Kieran had said, Creideamh and muinín. Faith. The word that had always ruled his life back in Columbus, and eventually, Westerville, was courage. Xра́брость, Khrabrost', as Mika would say. Maybe faith was what he needed for his new life in Boston, especially a new life that involved Kurt.
Status: Pt 4/whatever
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Some slight angst. SLIGHT. Just for character development, kids...
Kurt had huddled himself on the bed, sniffling, eyes rimmed red from crying. It had been years since he had cried about his mother, but something about tonight had just...knocked everything loose. He felt the bed shift, and suddenly saw curls and hazel eyes staring him right in the face. Kurt couldn't help but smile. Blaine moved a piece of hair out of Kurt's eyes, and raised an eyebrow. "You ok, sweetie?"
Kurt sniffled out a word that Blaine assumed was "no," and Blaine couldn't help but let a giggle escape his lips. He playfully sighed and dramatically flopped down onto the bed next to Kurt. "Hey…you can tell me, you know. If the ritual was too much for you, I should have asked you, I know the witchcraft thing that Brienne does freaks you out, and I'm not a witch, I promise you-"
"NO! No, no…it was weird, yeah, but that's not why I'm crying, I don't think…oh I don't know…" Kurt sighed, and hooked a finger into one of Blaine's curls, springing it back and forth, feeling the texture between his fingers. He loved how Blaine's multi-ethnicity showed in his hair; the thickness of the Pacific Islander, but the hair itself was smooth and fine, the Irish taking full hold there. Everything on Blaine seemed almost supernatural. He was too perfect, and while he knew he was only human, and that he had scars of both the physical and emotional kind, he had this sort of aura, this glow about him, golden, like sunlight, like the warmth of the islands of his family, his eyes the rich forest gold of an Irish autumn.
"Kurt…hunny…tell me what's wrong." Kurt looked up, his eyes just a bit too glasz, almost unnaturally so, his skin so pale, glowing so, it was as if the moon herself had rested within him. Blaine blinked a few times, not used to seeing him so…no, not angelic, because that was every other day, this was different…it was almost as if he were the creatures his Pa Tierney would tell him and Kieran when they were little…the Tuatha de Danaan, that's it.
"My mom. Rebecca Elizabeth Hummel. She loved Halloween, hell, she loved the fall. Everything about it. The leaves, the decorations, the planning for Thanksgiving. She was such a homebody, from what I can remember and have been told. She was just so…beautiful. I'm thinking of changing my middle name to Elizabeth. It's not really that you know. It's Elias, but I feel it's not as close to honoring her as I want to. She was beautiful. Tall, lithe, wavy brown hair that almost shone red. Her eyes were like mine, blue-green-grey, and she was pale, but had a sprinkling of freckles on her face. Or, at least that's how my Dad describes her.
"She was very proud of her heritage. She was English and Irish, the German is all my father. She was a very proud Protestant, but could get over it for St. Patrick's Day. Sure, she wore orange out of tradition, but she loved everything about it. She wanted to come up here, to New England, and spend the late autumn early winter here. See the trees, watch the first snow falls. She loved New Hampshire, I guess. I think that's where they honeymooned.
I don't remember how she died, I was still pretty young. I only have faint memories of her. Cooking turkey. Raking leaves with Dad, and hopping into the piles with me after, and Dad would just shake his head. I remember cuddling with her on the couch…after that, everything's just kind of foggy. I don't know if I just don't remember, or if I won't let myself…I was really young…"
Blaine sighed, watching as tears trailed down Kurt's face. He wiped them away, and whispered "hey, if it makes you feel better, you can play with my hair, since it's growing out…" Kurt grinned, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. "You sure? Won't it make it all…frizzy?" Blaine smirked. "Just go for it, sweetie."
"Blaine?" He shook his head, and looked over to the door. Kieran waved and Brienne stuck her head in, raising an eyebrow at Blaine, almost silently asking if it was ok to walk in. Blaine nodded, absentmindedly tracing his fingers on Kurt's arm, chuckling when he heard Kurt whisper out "boing" as he pulled at one of Blaine's curls, watching it spring away from him. Brienne smirked and looked to Blaine. "He's lost it. He's gone daffy. This is why we need to ground and stuff before and after rituals, Kurt's not used to it." Kurt looked up, shooting a glare of "excuse me" before preoccupying himself with a rather prominent curl draped over one of Blaine's eyes. Blaine smiled and then looked back to Brienne, shrugging. He knew where this conversation would lead.
"Brienne, I don't really want to talk about witchcraft right now. I go in on rituals every now and then, but that's it. It's an interesting faith, but I don't know…it doesn't seem to be the right path for me."
Brienne scoffed, going "Blaine. What did you ask for last Samhain?"
Blaine sighed, watching Kurt start to doze off, the events of the night starting to get to him, a curl still slightly wrapped around a finger. A sigh slipped from their lips; one in contentment, one in defeat. "Someone to love me the way that Mika did, and for me to love them just as equally. To be happy."
"That's the Goddess giving you Her answer! She was there for you, Blaine, you can't ignore that!"
Kieran motioned for Brienne to sit on the floor with him, watching Blaine as he left a kiss on Kurt's forehead. "Brienne, leave it alone. What faith means to y'may mean something totally different to Blaine." Brienne huffed and nodded, knowing that was Kieran's way of telling her to shut up and leave it alone. She stood up, and left the room. "Blaine, don't take it personal when Brienne asks about finding your faith. Brienne is used to creideamh. You, however, have muinín."
Blaine's eyebrows furrowed, as he wasn't very good with Gaelic, a fact he had hoped Kieran remembered. "Translate please?"
The black haired boy smirked. "They both mean faith, cousin. Just…different meanings. Creideamh means faith, like, religious. Muinín, on the other hand, means trust. Like, to have faith in someone or something working. Like how I have a feeling that ye and the little gelfling over there are gonna work out just fine." Kieran grinned. "Seriously. How did you manage to find yourself a faerie boy?"
Blaine jokingly punched Kieran in the arm. "I din' mean it as an insult, he looks like a bloody Sidhe!" Blaine smirked, watching Kieran ruffle his hair with his fingers, stretching into a yawn that exposed the slight tattoo Kieran had on his ribs. Tierney family crest. "I'm headin ta bed, cousin. Have a good night, and take care of yer elf, he seems bloody tuckered. Brienne can do that to a person."
Blaine nodded, thinking about the words Kieran had said, Creideamh and muinín. Faith. The word that had always ruled his life back in Columbus, and eventually, Westerville, was courage. Xра́брость, Khrabrost', as Mika would say. Maybe faith was what he needed for his new life in Boston, especially a new life that involved Kurt.