pristine...

who: @s0undwcves where: outside of a random store

Niamh froze for half a heartbeat when the kid’s tiny hand dipped into her pocket, then looked down to see a preschooler staring up at her with all the guilt of a damp kitten. She blinked, then let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Jesus,” she muttered, taking the returned item and tucking it back where it belonged. “He’s got quicker hands than half the lads I grew up with.” She crouched a little so she was eye level with the boy, giving him a look that was stern but not actually scary. “Oi, you. If you’re gonna nick things, at least pick somethin’ worth the trouble. All you’d get off me is lint and a half-melted sweet.” Straightening again, she glanced at Elijah with a lopsided smirk. “Don’t look too mortified. Could be worse. Could be bitin’ strangers or throwin’ rocks. Pickpocketin’s practically charming by comparison.” She tilted her head, studying him for a second. “Besides, the way he moved? Yeah, you might actually have a future billionaire on your hands. Or a magician. Or a criminal mastermind. Depends how you parent him, I suppose.”

STATUS: closed for @s0undwcves LOCATION: The Taproom

Niamh glanced up from her drink, sizing him up the way she did everyone in this town she didn’t recognize yet: quick, sharp, assessing, but not unkind. She took in the crowded bar, the way he hovered like he was ready to bolt at the slightest hint of rejection, and let out a soft huff through her nose. “Seat’s empty,” she said, nudging it with her boot. “If it wasn’t, I’d have told you already.” She shifted her bag off the stool leg so he could actually sit, then raised an eyebrow at the mess of people swarming the place. She took another sip of her drink before adding, “But go on, sit. Whole place feels like half the town’s crawled into it. I thought small towns were supposed to be quiet or whatever, but apparently everyone here treats a bar like a family reunion.” Her eyes flicked toward him again, softer this time. “You from here? Or are you one of the other poor souls who washed up in this place without meanin’ to?”

She was giving him the stare, so he thought he might as well get on with it. He absentmindedly pet Declan, hearing his soft purrs. He furrowed his brow, trying to find the right words to continue. “Wouldn’t call you for nothin’, Nims. Promise.” He let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head side to side. “Your brain is a crazy place, Niamh. No. I did not join a feckin’ football gang. I don’t have the constitution for all that, and you know it.” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes filled with something they hadn’t seen in a little while. “Brandon Murray. He played for Arsenal and retired, sort of suddenly. Really good player. I’d seen him play, a handful of times when I was with Charlie. And… I don’t know. He was sitting at the bar with a notebook, jotting some things down. I was the one who spotted him, and I couldn’t stop myself. Not like he was out of place, per say, but still strange to see him in Cider, of all places. Turns out he’s been here for a bit, so I’m truly the newcomer.” He paused, a bit of a blush on his face. “Ivy thinks he was flirting with me? And I’m not sure… what to do with that, you know? He might just be like that.”

Niamh arms folded tight across her chest as she leaned back into the couch. “Christ almighty, Cill,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “You texted me like your hair was on fire, and it’s because some retired footballer gave you the eyes?” She shook her head, but there was a softness under the sarcasm that was familiar to the pair. “don’t act like that’s the wildest idea I’ve ever had. You get emotional enough and you’d join the feckin’ circus if someone offered you a warm drink and a good cry.” She angled her body toward him, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. She shifted, angling toward him, eyes narrowing as she worked it out in her head. “Brandon Murray? People lost their shite about him every time he scored against United.” Her tone dipped for a second the memory brushing too close to Aidan but she shook it off before it could latch on. She tipped her head, watching him blush with a mix of amusement and concern. “And Ivy, If she clocked flirtin’, there probably was flirtin’. Lads don’t lean in all close over their notebooks for sport. Not sober ones, anyway.” She took a sip from her mug. “So what’s the part that’s actually messin’ with your head? That he might’ve been flirtin’? Or that you might’ve liked that someone was lookin’ at you like that again?” She folded her arms, leaning back with an assessing look. “Listen. Maybe he is just like that. Maybe he’s one of those lads who flirts with the wallpaper. But if he was givin’ you eyes? And if you noticed enough to even bring it up? Then there’s somethin’ there.” She softened then, barely. “I’m just sayin’ you talked to someone new. Someone who wasn’t Charlie. Someone who didn’t make you shrink. and you’re lightin’ up talkin’ about him. You haven’t looked like that over anythin’ in ages.” She shrugged, but it was softer than her usual bite. A smirk settled at her mouth. “So. No panickin’. No plannin’ your wedding. Just—” she lifted her mug again “maybe let yourself enjoy the fact that a very fit retired footballer might think you’re cute.”

Cillian was currently pacing. His mind felt awoken from a dormant slumber, and he needed to tell someone, immediately. He had already texted Ivy, but of course, the first person he reached out to was Niamh. He expected her any moment, and now that she had his spare key, he knew she’d find her way in. He heard the kettle start to scream, and he got the mugs out, preparing tea just the way their gran would make it. He heard his little sister before he saw her, and let out a huff, holding out the mug as a form of peace offering. “I know, I know. And you know I’m not even good with my phone, so this wasn’t just… for laughs.” He groaned, ushering her over to the couch as he sat, mug of tea placed on a side table and Declan immediately in his lap. “Well, I was out at the bar the other night. Usual affair, me and my lyrics book and far too many whiskeys. No tears, though. So that’s a start! But I ran into someone… familiar. We’d never met before, not properly, but one of Charlie’s old rivals, as it happens.”

Niamh took the mug without ceremony, mostly so she had something warm to hold while she tried to figure out whether he was about to say something mental or actually important. She sat, dropped her bag on the floor like it offended her, and gave him that flat, older-than-her-years stare. “ Alright, ” she said, blowing across the tea. “ So this wasn’t a sock emergency. Grand. ” She took a sip, then eyed him over the rim of the mug. “ met one of Charlie’s rivals ? Jesus, Cill, if this ends with you tellin’ me you joined a feckin’ football gang, I’m walkin’ straight back out. ” But she leaned in a little anyway, because she could feel the buzzing under his words, that restless spark she hadn’t seen in him in a long while. “ Who was he then? ” she asked, setting the mug down. “ And what’s this about recognizin’ him ? Don’t tell me he came up to you talkin’ about goals from 2014 like it was a war story. ” Her tone softened just a hair, the way it always did when she finally clocked her brother was wound up for a reason. “ Start from the beginnin’. ”

Closed Starter for @s0undwcves Location: The Taproom

Niamh looked up from her drink, one brow lifting as she caught him circling like a shark that didn’t know what it wanted. When he finally asked, she let out a small laugh through her nose, not mean, just amused he’d worked up the nerve. “ Ah, so that’s what all the laps were about, ” she said, leaning her elbow on the bar. “ Thought you were trainin’ for a marathon or lookin’ for a spilled drink to mop up. ” She tipped her head slightly, letting the Irish lilt hit a little stronger on purpose. “ I’m from Dublin. Actual Ireland, not the American version where everyone’s great-great-somethin’ came over on a boat. ” She smirked into her glass. “ Why ? You collect accents for sport or somethin’ ? ”

Niamh let out a quiet, incredulous laugh and shook her head like she couldn’t believe this was her life right now. “ Christ above, you’re bold, ” she said, not offended, just amused, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself. She eyed the wiggled phone, then the woman holding it, then the phone again. Eventually she sighed and stepped a little closer. ” At beautiful exotic lady, she snorted hard enough that her shoulders jumped. “ Exotic ? Jesus, I’m from Dublin, not a rainforest. ” Her tone softened though, playful in its own blunt way. “ Name’s Niamh. You can call me that instead of whatever National Geographic title you’re tryin’ to give me. ” She hooked a thumb toward the phone. “ Go on then. Let’s see if your magic GPS can get me where I’m goin’ before I embarrass myself further. ”

Nora doesn't usually do this — approach people in public, especially not when she's so confident the look on their face says they don't really want to be bothered. Still, seeing this particular stranger sat under the tree, canvas in hand, is a sight she doesn't usually see, so she's determined to match that energy herself.

She shifted a little on the grass, not guarding the canvas exactly, but not exactly welcoming either. “ Painting in the Park ? ” she echoed, squinting like she wasn’t sure if that was a real event or some American nonsense people invented to justify day-drinking. “ Right. Well, good to know I’m not breakin’ any laws then. Last thing I need is gettin’ arrested for paintin'. ” But the tension in her shoulders eased when she saw Nora’s sketchbook. Something about the way she held it softly, carefully, like it was worn from being used instead of for show cut through Niamh’s instinct to bite first and ask questions later. She nodded toward the book with a little flick of her chin. “ You can look. ” She slid her canvas slightly to the side so Nora could see not offering it up like a prize, just not hiding it the way she usually did. “ And a trade’s fair, ” she added. “ Artists’ honor or whatever. ” She nudged a patch of grass beside her with her foot. “ Nora without an h. You can sit, if you want. ”

“do  you  want  me  to  insult  you  back  ?”  he  deadpans,  defaulting  to  the  same  maneuvers  he'd  use  on  his  siblings.  he's  sure  she  doesn't,  but  sometimes  we  all  need  to  be  reminded.  “new  places  can  feel  like  that,”  he  agrees,  hands  stuffed  into  his  pockets  to  fight  off  the  breeze.  he  walks  in  silence  for  a  short  distance,  letting  the  passing  scenery  of  cider  point  fill  in  the  gaps  for  him.  thinks  it  might  be  better  to  give  her  a  few  beats  of  space.  “oh,  so  you  mean  if  i  need  a  cup  of  flour  you're  not  gonna  give  it  to  me  ?"  he  jokes,  head  turning  toward  her,  "even  after  i  directed  you  through  this  big  old  maze  ?”

Niamh gave him a sideways look, the kind that landed somewhere between a warning and a laugh. “ If you insult me, I’ll cry dramatically in the middle of the street and you’ll have to explain it to strangers, ” she said, dry as stone but not actually bothered. “ So unless you’re lookin’ to ruin your own day, I’d keep that one in your pocket. ” She kept walking, boots scuffing against the pavement, letting the quiet settle for a few steps. “ Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’d survive without my flour. I’ve seen grown men do more with less. ” She flicked her hand in a loose gesture. “ But no, I’m not givin’ you any. Mostly because I don’t bake and I don’t actually know if I even own flour. ” She finally glanced over at him, a reluctant smirk tugging at her mouth. “ And don’t get smug over the directions. I’d have figured it out eventually. Maybe with more trespassing. Maybe with tears. Who’s to say ? ” A small smile comes out. “ But fine. You earned somethin’. If you show up needin’ flour, I won’t slam the door in your face. I’ll just make fun of you while I hand it over. ”

Niamh blinked at her, a little thrown by the confidence, then let out a small huff that was more tired than annoyed. “ Right. well, I never actually told you an address, ” she said, voice still edged but not biting. “ You just sort of guessed and ran with it. ” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, shifting her weight. “ And the phone isn’t that bad. It’s was just havin’ a moment and then died. Happens to the best of us, even if you don’t look like the type to admit it. ” Her tone stayed dry, but her posture loosened a bit. “ Don’t worry, I’m not payin’ anyone to guide me around town. I’d rather get lost than hand cash to some fella who thinks I’m an easy mark. ” a reluctant shrug. “ I’m lookin’ for Electric Avenue. Supposed to be near enough, but your streets like to play tricks. If you know the way, grand. If not, I’ll keep tryin’ till I land in the right spot instead of someone else’s backyard. ”

“do  you  want  me  to  insult  you  back  ?”  he  deadpans,  defaulting  to  the  same  maneuvers  he'd  use  on  his  siblings.  he's  sure  she  doesn't,  but  sometimes  we  all  need  to  be  reminded.  “new  places  can  feel  like  that,”  he  agrees,  hands  stuffed  into  his  pockets  to  fight  off  the  breeze.  he  walks  in  silence  for  a  short  distance,  letting  the  passing  scenery  of  cider  point  fill  in  the  gaps  for  him.  thinks  it  might  be  better  to  give  her  a  few  beats  of  space.  “oh,  so  you  mean  if  i  need  a  cup  of  flour  you're  not  gonna  give  it  to  me  ?"  he  jokes,  head  turning  toward  her,  "even  after  i  directed  you  through  this  big  old  maze  ?”

Niamh huffed out something halfway between a scoff and a laugh, the kind she pretended wasn’t actually a laugh. “ If you insult me, I’ll cry on the spot, ” she said dryly, not sounding even a little bit like she’d actually cry. “ And then you’ll feel like shite, so don’t tempt fate. ” She kept walking beside him, shoulders a little hunched against the breeze, eyes flicking over the street like she still didn’t trust the town not to rearrange itself out of spite. When he joked about the flour, she shot him a sideways look, one brow lifting in that unimpressed Irish way she did without thinking. “ Oh sure, because you’re absolutely the type to show up at a stranger’s door beggin’ for flour like a sitcom neighbour, ” she said, rolling her eyes. “ If you knock on my door for somethin’ like that, I’m slammin’ it in your face out of principle. Doesn’t matter if you saved me from wanderin’ into the sea. ” A beat, then she looked back over at him, the closest she’d get to openly admitting she appreciated the help. “ But maybe— and this is me bein’ generous. maybe I’ll leave the flour outside the door after. Just so you don’t starve to death on my conscience. ”

“hey,  you're  the  one  that  called  it  mythical,  not  me,”  hands  raise  in  defense,  friendly  smile  still  present.  her  irritation  at  his  help  doesn't  phase  him,  simply  reminds  him  of  the  prickly  person  he'd  been  not  too  long  ago.  that  version  of  himself  might  not  be  so  willing  to  help  still,  but  he  was  moving  forward,  LIVING  IN  THE  MOMENT.  electric  avenue  is  typed  into  google  maps  and  toggled  to  ‘  walking,  ’  only  eight  minutes  away.  “it's  really  not  all  that  far.  we  just  have  to  go  a  few  blocks,  i'm  over  on  ocean  avenue  but  we're  still  basically  neighbors,”  shrugs  lightly,  starting  toward  the  directions  on  the  screen.  “how  long  you  been  in  town  ?”

Niamh blew out a breath like she couldn’t believe she was still standing here entertaining this conversation, but her feet didn’t move, so clearly some part of her tolerated him more than she let on. “ Christ above, you’re awful cheerful for someone I’ve insulted twice, ” She muttered as she eyed the phone, then him, then the street ahead, like all three had personally wronged her. “ Yeah, well, it felt mythical, ” she said, rolling her eyes but without the venom from earlier. “ Place disappears every time I turn my head. Thought I was in a feckin’ maze. ” hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets before She nodded at his phone, resigned. “ Lead the way, Ocean Avenue. ” falling into step with him shoulders loosening a fraction now that she wasn’t wandering aimlessly like an idiot. At his question, she gave a half-shrug, half-grimace. “ Five days, ” she said. “ Maybe six if you count the day I spent recoverin’ from the flight and questionin’ all my life choices ” A beat, then she added under her breath, “ So basically nothin’. Still gettin’ laughed at by the street signs. don’t get too excited about the neighbour thing. I’m not exactly good at those. ”

margaret   stops   in   their   tracks   ,   gaze   shifting   back   to   the   tourist   with   an   attitude   problem   .   expression   remains   hardened   because   if   they   think   about   it   too   much   ,   they   might   cry   .   “   it's   fine   ,   ”   she   manages   ,   shifting   her   weight   from   one   foot   to   the   other   .   teeth   gnaw   at   her   lower   lip   ,   as   if   trying   to   elicit   a   resolution   from   within   .   “   you're   an   asshole   .   ”   maybe   that   will   make   her   feel   better   ,   taking   a   slight   jab   back   .   “   does   that   work   for   you   back   home   or   did   they   ship   you   off   here   because   they   couldn't   handle   it   anymore   ?   ”

Niamh stopped too, shoulders tensing like she was deciding whether to bite back or just walk away and save them both the headache. She dragged a hand over her face, muttering something under her breath before looking up at Margaret again, this time with a lot less fire and a lot more worn-out exhaustion. “ Yeah, alright, I deserved that, ” she said, tone still sharp but not aimed like a weapon anymore. “ And for the record, nobody shipped me anywhere. I left on my own. Trust me, people back home would’ve loved if I stayed put. ” Her mouth twitched, not quite a smile, not quite bitterness. “ You caught me on a shite day. Doesn’t excuse it, but there it is. So, congratulations, I’m the asshole. You’re not wrong. ” She took a small step forward, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, her voice losing the edge she’d been clinging to. “ Still didn’t mean to take your head off. Wasn’t about you. I’m just not great at first impressions. ” A beat, then a softer, almost self-deprecating snort. “ Or second ones. Or any of them, really. ”

Niamh planted one foot behind the other so she didn’t trip over the last rogue pencil and tipped her head at the girl, studying her with that sharp, no-nonsense focus she couldn’t turn off even on accident. “ You’re grand, ” she said, waving off the apology like it physically annoyed her. “ If a few pencils are the worst thing that happen to me today, I’ll count myself blessed. Nearly took me ankle clean off, but sure, I’ll live. ” She crossed her arms loosely, still giving the girl that dry once-over. “ And don’t panic about the accent. I didn’t crawl out of a postcard, I actually lived there. ” Her mouth twitched, almost a smile. “ I moved here. God help me. Still learnin’ the layout and tryin’ not to get run over every time I cross a street. ” She nodded at the sketchbook. “ You’re fine. Happens. Gravity’s a bastard. Just go easy on the pedestrians next time, yeah ? ”

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Niamh snorted, full-bodied and unfiltered, like the confidence alone was enough to amuse her. “ Right, well, congratulations, ” she said, shifting her weight and eyeing the street Lily pointed at without a shred of faith. “ Good for you knowin’ every corner you’ve cried behind. Truly. ” She lifted her brows, matching Lily’s smug grin with her own brand of unimpressed Irish skepticism. “ But I wasn’t panickin’. I was… assessin’ my options. Which currently seem to be wanderin’ in circles or lettin’ you lead me somewhere. ” She jerked her chin down the block. “ I’m lookin’ for the street I live on. So if you’re actually the direction, prove it. Otherwise I will move back home out of spite. ”