#gabe 01

@gabrielmeadowes​

A son. When the initially prompted visions of Bran had faded, when the questions were answered: that was when the wonder set in. Lovely, isn’t it? To be given something like this after so long of solitude. Faolan’s solitude was the suffocating sort, that much she could tell from even her brief glimpses. So she’s happy. Happy for her husband and happy for this son who, from what she has heard, had so little in the way of nurturing. She didn’t ask much in way of the woman, this lover of Faolan’s and mother of Gabriel’s, and it occurs to her during the walk to the provided address that she may be stepping on toes. But the boy had been raised by nuns, so really, Caoimhe doubts she has much reason to fret. She assures herself of that as she opens the gate (could walk through it, she’s learned, but that seems, frankly, rude) and starts down the pathway. No chance to make it to the door, though, as a man steps out the front door and takes her breath away. “Oh.” Thinner, sure, but he’s Faolan’s son. There’s no doubting that. He has that same sandy hair on him, the mirrored posture, long gait. And she’d bet – yes. Same blue eyes, blown wide, startled, then squinted, suspicious. “So sorry,” the woman offers with a raise of her palms. “I hardly meant to frighten you. I’ve just been told that I, ah...” How to word this one? She hadn’t thought quite that far. Bit of an introduction to make, isn’t it? “Well. I’m Caoimhe.” A decent place to start, but he very well may have no idea who she is. Clarification, then: “Faolan, ah, Meadowes and I were married many years ago. And I suppose I, well... wanted to see my husband’s son for myself. That’s all.”

@muertiician

It was expected that she run into people she didn’t have good connections with while in this city. It was large, and there was no way she could run into people she knew from Overwatch without running into those opposing it. This was a second reunion she didn’t know if she wanted.

Keeping herself hidden from sight, she carefully watched the other. He had grabbed someone off the street for information which is why she was tailing him in the first place. She wanted to make sure he didn’t do any harm---but there also wasn’t much she could do. She was weaponless. But that meant he must be as well. She stood a chance. But she wouldn’t engage if she didn’t have to.

Watching and waiting was the best course of action.

Not that she was allowed to just do that.

Things were getting heated, and as soon as she saw him raise his hand, she moved. Grabbing a hold of his wrist, she tugged it back, making sure she had his attention to let the poor soul he’d grabbed have a moment to flee.

“Stop this, Gabe.” 

@gabrielmeadowes​

It’s rare that someone enters the store just as their doors open. Rare enough that it makes Evi look up from her work and actually wander to the front, though she’s typically much more content in her backroom hideaway. A delivery, maybe? Nope. A dead man – hard to tell which kind, but they’ve all got this strange sort of stillness to them – who looks, frankly, sort of lost. Actually, quite lost. It’s amusing enough, and she doesn’t like to jump down anyone’s throat. So she allows it, perching on the counter and tinkering with the philodendron by the register for a minute or two before she finally cracks. “Morning. Anything I can help you with?” The witch pipes up, still in her seated position, twirling her dangling feet. “Or are you just browsing?” He seems like a man on a mission, really, especially walking in the doors as soon as they’ve opened. But what can she do for the dead? Seems like maybe this is the time to find out. “Oh, uh, tinctures are buy one, get one fifty percent off.” That was the sale, right? Oh, who knows? Mark her down as a lousy saleswoman. “If that’s even what you’re looking for.”