On The Road Again - A quick Llyr snippet
Aug. 22nd, 2008 09:16 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
richardiii.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
zg_shadowsSo my friend Kyuu, who I lived with in Torquay for a while recently wrote a little ficlet about her Garou character Shiki the shadowlord. Shiki was one of the characters in the TT game Llyr was created for and thus was one of Llyr's original packmates. I'm trying to convince Kyuu to come join us at ZG sometime and bring Shiki along. Anyway Reading the fic made me want to write a fic about Llyr in a similar vein and hence I wrote the following. The original fic Kyuu wrote is Here
Llyr sat with his back resting against the side of the old building. His legs were spread out widely and in his hands he held a single roll up joint – it was made of cheap tobacco and some pretty bad quality dried up hash Llyr had picked up on his last trip through Dublin, but it was doing its job well enough.
“Now that...” Llyr exhaled deeply, blowing a long puff of marijuana flavored vapors into the air “Is some quality blow.”
He'd been on the road for five days now, and he was, if he was being honest, growing a bit on the lonesome side. This wasn't who he was.
He was a traveler, obviously, traveling and being on the road was in his blood. But not alone, you traveled with your gang, you traveled with your family, you didn't go it alone. That wasn't how it worked, that wasn't the travelers life. Still, he had to do this, because just being a traveller wasn't who he was either.
Of course he was also a 'dog' as he often so succinctly put it. A garou as the others always said, which Llyr always secretly thought was really a stupid word. Like trying to mix a quick growl with a cliché wolfs howl. Quite daft. There was a lot of things in wolf society that Llyr thought were silly. The litany for a start, what the fuck was that all about? Garou won't mate with other garou, total bollocks! If you fancy someone, and they fancy you, then lets make with the shifting for Pete's sake. And if your afraid of creating metis then shift to homid and use a fucking johnny, its not that difficult, really it isn't. Still he kept all that to himself, and besides, for all its faults, he loved being a dog. Gifts taught by spirits, now that's good stuff! And Crinos, god he loved the whole Crinos thing. And best of all, he did love the comradery, the friendship, the pack nature of the whole thing. He would loved it if Neachtan and Patches was here, or Shiki and Ragweed, all of whom he considered his brothers. But they couldn't be there now, they couldn't help with this one, he had to do it alone, because being a dog, or “grrr-oooooooou”, whatever the fuck we wanted to call it, was not who he was either.
He was a family man, fiercely loyal to those he considered his own. He was a boxer, his right and left hooks were well known in traveller tournaments. He was a storyteller, learning, retelling and weaving myths and legends that delighted all who would hear. And of course he was a lover, his fae maiden, inspiring his dreams and thoughts. But none of these were really him either. These weren't who he was.
That was why he had to make these little investigations, all alone, hopping from bus to bus, travelling the length and breadth of Ireland in search of his lineage. Since his first change, his family had drilled into him that he was descended from CuChullain. Greatest of all Irish heroes. Greatest of all the Fianna legends. Yet apart from a fetish Hurley they had given him, he had no proof. He believed he was CuChullain's heir, he could feel it inside, but he didn't know, he needed that proof, he needed to know for sure, and that's why he had to do this. Follow the trail of clues to trace his ancestors.
There was the sound of an engine, and Llyr saw the bus coming up the motorway to the outskirts of this small village where the connection was. He put out the joint and stood up, catching his reflection in the window of the building he'd been leaning up against for a moment.
“Who the fuck are you anyway?” He asked his reflection. There was no response but the bus stopping and the door opening to let him on.
Next stop Gort, and probably, more questions than answers
On The Road Again
Llyr sat with his back resting against the side of the old building. His legs were spread out widely and in his hands he held a single roll up joint – it was made of cheap tobacco and some pretty bad quality dried up hash Llyr had picked up on his last trip through Dublin, but it was doing its job well enough.
“Now that...” Llyr exhaled deeply, blowing a long puff of marijuana flavored vapors into the air “Is some quality blow.”
He'd been on the road for five days now, and he was, if he was being honest, growing a bit on the lonesome side. This wasn't who he was.
He was a traveler, obviously, traveling and being on the road was in his blood. But not alone, you traveled with your gang, you traveled with your family, you didn't go it alone. That wasn't how it worked, that wasn't the travelers life. Still, he had to do this, because just being a traveller wasn't who he was either.
Of course he was also a 'dog' as he often so succinctly put it. A garou as the others always said, which Llyr always secretly thought was really a stupid word. Like trying to mix a quick growl with a cliché wolfs howl. Quite daft. There was a lot of things in wolf society that Llyr thought were silly. The litany for a start, what the fuck was that all about? Garou won't mate with other garou, total bollocks! If you fancy someone, and they fancy you, then lets make with the shifting for Pete's sake. And if your afraid of creating metis then shift to homid and use a fucking johnny, its not that difficult, really it isn't. Still he kept all that to himself, and besides, for all its faults, he loved being a dog. Gifts taught by spirits, now that's good stuff! And Crinos, god he loved the whole Crinos thing. And best of all, he did love the comradery, the friendship, the pack nature of the whole thing. He would loved it if Neachtan and Patches was here, or Shiki and Ragweed, all of whom he considered his brothers. But they couldn't be there now, they couldn't help with this one, he had to do it alone, because being a dog, or “grrr-oooooooou”, whatever the fuck we wanted to call it, was not who he was either.
He was a family man, fiercely loyal to those he considered his own. He was a boxer, his right and left hooks were well known in traveller tournaments. He was a storyteller, learning, retelling and weaving myths and legends that delighted all who would hear. And of course he was a lover, his fae maiden, inspiring his dreams and thoughts. But none of these were really him either. These weren't who he was.
That was why he had to make these little investigations, all alone, hopping from bus to bus, travelling the length and breadth of Ireland in search of his lineage. Since his first change, his family had drilled into him that he was descended from CuChullain. Greatest of all Irish heroes. Greatest of all the Fianna legends. Yet apart from a fetish Hurley they had given him, he had no proof. He believed he was CuChullain's heir, he could feel it inside, but he didn't know, he needed that proof, he needed to know for sure, and that's why he had to do this. Follow the trail of clues to trace his ancestors.
There was the sound of an engine, and Llyr saw the bus coming up the motorway to the outskirts of this small village where the connection was. He put out the joint and stood up, catching his reflection in the window of the building he'd been leaning up against for a moment.
“Who the fuck are you anyway?” He asked his reflection. There was no response but the bus stopping and the door opening to let him on.
Next stop Gort, and probably, more questions than answers
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-08-22 04:54 pm (UTC)Please god never, ever say that where Sulien can hear you...
I like the idea of his search for his roots, though.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-23 03:02 am (UTC)He will have made no secret about the fact he's been spending short periods throughout the four years in Ireland searching for clues about his lineage and whether he is descended from the Big C or not. What he finds out I don't know yet as I had to refrain from infseek after year two until I return and am able to tak to STs personaly about it all :)