grand_fallguy: (smilin tim)
[personal profile] grand_fallguy
Timothy A. Desmond, a native of Brooklyn New York had never given any thought to his family history. He could never even remember his mother's maiden name. And for much of his life, the less thought he gave to his father, the better. He and his mother had both believed that the man had walked out on them when he was a child.

It wasn't until the Fae began to return to the world of Mortals, that he learned the truth. That his father had somehow wandered into a pocket dimension called the Leeside, where all the various mystical creatures that had emigrated to the US had been banished. There, he'd been drafted through his own innate heroism into serving as the Leeside's sole champion.

Tim himself had become forcibly aware of his Irish roots, when the family Banshee, a lovely and passionate young woman named Teleri had begun to preemptively mourn his death.

And now here he was, in the land of his forefathers, studying that very history, and working on a thesis regarding it, and Irish Emigration, and drinking Guinness with a visiting professor. Professor Ronan O'Mara was a legend in the Irish Academic world. He taught history, mythology and folklore. He'd traveled through the country back in the 50's (or was it 60's?) as a wandering storyteller. It was rumored that his parentage had been unconventional, that his father had in fact, impregnated his wife's sister, because his wife would not survive pregnancy.

Not surprisingly therefore, he was one of the few people Tim had ever met, who could perceive the Fae world around them.

"It's not so common in the cities." O'Mara said. Here outside the classroom he lost his lecturing tone, but still came across as one addressing an audience. "But all across Europe you can find remnants of the old ways. There's roads that've had to be diverted so they didn't interfere with the Fae. I can show you on any map the odd twists, or placements of towns. And yet," He took a sip of his Guinness, "It seems as though even the people who believe in them, can't see what's right in front of them."

"Are you so sure?" Tim challenged him. "Maybe they're just pretending so other people won't think they're crazy. The folks back in New York have gotten really good at that."

"Well you may have something there." O'Mara mused. "My aunt Kate, Godresther, swore she never saw the man my Grandfather addressed as Harvey-"

Tim couldn't help a snort of laughter. O'Mara smiled. "Yes I know. But I'm certain she twitched a smile when she heard the creature speak that name."

"I guess since you never had a break from them, you never got a shock from it." Tim went on. "When people came to America, it wasn't, uh, cool, to believe in stuff like Fairies. So for almost a century we were separated from them. So when the came back, we didn't know how to deal."

"Well it seems you've done a fine job young Lord Desmond."

Tim wasn't entirely happy with that nickname, but it was a hell of a lot better than "Grand and Puissant Champion of the Fae".

August 2017

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