A little while and we die; shall life not thrive as it may?

The whole 'Dad' thing was, in Liam's opinion, going pretty great. Yeah, they'd had a few hiccups already (and he was sure there would be more to come) but they'd worked past them. And this last weekend, getting to spoil the hell out of tiny baby Nina was really amazing. Even if, yes, thinking about the way she'd been treated growing up made him, quite honestly, furious.

Today wasn't about Nina, however. Well, that was a lie- it kind of was, because he'd told her he wanted to get to know Prompto better, make a real connection to the kid that he hoped would drive home the fact that he had no intention of whisking Nina away or whatever.

And what better way to do that than with an activity that involved running around and shooting at each other? With fake weapons, of course.

[ooc: for the chocobro. no, not that one. the other one. and NFB for distance!]

The last two days in the Kincaid-Price household had been, uh, interesting. First and most obviously, there was the appearance of some animal but not actually animal visitors. There had been Kestrel, of course, and then there'd been who had shown up claiming to belong to Verity:

"Jack."

"Your name is Jack."

"Yup"

"Jack the jackalope?"

"Yup."

The talking part of which wasn't even as startling as it might be for most. And that was because of the mice. Which led to the other really interesting thing: once they'd figured out that these animals- daemons- were in fact extensions of human souls, two schools of thought had immediately formed: those that believed the new arrivals needed to have names bestowed upon them so they could be properly worked into the canon, and those who believed that, as part of their gods, they were already covered, namewise.

That the daemons would likely disappear either tomorrow or in a few days, as is typical with Fandom, Did Not Matter, as it had been pointed out that They Have Always Been There, You Just Did Not Know It. Therefore, they would continue to exist once they've disappeared.

"For does NOT the Pilgrim Priestess search high and low for he God of Empty Rooms and Cold Regrets with no sign of him nor proof he still lives? Is not our entire life based around the faith of That Which We Feel But Can Not See?" remarked one of the acolytes early on in the discussion.

So that was the background noise as Liam (and Kestrel, who wasn't really much help per se but had Opinions) was in the kitchen, preparing some Ginataang Talong with some Deep Fried Cauliflower on the side. The eggplant had finished simmering and now it was just a matter of waiting for the deep fryer to finish as they waited for their guests.

[ooc: for thems that live here or are coming for dinner!]

So early, in fact, that most sensible people would still consider it Sunday night, Liam made his way into the station with a bag full of catnip.

He headed straight for Steve’s desk, where he proceeded to sprinkle some of the bag’s content on the chair, and stashed the rest at the back of the desk’s bottom drawer. His efforts were rewarded when Lasä came sauntering out of the shadows, nose twitching, and then hopped up on the chair and began to roll around, purring all the while.

Liam grinned, giving the station cat a scritch behind the ears before he turned to leave, shutting the lights off and locking the door behind him.

[ooc: NFB and establishy!]

Liam was not brooding. Sure, he hadn't slept particularly well last night, but it wasn't as if that was a particularly unusual occurrence in the Kincaid-Price household. Just because this particular rocky outcropping was the spot he tended to gravitate towards whenever he had something on his mind, that didn't mean anything. He was just enjoying an evening cup of tea outside in the salt air. And occasionally throwing a rock into the ocean to see how far it'd go. You know, normal not-brooding stuff.

[ooc: expecting some memory-sharing frens!]

Between Mother's Day and Memorial Day, since Liam had come back May had kind of felt like one long, emotional gut punch. Having a little more skill at actually, like, processing negative emotions these days made it both easier and harder.

After his regular Monday appointment with the therapist on the mainland, he'd also stopped by the cemetery to pay his respects. No, it wasn't his home dimension, and so none of the people he actually knew were interred there (hell, a lot of them wouldn't have been buried at Arlington anyway, not being part of any recognized military, though they'd been soldiers all the same if you asked Liam), but it didn't actually matter. It wasn't so much about visiting an actual grave as it was remembering who was gone.

(And, he couldn't help but think, one hand reaching up to trace over the dog tags he still wore with 'FIND ME' etched on them, who was still there.)

Following that, there had been stops at a grocery store and an Indian sweets shop. With all the restaurants it did have, an Indian place was something the island lacked and sometimes you just had a craving, you know?

Though maybe putting the bowl of jalebi out on the counter as he worked on preparing dinner was a poor choice. There probably wouldn't be much, if anything, left for dessert at this rate.

The other day, Liam had offhandedly mentioned to Verity that he'd tried funnel cake, and been unimpressed with it. He had not been prepared for the outraged grumbling that had followed that pronouncement. Or the vaguely ominous declaration that this needed to be 'fixed'.

Come Wednesday afternoon, she'd told him that they had a portal booked to the mainland and to bring cash. Actual physical cash, not just a credit card. Curious, he'd pressed her for details, but all she'd say was just "You'll see when we get there."

'There' was apparently a traveling carnival, complete with rides, midway games... and, of course, food stands.

"Is this the one you threatened to ground Hayley from for the summer?" he asked, curious.

[ooc: for the wife!]

After giving it some thought, Liam had decided to bring the flowers to his mother himself rather than have them delivered to the cemetary. He'd laid the bouquet by the stone bearing her name and then stood there in silence, not really sure what he was supposed to do.

Some people talked to their dead loved ones in places like this, he knew. And there were things he wanted to say. Wanted to share, wanted to get off his chest. But not here. Ireland had been her home, had been integral to who she was, but this, this marker... her parents (his grandparents, whispered something in the back of his mind) had had it made, but the truth was, they hadn't known the person their daughter had become in her final years. Hadn't known what she'd done in the name of the Companions. Hadn't known about her Joining with Ha'gel. Hadn't known those regrets she'd expressed in her final moments.

Hadn't known about him.

On a whim, he'd pulled two of the daises from the bouquet, hit up a local sporting goods store, and then booked a portal (Portalocity portal, the lowercase-p kind, he didn't feel like dealing with the flags his profile would raise if he used the Portal system.) that would drop him off at a particular spot in the Austrian mountains.

Despite only having ever been here once before himself, he knew this cave well. Still, his descent was slow and careful, marked with an overabundance of caution.

Siobhan Beckett had been familiar with this cave too, and this is where she had taken her final breaths. True, it had more to deal with the malfunctioning CVI shutting down her brain function than recklessness, but no sense in taking chances.

Once he reached the bottom, he found a spot with a good view of the small waterfall that trickled through the cave, laying the pair of flowers down on the cave floor and sitting with his back against the wall.

"Happy birthday, mother," he said to the empty air in front of him, fingers of his right hand twisting at his wedding band. "I know it's been a while, but a lot's happened since you came to visit. I figured it was about time I updated you on everything..."

[ooc: NFB due to distance and mostly establishy, though can be open for calls/texts/etc.]

Liam had been holding himself together by, basically, the skin of his teeth ever since they'd left the Sour Nest. It was unfamiliar territory, he needed to be on guard, he could not afford to let himself fall apart.

Then the portal dropped them back off on the island, and everything just hit him like a metaphorical freight train.

He'd been trying so hard to keep the guard's- Tomas, he had a name- memories separate from his own but they were there, they were loud, and it wasn't just him, it was Robert, it was all the bodies Ha'gel had worn through his years of studying various cultures.

There were so many. So many voices, thoughts, memories, all coming through at once. He couldn't do this. He didn't want this.

He needed it to stop.

His face went slack, eyes blank as he retreated inside himself, away from the chaos and the noise of it all. He just wanted it to be quiet again, that wasn't too much to ask, was it?

[ooc: for anyone who might have reason to be around! pings will be slowish while i am at work.]

"I'm assuming you know these woods," Liam said, as they hiked through the uneven, weed-snarled field toward the tree line. Rescuing a missing child hadn't been on his agenda for the first evening of the new year, but then, neither was spending the night in a murder house.

( Life with Verity was always an adventure. )

[ooc: Part 2 of 2! Adapted from Seanan McGuire's Swamp Bromeliad, and preplayed with the marvelous arboreal_priestess. NFB & NFI.]