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Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Free Story: Easter at the O'Leary's

"Easter at the O'Leary's" is a short sequel to Summer Storm, written for the Torquere Social Happy Hour, to prompts supplied by the members. It contains no spoilers for "Summer Storm", and it's not necessary to have read "Summer Storm" to follow it. (For those interested in such things, "Summer Storm" now has a pinterest board.)

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Slinky had fit into Cathal's family's hodge-podge of celebrations with supernatural ease. Admittedly, his parents called Slinky 'Caelan', a name which meant 'slender person' (the best Cathal could do at short notice), and they didn't know he was a shapeshifter out of ancient lore, but Cathal knew when to count his blessings and when to cut his losses. Still, Cathal had no misgivings about  bringing Slinky home for Easter.

That might have been a mistake.

It started fine: Saturday, on the beach -- Slinky up earlier than Cathal, sunning himself under the bright but freezing early-morning late-March sky. Cold did not bother Slinky (it didn't bother Cathal, much, either, but there was a difference between doesn't bother me, much and I revel in it, peasants. Slinky skated over such distinctions without ever noticing, but his lover's alien-ness bothered Cathal even less than the cold.

Cathal found Slinky at the end of the shore without trouble; there were a few fishermen checking their nets, and Slinky lay on the beach entirely unselfconscious of curious human eyes.

The hardest part was always the drive. Slinky found human transport stifling, even when Cathal's family was at the other end. Still, he manfully swallowed most of irritation during the long trip to Cathal's parents' place. It didn't always help. Sometimes Slinky got, well, epically car sick. By the time they got to Chez O'Leary, Slinky was looking more like a leprechaun than a selkie.

Cathal's mother immediately packed Slinky off to bed, before dispatching Cathal with a cup of tea and a reproachful look. It didn't last too long; by the time he was back downstairs, Cathal too had been provided with tea. Cathal didn't last much longer than supper; the early start and Slinky's travel sickness had taken something out of both of them. Cathal put himself to bed beside his lover, ready for it to be Easter Morning already.

The next morning, Cathal found Slinky out under his parent's oak tree. Slinky had fortunately recovered much of his color, and Cathal was only too happy to canoodle with him until his parents got back from Mass and the celebrations could properly begin. Slinky, however, having diligently absorbed Catholic Christmas traditions, had apparently turning up with gifts for everybody. An amber necklace for Cathal's mother. A driftwood sculpture for Cathal's father. A fountain pen for Cathal, accompanied by a parchment-heavy envelop marked only "sealed with a kiss" that Cathal dared not open in company.  But Cathal's parents only smiled indulgently, and passed around the chocolate Easter eggs, and a hammer, and it was Slinky's turn to be confused.

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