[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren was surprised at the thoughtful and thorough response she got. She hadn't expected it and somehow it seemed to show a duality Declan had never hinted at. So he did notice other people, occasionally. Even praised them, kind of. Yet she ultimately took from it what she'd always assumed. We're her mother not stopped from doing it for the sake of marriage she'd have been utterly lethal. Though her mother would gladly remind them of this anytime she could anyways.


Her expression politely neutral she nodded acknowledging his assessment. "Interesting observations," she concluded politely. She suspected, in her current arrangement, her mother rarely faced situations where there was much fight left in the people she came and to wand with. She certainly had no intention to duel her herself. Though given the events of days prior perhaps if her mother insulted Declan as she fought her it would be easier to muster the rage required to focus on almost maiming or killing her.


When he asked her whether she enjoyed dueling and casually mentioned Declan not being interested she was surprised. Was he clever enough to deliver a truly well rounded insult or was it just happen stance? Not using Declan's name - the man she would not be here meeting him without. Whom it would seem everyone here had some kind of inkling she would soon be wed to. 'My eldest' seemed to condescending to be an accident. Offering up Lorcan, a teenager, her intended's baby brother as a possible sparring partner, was simultaneously an insult to her and Declan - if Fontana were at all clever.

She glanced quickly at Declan, non verbally clocking the comment with him.


"To be honest I don't much care. My mother forced me to learn and practice with her until I left home. I am proficient enough to feel confident in putting up a respectable offense and a strong defense if needed. Personally, I find more value in other pursuits."


Was it a jab? It was delivered so politely and diplomatically in tone it was impossible to tell if it was a frank opinion or a subtle slap.


Glancing at Declan, clearly trying to interject in some kind of smoothing over, she felt that same defensive sense for him bubbling up as it had with her mum.

"Indeed. Artists can duel. But when your art is reliant on all 10 fingers you'd be wise to think twice about what else you do with them. No one wants to hear someone with seven fingers try and play violin."


Fintan proposed a game but she couldn't think of anything but Declan. It was necessary, meeting and socializing with everyone, but she had no desire to do so. Though perhaps all of this had been longer coming than she'd realized their love was still new enough that all she wanted was time alone with him.


"A game certainly sounds amusing but I was promised a tour of the gardens while we still have full sun to appreciate them," she lied sweetly. "I am happy to join as your banner man afterward though." She smiled one of her irresistible smiles at her future father in law. The kind of smile that made men and women melt and yield to whatever she had just been so politely demanding. Being impossibly pretty and effortlessly seductive had many perks.

Glancing at Declan she locked eyes with him. It was his job to save them now. Gardens, house, leaving altogether she wasn't really fussed so long as they were alone. Hand in hand, wrapped up in each other, absorbing the bliss of the radiant warmth of their love that seemed to fill the air around them anytime they were happily alone.

[Declan O'Dwyer]

It turned out that joy and beauty revealed themselves in the strangest of contexts. Perhaps, Declan should have been upset that his father was trying the same tired old tropes to provoke a conflict, but all he could feel was a bubbling sense of happiness. His Farren was confidently holding her own, letting him know that they were a team. He noted her little glances and how she kept on checking in with him to make sure he was okay.

Warm and caring weren't usually words people used to describe Farren, but clearly the world didn't see and understand her in the same way he did.

Declan offered a warm smile in response, uncharacteristically relaxing into the situation. He might not be in control of what was happening, but Farren and he were in sync with each other and therefore could handle anything that life was about to throw at them.

He couldn't help a charmed laugh as Farren chatted about needing her fingers intact for playing the violin. It was such a sight to behold. With seeming effortlessness she navigated the minefield that was his family and from the looks of it they were eating it up. His father, Fintan, certainly seemed happy enough. If Declan had to put a word on it, surreal was probably it. Like he'd slipped into an alternate reality where his family had suddenly stopped hating each other.

A game. Okay, full stop. That was not good. His father only played two kinds of games. Either dangerous spells were involved or lots of alcohol or both. Declan supposed that technically made it three kinds, not that the distinctions mattered. It was an altogether undesirable scenario that was best avoided before there was any danger of it playing out.

"Yes indeed," Declan chimed in when there was an opening, "I've been meaning to show Farren the grounds and some interesting potion ingredients." That sounded like something he'd say, right? He doubted Farren had any special desire to know about Irish plants, but his father didn't know that.

Declan's grandfather though, astute as ever, raised an eyebrow. "We'll be back," Declan promised in a whisper. "We wouldn't miss the best part of the celebration." An understanding smile from his grandfather. Declan risked a little a conspiring wink in return.

If Fintan had clocked the interaction, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he was focused on Farren giving her an intense look. "Oh, come on. You can't leave so soon. My cousin sent a few good bottles from the distillery..."

"Later, Finn," Declan's grandmother interrupted, scolding softly. "There's be plenty of time. Let the young ones go and stretch their legs." She then turned to Declan, tidying a few strands of Declan's hair. They locked eyes for a moment and Declan nodded. Then, something was exchanged between the two of them. Whatever it was, Declan swiped the item into one of his pockets.

He walked around the table to stand beside Farren. "Well, come on, shall we? There's quite a lot to see." He held out his hand and before anyone had much of a chance to argue he whisked her out of sight and deeper into the gardens.

"Grandmother's prized rose bushes, various kinds," he commented vaguely, pointing out some plants in flower, producing large but delicate dark blue flowers. "She's particularly fond of those," Declan pointed out, referring to a bush featuring white flowers with purple rimmed leaves. He could have extolled the virtues of the different kinds and their scents. Some weee suitable for perfume production while others were solely ornamental. His mind, however, was engaged elsewhere.

His descriptions stopped just as soon as they were out of earshot. He opened a gate that lead to  a narrow mountain path. It snaked towards the horizon through the picturesque purple heather and painterly swathes of green landscape. With nothing obstructing the view, and not a wizard- or mugglemade structure in sight the mountains seemed endless.

"There's a particular little spot I've been wanting to show you," he broke the silence. "That is it you don't mind a few minutes walk. I'll promise to make it worth your while."

He indicated ahead to a branch in the path. "We take a left there and just around the corner there is a rather pretty oak forest. It's quite special in that it's been here for a very long time and the trees are hundreds of years old."

The trees were still in the distance, but looked gnarled and ancient even from afar.

"Anyway, what do you think of my folks? Are you managing or do I have to come up with an excuse for us later on?" 

[Farren Abercrombie]

Thankfully Declan picked up her hint and ran with the stupid garden tour idea. Not that she had any doubt he would but it seemed a break away would be easy enough.


Smiling at Fintan she gave a little shrug, "Something tells me those bottles will be put to good use one way or another." For a moment she paused, debating if she dared be as snarky as the comment that popped into her head just then. He seemed to be a jovial type, surely he'd understand a little joke? With a seductively sweet smile she tilted her head and added, "Besides, as my family name might suggest I'm much more partial to the complexities of Scotch over Irish." Her tone was friendly even if it was teasing.


Taking Declan's hand she gave Fintan one last sweet little grin before rising and smiling at her handsome partner with a look of smug amusement at how easily she'd handled the man he deemed so problematic. As he led her away from the table she gave his hand a tight squeeze, excited and appreciative to be leaving the larger party to be along with him.


Of course she couldn't have cared less about the roses he was showing her. Sure, they were lovely, perhaps one day she'd care about Irish gardens but now was certainly not the time. As they made their way away from the family party she glanced back at them. It wasn't unpleasant in the least but she felt selfish, greedy even, for Declan's sole attention. They all seemed nice enough but it would take quite some time to actually get to know any of them and build any kind of relationship. From her understanding of things it was usually not until children arrived that one really began to bond with in-laws so perhaps there would be a couple of years of polite, distant relationships yet to come.


"Sure," she commented when he suggested a walk. Per his suggestion she had worn at least moderately comfortable boots under her dress and had already enchanted them and her hem to resist any kind of dirt or water. Ahead of them the landscape certainly looked inviting. Perhaps she had adapted very comfortably to life in Belgravia but she had been raised in one of the most remote areas of England. Even amongst the muggles Cumbria was decades behind somewhere like London. All rolling hills, sheep, rocks, and lakes - there was little in the way of modern amusements and diversions in her homeland. The family homes in Scotland were just as remote if not more. So this environment felt more homey to her than much else she'd find in Ireland.


It seemed the O'Dwyers were so much easier in demeanor than her own family. Perhaps they would welcome her true self, the country lady who spent more time in a riding habit than a dinner gown and wore her riding boots into the house. She was almost amused at the idea of tying her horse at the gate of his Grandparent's home and waltzing into the place in her Abercrombie tartan habit skirt and coordinating jacket. Their sore thumb of a granddaughter in law, clinging to her family's original Scottish heritage despite now being a mistress of one of the most Irish families to ever have existed amongst their magical kind. Smiling at the thought of it she looked over at Declan before giggling a little and intentionally bumping into him from the side, playful and flirty.


"Everyone seems fine. Your father doesn't seem nearly as sour as you make him out to be but I suppose everyone is on their best behavior in front of guests."


"I don't mind going back but I certainly wouldn't mind staying out here with you until the sunsets or were utterly famished and have no choice but to starve or return. Family gatherings are all well and good but I prefer having your undivided attention and not having to bother with engaging with anyone else when all I want to do is be alone with you."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

"I think he's being nice to you just to annoy me," Declan suggested humorously. In private though he was considering another, slightly more concerning conclusion. His father clearly knew Farren's mother. They were both part of that ridiculous movement. Perhaps, he was concerned that being horrible to Farren would somehow reflect badly on his standing within that group. The thought was uncomfortable in Declan's mind, but it had a certain amount of merit. His father probably found himself as a member of questionable standing given that he was Irish.

Declan wrinkled his nose in contemplation before forcing himself to brush the thought aside. There had to be some sort of ulterior motive that had motivated his father's decision to play nice, but there was plenty of time to get to the bottom of it. He didn't have to solve that particular mystery today. Or maybe Farren truly had charmed Fintan O'Dwyer. No, that sounded absurd even just as a stray thought.

They kept following the path towards a wooded area. It looked almost out of place in the otherwise sparse landscape. The air shifted as they drew closer, a prickle of static that hinted at the presence of heavy disillusionment charms. Declan was so familiar with the sensation he paid it no mind at all.

"I'm not going anywhere," he tried to reassure Farren. "You'll have me for as long as you want." He could relate to the feeling though. There was something exciting about their connection solidifying and the emotions it elicited. Sometimes it still seemed unreal to him and yet it was such fun. The strangest part by far was that it seemed to constantly challenge him to let go.

Declan had spent so much time wanting to hide, that it was altogether foreign to deal with the sensation of wanting to share. What had served as a very much necessary system of defence before, he now experienced uncomfortable shyness and unnecessary worrying. And even while his mind had identified his problem, he found it difficult to change this behaviour where he kept some part of himself hidden and safe.

"I want to spend all my time with you as well," he finally admitted, though he didn't look at her directly as he spoke. "But I'm more than a little afraid that I might stray from the path of virtue if you indulge me." They'd danced around this topic before and had somewhat tested the waters with each other but had yet to fully give in to temptation. It seemed to Declan that each time they saw each other the flame of desire she'd ignited in him was burning a little brighter. He did his best to mostly ignore it, but it had a way of being quietly insistent.

They finally reached the fork in the path, and Declan continued straight on into the forest. The oak trees were gnarled and ancient, their leaves whispering in the wind. A little high pitched noise carried through the area.

"Careful," he said, wrapping an arm around Farren gently sweeping her a little closer to him. "There's a lot of fairies here." He pointed at a bush to her left that was bussing with the little creatures, crystalline wings refracting the light that fell through the canopy and breaking it into all colours of the spectrum. "They look pretty, but can actually be quite annoying." He wasn't sure if they were common where Farren had grown up. He'd never noticed them in the Forbidden Forest during his time at Hogwarts, but perhaps that had more to do with the rumoured acromantula colony than anything else.

The path the followed split again and Declan drew his wand from his robes, sending a flickering blue light alone one of the paths. In the distance something reflected the light back to them.

"This way."

[Farren Abercrombie]

She didn't have doubts about him going anywhere but appreciated the reassurance nonetheless. This was, despite her mother's insane protestation, a rather idylic situation for them both. One that perhaps they were more nervous than was let on. Him marrying was a requirement, even if he would down play the need for him to produce heirs to ease her own stress over the matter.  According to him and basically everyone they'd known as mutual friends, his unrequited love for her from adolescents onward was common knowledge to everyone but herself. So as far as she could tell, this was in many ways, a perfect albeit shocking outcome for him. Re-marrying and having children was utterly non-negotiable though she had grown to rue the day that was going to happen. She'd assumed her second marriage would be much the same as her first though she'd sworn to herself to pick someone 40% less stupid the second time around. Love had taken a plunge down her priorities list and was now a 'nice to have' kind of quality in a relationship. So by her own list of standards she was coming out far ahead of her own expectations with this as well. They'd each had nearly all their boxes ticked off by the other - of course neither of them were going anywhere.



His comment about the path of virtue made her raise her eyebrow. Why he was so insistent upon this she wasn't sure. Initially when they'd first become romantic she'd hesitated, decades of training of how to be a lady clouding her attitude. Now though she saw no point in denying themselves anything. She'd understood that he had been with other women but had she misunderstood? Was he holding back out of anxiety? Even still, why bother now that they'd both made up their minds? It was going to happen eventually, surely it was favorable to start experimenting now so that by the time the wedding came to pass there was some semblance of comfort and familiarity with the other? So when he went to remove her wedding gown it was not all nerves and awkward starts? To her at least that made sense, having done it all before the proper way and having been left wanting for almost anything more enjoyable than what she got. For him to bring it up now, it seemed as though it was in the forefront of this mind. Her comment had not particularly been about intimacy at all.


"Declan," she started softly. For a moment she considered how to make her view on this painfully clear. She thought there had been more than one occasion where she'd done that but it would seem there was still considerable hesitation from him.


"Rules and virtue are all well and good to start out with when things are uncertain. There is certainly a time and place for it. " For a moment she paused to think. Perhaps now was not the time but he'd broached the subject and had given her an opening - intentional or not. Though considering him this was likely a loaded subject. For all his nonsense about being unconventional he was anything but. Sure, having a hobby perfume business when you're a multi-millionaire was quirky but hardly avante garde. Perhaps despite some dalliances in his youth he did indeed take it all very seriously as he did other things. 


Her train of thought was interrupted by him pulling her closer, going on about fairies, as if she hadn't grown up in miles of unspoiled magical wilderness. "I'm not so concerned about fairies, we have all manner of creature at Dalemain you know....miles and miles of unspoilt magical wilderness. I guess having never seen the place properly you have fallen for my very lady like facade and are oblivious to the fact that I was, in fact, a rather feral child. Fairies and pixies and hinkypunks have been familiar foe for my whole life."



She let him pull her closer protectively though, she would not deny him that closeness on account of his concern being a bit silly. Any excuse to be closer was welcomed. "They are pretty though," she added letting her head fall against his shoulder momentarily, a little sign of affection as they traipsed forward on the path he'd chosen. She eased her stride as he pulled his wand unintentionally, watching the little blip of light he produced steam ahead of them into the wood. Curious. She was intrigued. Without hesitation she continued beside him as he directed.


Unsure where they were going but assuming it was whatever had reflected this light back towards them she saw her window of opportunity diminshing to address this virtue concern he'd skirted. "Dec...." she continued beside him though she glanced over at him as she spoke, "About your comment. I can see how my actions and signals could be confusing for a gentleman. Indeed, when our feelings first surfaced there was certainly a need to stay on the path of virtue for the sake of propriety and ensuring we didn't make any rash judgements. But....I find myself quite exhausted with all of that if I am to be frank. What's the point now? I am not going anywhere. You are not going anywhere. There is no consequence to our following our hearts desires. Everyone knows I am a widow. No maid will come to check our marital bed for proof that I had maintained myself for the wedding. So why not let me indulge you? I suppose I cannot force you to do anything so I shall state it so plainly you cannot misconstrue it in your head."


She looked over at him, her gait faltering slightly as she did forcing them both to slow their stride, "Step off the path. Step off the path of virtue with me. For me. Let me indulge you, let us indulge each other. I choose you and I do not see myself changing my mind. I see no point in denying ourselves the pleasure and intimate expression of some aspects of a relationship because of tradition. So let it be clear, that is my deep desire, to step off the path and be as un-virtuous as possible with you. Positively sinful if you will allow it. I am confident my only regret will be not straying further from the path sooner."


She smiled a coy flirty grin at him and picked her pace back up to her prior speed. For a few strides she let what she'd said sink in. Perhaps it would be shocking to him given his background. But she didn't care, to her each night that passed without him beside her was a missed opportunity. If he ever got around to the proposal he'd promised her father she wondered if she'd be able to stand crawling into bed alone afterwards. Whatever his hang up was, whatever his anxieties, she was happy to talk him out of them as she knew she could.