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Post by Kathy on Dec 29, 2007 3:47:41 GMT -5
*Kathy carefully picked her way down the cliff path to the beach. Sitting on a rock, she unlaced her boots and pulled off her stockings before she walked into the water barefoot up to her knees, careless for her skirts. It was a ragged old gray dress anyway, and it needed a good washing. She stared out at the horizon, imagining she could see the green hills of Ireland.*
Now I'm touching the same water that laps at her shores...
*Hugging herself, she stood very still for a long time, achingly homesick.*
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Post by Michael on Dec 30, 2007 0:00:30 GMT -5
*Michael came down, barefoot and haphazardly dressed in that way that only young men can quite seem to pull off without looking messy.*
"What'cha thinkin' about, Kath?" *He asked, sitting down on the sand and making a visor of one hand.*
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Post by Kathy on Dec 30, 2007 0:03:55 GMT -5
"My love," *she murmured softly.* "My only true love...Ireland."
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Post by Michael on Dec 30, 2007 0:06:58 GMT -5
"Ach, Kath, ye've got to have met some pretty French boy in that Opera house o'yours." *He teased.*
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Post by Kathy on Dec 30, 2007 0:10:45 GMT -5
"Never," *she said, shrugging off the tease, her hazy blue mood remaining as she slogged back through the water to sit on a rock to dry off a bit in the hot sun. She hummed quietly to herself for a minute before she added words to the song.*
"As evening fell, a maiden stood At the edge of a wood. In her hands lay the reins Of a stallion. And ne'er I'd seen a girl as fair, Heard a gentler voice anywhere. Whispered, "Alas..." She belonged, belonged to another-- Another forever. Yes, she belonged to the twilight and mist."
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Post by Michael on Dec 30, 2007 0:13:04 GMT -5
"There's the songbird I grew up with." *He said, smiling, some time after she had finished.*
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Post by Kathy on Dec 30, 2007 0:16:17 GMT -5
"I could never keep me music to meself," *she said with a smile.* "Even now when I'm washin' I'll sing until me throat hurts more than me back or me hands."
*She glanced down at her chapped hands, stinging from the salt water.*
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Post by Micaela on Dec 30, 2007 0:18:43 GMT -5
"Kath, you should put somethin' on those." *He said softly.* "You'll have washerwoman hands."
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Post by Kathy on Dec 30, 2007 0:19:18 GMT -5
"...I am a washerwoman, ye daft man."
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Post by Micaela on Dec 30, 2007 0:21:24 GMT -5
"Ye're far to young and yer arse far too small to be a washerwoman, Kath." *He teased.* "But ye really should get somethin' on those."
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Post by Kathy on Dec 30, 2007 0:23:18 GMT -5
"I'll see if there's any fat in the kitchen for 'em...sometimes it helps. An' if it don't do fer makin' me hands better, it'll do fer makin' me arse bigger."
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Post by Micaela on Dec 30, 2007 0:26:12 GMT -5
*He sat on the chair next to her on the rock.*
"Well did I ever say anythin' about wantin' yer arse to get bigger?" *He teased.*
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Post by Kathy on Dec 30, 2007 0:27:54 GMT -5
"Ye'll find that me arse is me own business, wee Mikey," *she said, squinting up at him in the sunlight with a grin.*
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Post by Micaela on Dec 30, 2007 0:30:32 GMT -5
**MIKEY**
*He rolled his eyes, grinning even so.*
"Tiny slip of a thing, I doubt it's even possible."
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Post by Kathy on Dec 30, 2007 0:32:12 GMT -5
*She leaned over and landed a solid punch on his shoulder.*
"Look who's talkin' 'bout skinny bottoms. When did yer Ma start givin' ye nought but second skimmings to drink?"
*She prodded him in the chest.*
"I can feel yer ribs and everything."
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