Late evening, 11th June, 1888 — Walsh/MacKay house

He'd meant to warn her that he was coming. But in the end, it had been a snap decision to board the boat. Had Conall thought about it any longer, he'd have turned tail right back to the rainforest for another three years. He'd written a letter telling her once they were underway, but it was a muggle ship so the only owl he had on him any more was a wild Amazonian pygmy, a runty little thing who had refused to let him alone for months and who'd managed to make a nest for himself in Conall's belongings without him knowing. And who, it appeared, was afraid of water: every time Conall sent him off, he had circled straight back to the foremast or Conall's shoulder.

And by that point, they'd already reached British soil. So Conall had shrugged, gathered up the two small cases that contained most everything he owned (he hadn't ever needed a single expansion charm to manage, and until recently, he'd thought that an asset more than a problem) and made his way north to Scotland.

Irvingly was where she was, but no sooner than he'd reached his brief Hogsmeade stop-off, he'd heard talk about some darned fog that way. A few gruff questions later, he'd got the picture of it. The fog was suppressing magic, and growing by the day, causing all sorts of chaos. Best, he'd been told, to steer clear of it.

Conall had never cared for that phrase. Steer clear. As if. He'd have been the same, he suspected, even if he weren't already so set on the destination. But his daughter was living under the fog, and it was his daughter he'd come to see, so where was the use in loitering about until it passed?

The Hogsmeade folk he'd exchanged words with had advised against apparating into Irvingly by means of the usual way, not certain of whether it was still accessible; Conall had listened to that much, and instead found himself in the shade of the Forbidden Forest to the north of the town, taking the last of the journey in on foot and obligingly stowing his wand once he'd passed through into the fog.

He knew, vaguely, his daughter's address; but Irvingly was foreign to him, and the fog under cover of evening was hell on the eyes, so it had taken him twice as long as he'd meant to come to the right door. It was only at the very point of knocking on the door that Conall felt a twist of misgiving at all, but only rapped more loudly on the door in response. It felt like a thousand odd years before the door opened, but Conall barely registered it opening, because he was more focused on the flash he'd caught of a familiar freckled face in the hall and strode right in to greet her. "Eavan!" he declared in firm relief, swiftly releasing his grasp on his luggage.

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This mysteriously looming fog was making Eva more agitated than she would care to admit. Every single critter in her section of the zoo seemed to be on edge, wary of the fog itself, which made everybody cranky. It was a lose-lose situation really and Eva was hoping this would be over sooner rather than later.

Needless to say she was exhausted, and by the time she made it home through the pea soup of a fog, she was already ready for bed. She was seriously considering setting up a bed in her office and just staying there, it would be a lot easier if this was going to continue to be a problem. It save her a lot of time at the very least.

She'd wandered into their Swallowbury home not too long ago, wandering around to see if Mrs. Sweeney had left them anything for dinner, and unable to find either the house keeper or one of her cousins. There was a lovely plate left for her in the ice box though and Eva had just sat down to eat when she'd heard a knock at the front door. Perplexed and since nobody else seemed to be around, she looked longingly at her dinner and made her way to the door.

Mrs. Sweeney had beaten her there, she must have been in the sitting room, and so Eva had turned to go back into the kitchen and eat when a fondly familiar, long-lost voice wafted through the hallway calling her name. Eva's mouth dropped open in a little "o" of surprise, a clearly astonished Mrs. Sweeney make a similar face before, Eva screeched, "Da!" And all but launched herself at him in a hug.

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Most people who’d met him, Conall knew, would think affectionate to be at odds with his entire personality - and if he helped push those assumptions of theirs onwards, well, it might be intentional. But if they knew him at all, they’d also know that family was always the exception, and so Conall felt no shame in kicking his cases out of the way to envelop his daughter in a tight bear hug.

Well. There was some shame at just how long it had been, and how unreal it felt to see her at all. He shouldn’t have left her behind; maybe he shouldn’t have left everything behind as soon as he had. Here Eavan was, in a house in a quaint little town in the rolling fog of Scotland, like dusting off a picture he couldn’t remember ever seeing before. Was that how long he had been gone? Long enough that the dust had settled comfortably?

His desire not to let go of his daughter ever again was outweighed only by his need to look at her, properly, after four years of not, and so eventually he pulled back from the hug, one hand still heavy on her shoulder as he studied her from a better angle. She looked the same, still Eavan, big blue eyes, freckled nose, same smile like sunshine. She looked a little pale - from the light or the Scottish weather or plain worry, perhaps - and ever-so-slightly older than he’d remembered, but otherwise healthy, otherwise well.

“It’s good to see you, Eavan,” he murmured, finding it difficult to shift his gaze. He cleared his throat, hoping - abruptly - that she would feel the same about the way he’d showed up on her doorstep so suddenly, like a lost lamb. His mouth twitched upwards at the corner, half-smile, half-grimace. “I did mean to warn ya I was coming.”

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With her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her toes barely touching the ground, Eva tried to soak up as much of him as she could from one single embrace. He smelled different, exotic, not bad, but not the earthy outside, almost pine tree scent she remembered of their previous home. Of course four long years in the Amazon would do that, she supposed. The feel of him was entirely the same though. That solid, sturdy frame that gave the absolute best hugs. For the first time in a long time, Eva felt almost whole again.

When he finally let go, Eva mirrored his movement to take a look at him. Where he found her largely unchanged, Eva thought he looked rather different. Maybe the Amazon had taken its toll, maybe it was the lingering grief they both felt, but she thought for once, he was starting to look his age. Not that she would ever say that, but it was to be expected, she supposed and truthfully, just a little worrisome.

Laying a hand atop the one he kept on her shoulder, Eva sighed softly, accompanied by a quiet chuckle. "But you wouldn't be you if you had." It was true-to-form for him to just show up on a whim. "I've missed you." Oh had she ever. Eva did not begrudge him his grieving process after losing her mother, everybody dealt differently, but Merlin she really had missed him.  

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Well, she'd let him get away with it, because she was his little girl and she forgave him things people probably weren't supposed to, and even that was a relief. There had been fear, nested deep in his gut, that four years - even one year - might have been enough to change that fact, that he would come back to a stranger who no longer cared to see him. It had been a fair reason to stay away.

A reason other than the fact that he'd seemed a stranger to himself, in the days after Nola had passed, like someone had gone and smashed the mirror of his life and left him with jagged pieces, bleeding palms and a reflection of it that made no sense anymore.

There was a shimmer of glass in his eyes even now, Eavan here before him looking like an uncanny mirror of her mother."Well -" Conall said, rubbing his thumb over the hand with which she'd covered his and clearing his throat, "I've missed you too. Missed you plenty." He sighed, and let out a breath at getting to confess it aloud at last.

"Nice place," he added, glancing around the hall. He'd got here later than he'd meant, and oughtn't stay long, but couldn't fathom stepping outside again so soon in the face of his daughter's company. "You look - settled," he said, with an encouraging smile. Like she was happy here. "How've you been? Well?" Conall meant in recent weeks, recent days, but at this point he wasn't sure he'd be opposed to a retelling of her whole time here: letters were not nearly the same.

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Eva smiled softly, feeling enjoyably like a little girl now that her dad was here. "It's really Tierney's, I suppose. He and Una live here too." She explained. Though Eva had lived here the longest, it had been with some extended family for a while, until her first cousins had shown up. Though she hadn't had any issues making friends, once Una and Tierney had arrived it felt far more like home.

"I'm doing really well. There's a zoo here, I'm in charge of aviary." Merlin did she love it. Eva had never thought she'd be able to stay in one place for very long and hadn't really until now. Maybe it was being "on her own" or the fact that everything here was so easy and enjoyable, but she was content. There was a hint of an itch to travel, but the way things were with Fletcher right now, she'd tried not to think too much on it because she wasn't sure how he'd react.

"I was just sitting down to eat, would you like something? There's plenty to go around." Mrs. Sweeney seemed incapable of cooking for less than six, when there was only four of them to begin with, including herself! "I want to hear all about your trip." Eva should have been able to stay with him, but it just hadn't worked out that way. In the long run she wasn't complaining, but she really had missed him.

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It felt like an age since he had so much as smiled, enough that the expression felt foreign. Foreign, but not unnatural. And maybe this was more like coming home than he'd thought, though he'd never been here before: he'd not only have Eavan, but a niece and nephew to boot, a whole extended family reunion. "Course they are. I'll have to tell 'em myself."

He nodded, still smiling in undisguised pride as she mentioned her work at the zoo, conscious that the things he knew from occasional letters would pale against the picture of her life lived here, one in vivid, full colour. "And I'll bet it's thriving," he interjected, without a hint of doubt in his mind.

"Well, if there's something going spare," Conall said, this time trying to conceal his delight, although he'd passed the point of hunger so much earlier in the day he scarcely felt it any longer. "I'll just stay for a minute or two, an' then be out of your hair," he assured her. He nudged his cases a little bit towards the wall and out of the way before nodding at her to lead the way. "Speaking of being in the way, you've still got your little Bastien?" He asked, hopefully.

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Eavan couldn't help but to beam at his unwavering pride in her. Even across continents and years, that hadn't changed. She beamed at him and motioned for him to follow her back into the kitchen. "Don't be silly. We have a spare room, you can stay here." No matter how old she got, she would never lose that sensation of being daddy's little girl. It put a spring in her step as she pushed through the door and set about fixing a second plate.

"I didn't even touch mine, you can have it, I'll take this one." Eva motioned with a nod of her head toward the little kitchen table where her food sat from before his arrival. "I can warm that one up if you need me to." She hummed along as she moved about the kitchen.

"Oh yes, he's at the aviary, prefers to sleep there. I have a second one now too, Lucy, she's snoozing in my room." Poor little Lucy, always got picked on by the big diricawls so she tended to stick with Eva. With a second plate ready to go, she sat down across from him, still grinning. It was so nice to have him home- or here rather. It was her home after all. "Tell me all about it." It must have been worth it if he'd stayed longer, not that she could begrudge him that.

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He only inclined his head in the slightest of nods when she offered the spare room, still partly ready to set himself up with a room in a local inn as he would have anyway, but - since she had proposed it... A night or two in the youngsters' house couldn't hurt; if he was here for longer, he'd be sure to give them some space.

If he was here for longer. He'd thought it would feel like floating, being here - he was here without an end-date, without an expedition, without anything fixed - but perhaps Eavan was a better anchor than all those. He'd see what he could find here. First of all: a meal, evidently. He sat obediently in her old seat and took a bite - a little gingerly - only to find that his stomach was roaring to life, and if he didn't pace himself he'd wolf down the lot before she even sat down with him. "No need," he murmured though his next mouthful.

He chuckled outwardly at her diricawl talk, would have rather she talked longer, but she asked again and he sighed. "It was terrific. There's no place like it, honest." Even Australia, even... all the places they had been, and none quite compared. It had been colossal. "Teeming with life, any kind of creature you can imagine - found all sorts, out there." (Best not to mention the Lethifold, though, maybe, or the dark creature lurking in his own head, the monster grown out of grief that had almost eked out an existence of its very own all that time.) "Saw -" at this point, a small beaked head poked its way out of Conall's inside pocket, the Amazon-native pgymy owl finally hopping out onto the table in the warmth to ruffle his feathers. Conall rolled his eyes. Daft creature. "When I say all sorts - this is Nut. Won't learn to send a bloody thing."

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The following 1 user Likes Conall MacKay's post:1 user Likes Conall MacKay's post
   February Umbridge

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Eva nodded along as Conall spoke, taking a bit every now and then, simply absorbing everything about him. It had been so long since they'd last spoke, she could listen to him for ages. There was just something about hearing for the first time in ages that left her feeling completely content. She wished he'd never stop. It would lull her to sleep eventually.

Then Nut hopped down onto the table and Eva let out an unreasonably girlish squeal of delight, clapping her hands together enthusiastically. "Oh, Da he's so adorable." She'd never seen such a tiny owl! "You wee creature, how could you even carry a letter?!" Gently she reached out a finger to give him a little scratch under the his beak. "He's barely bigger than a snidget, how could he be expected to." She had no doubts her father had tried, but what could he expect!

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it, I wish I could have stayed." That was mostly true. Though she thought everything happened for a reason and lots of things would be very different if she had stayed. "It's nice to have you here too, though."

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There were moments, already, when he felt Nola. Or, at least, the ache of her not being here, an empty space at the corner of his eye, the feeling that she should be here, if only she were here - He’d thought that might not happen here, in Irvingly, where she had never been. Then again, he’d thought it might not happen in the Amazon, and it had.

But he was getting better at enduring it, and Eavan made it a hundred times better instantly, unknowingly. A kind of relief even the biggest nitwit of an owl couldn’t break.

“I bloody well tried,” Conall agreed, shaking his head in barely-disguised fond despair. Folding up the letter to a square inch and even the best lightening charms hadn’t made any difference in the end - “But we both found out somewhere over the Atlantic that Nut’s scared of water, so.” He rolled his eyes. “Hadn’t planned on bringing him, either, but he wouldn’t let us alone.” He’d taken to hiding in Conall’s things. After a week of pelting the camp with brazil nuts, ‘course.

“It would have been better with you, ‘course,” he added, casting her an earnest smile. “Mind you -” he said suddenly, “Colleague of mine down there has a few more rescues that could use rehoming. Couple birds too, as it happens, and some muggle ones. Amazon oddities.” He chewed another mouthful, trying to pace himself. “Don’t suppose your aviary has any space going?” ‘Her’ aviary, he knew she only worked there, but - it was ‘her’ zoo, practically, in his head.

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Eva's eyes widened in delight when her da mentioned there were rehab animals in need of a placement. The zoo was always looking for something new and exotic things brought in more people. Not that Eva was in the direct market of keeping zoo guests happy, but she did want to keep her job, which meant the zoo itself needed to stay open.

"I always have room, especially for widdle babs like this." He could bring her a thunderbird and she'd figure it out, honestly. "Let me know what else needs a home and I'll talk to Mr. Podmore." He was unlikely to say no, but she always figured  it would be good to ask, again, she liked her job. "Now I'm all excited!" She really was too. It had been so long since they'd work together in any capacity and she'd missed it terribly, almost as much as she missed him. She and her mother had always been the only ones who could really handle Conall's...demeanor without faltering. In fact Eva truly enjoyed working with her father in many respects. He knew his trade well and it showed, even if he was a bit of a brute about it.

"Will you be staying with us then? I'll have to make sure Mrs. Sweeney  makes up the spare room for you." She wouldn't mind, Eva hoped!

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It would have been perfectly alright if she had said no. He hadn't come with any expectations. Couldn't say he deserved such a thing as having expectations, when the world must have so little expectation of him.

But she seemed keen, and said she was excited, and a similar feeling was frothing up inside him now, delight that somehow had the strength of acid rain, the kind that might melt through layers upon layers of rock. He could feel it, already, the landslide shifting inside his chest.

His smile shifted, too, pulling up into a proper grin, bared teeth and all. "Knew I could count on you," he said lightly, fondly, thinking of all the years they had spent together - when she had only been a wee girl - and all the creatures she had taken under her wing even then. "And -" he faltered for a moment, thinking it would be better not to get too caught up in this whirl of enthusiasm, let things settle more gradually, keep a safe distance so he didn't only go and let Eavan down again... and then he gave in, anyway. "Alright. Yeah, I s'pose I ought. Just for now." He grinned again, already feeling a little guilty for this Mrs. Sweeney of hers and all the changes to her plans he was already wreaking.

But he was glad to be here, gladder than any kind of guilt there was.

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