#( plus it's so important to me that aisling isn't the only main character )

[clochanamarc]

u get another teaser drabble for what's to come in 2024 for aisling and the squad, but before i dive into it: this year is a whole JOURNEY, yk? a real saga of so many parts for aisling and the family and ur muses too (if u want!! bc i very much want ye to feel like u can be involved!) but this is like. i've been so excited abt this for so long, and that's all i wanna say atm, but i will be making a post to outline stuff if y'all wanna plot smth involved w this year's overall arc!

she's never driven as fast as this in her life. rubber burning, tires defying every natural law of physics as they power through puddles and thin air and loose gravel to bring her to the blooming flower of smoke that protrudes from the familiar block. the police have already set up the tape, not for a crime scene but rather to keep the others safe, when she skids to a halt next to them, abandoning the keys in the ignition, door open, knowing nobody would be stupid enough to steal it tonight.

" will! " she's racing forward, and the officer instinctively lifts a hand. " where are they?! "

" aisling-- "

" where?! " she's about to move past him, but he plants a hand on her shoulder with admittedly lacking wisdom. adrenaline and terror and trauma collide. she catches his wrist, twists it down and away from her arm, and uses a swirl of energy to pin him down against the bonnet of a police car.

" wait! dammit, wait, wait, wait! " he's yelling, his free hand waving out frantically, and it takes a second for her to grasp that he isn't speaking to her, but to the alarmed back-up who take positions and size her up, a hair away from a chaotic choice. " she's alright! she's fine, ais, you're okay, i'm sorry, let me explain-- "

" where the hell are they?! " she's releasing him, brushing past the others like flies, when she sees a familiar face emerging from the rubble of the diner. " woo-- "

" alright, let's all just take a second... jones, we found seven of the kids. they're fine, they're unharmed. well... eli dislocated an arm, but-- "

" i have eight children. "

" ... you still do, yes. but aisling, we... we need to talk about that-- "

" what... " she's not sure which way is up anymore. jimmy has an arm outstretched, but her gaze is fixed on the destruction around them. blackened bricks. scorched rubble. veins of darkness that spiral across the tarmac. metal lampposts twisted and contorted. her fingertips catch on a piece of lightly melted tinsel, flames reflecting against the cheap gleam of the plastic. " who's missing? " nobody answers her. nobody wants to say it. her hands curl into tight fists, and she turns, eyes filled with tears of heartbreak and rage and disbelief. " who did he take, woo? "

" well... that's just it, jones. aisling... mister kelly was not responsible for this. they did. they fled shortly after, and... there's something else you should know. "

" you're not making any sense; you mean one of my kids did this? one of my kids melted concrete and levelled a four storey building? "

" please. aisling-- "

" aisling. " the voice alone drives her stomach into the ground. he's standing in the hazy smoke, soot and dust staining the holy collar, black shirt crumpled from the madness. oisín. the boy who forgot. the man who remembers. the lost-and-found brother who opens out his arms, and places her in a gentle, feather-light embrace. " i need you to listen now... "

" no. " her voice betrays the full measure of fear and devastation that besieges her heart. but he won't let her pull away; he holds her tighter, and places a gentle hand on the back of her head, voice thick with tears.

" he's gone, ais. i'm sorry-- "

" shut up, shut up, don't you-- oisín, please, please-- "

" he's dead. "

she's crying, and her legs give out beneath her, but he holds her upright, forcing her to bear it all. " don't do this- "

but he has to.

and so he does.

" stanley's dead. "