#but I also think we’re treating solas as too predictable

[wyllapproves]

“Solas would kill Lavellan” this and “solas would never kill her!!” that.

It doesn’t matter. He is fully intent on destroying her world so the question is: does he go back and save her in the end or does he let the world burn with her on it and feel sorry for himself while he does it?

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [586]

“You’re so much angrier in the future,” Bull whispers to her. It’s one of the few times they’ve managed to be alone together. There aren’t enough of these moments. Ellana’s dying for the time when Bull can safely break off from the Qun — making it look as natural as possible, and hopefully avoiding putting the Chargers in a life or death situation again — and they can be together under sun and stars instead of hidden away like this. But they have to build it. Even if they both remember building every single layer of this foundation, even if they remember what it was like to have something solid underneath them.

They have to build it again. For everyone to see.

“Don’t I have every reason to be?” Ellana says, squeezing his hand as she turns to press an open mouthed kiss to his bare shoulder.

There was a scar here, once. There might not be, anymore, or even in this new future they’re slowly building. But there was a scar here, once, and she remembers dressing it and checking it and fussing over it. She remembers that he was mostly disappointed because it disrupted the lines of his black tattoos. Ellana’s frustration was that he was hurt badly enough that it was going to scar and that he wasn’t taking better care of it.

“Considering how everything plays out, I think all of us were justified in being a little harder, having some more grit and drag.”

“I never said you didn’t,” Bull says, relaxed and pliant next to her as he look out the narrow window to the sky. No one’s found this room in Skyhold yet. Both of them know every single passageway, every single weakness in the stone and wood, every single hidden room and false brick. Eventually they’ll make sure all of these are discovered — especially the weaknesses, the openings — but for now they can have this little room for themselves. Where they can let fall their daily facades and be who they really are. Who they’ve already become. “It’s just…weird. Off putting. It’s like…we were frogs being boiled before and now that we’re suddenly back here I’m having trouble recognizing you as you when you’re pretending to be…you.”

Ellana understands a little.

Years from now, Bull is more settled and confident in himself outside of the Qun. He’s accepted that he and the Qun do not see eye to eye, that there are things he does not want to be changed, and that there is no going back. Right now he has to pretend to hold loyalties. Right now he has to pretend like he’s still got one foot in it, and out of his weight on that foot.

“The others I’m a little more used to,” Bull continues. “Because I know that they don’t know, and it’s easier to place them. Predict. But with you. With you it’s harder. You remember. And I know what you want to do. I know what you would do. And then I have to remember what you would have done and what you would have wanted when you were…not you. Language is a complicated thing and it’s not doing me any damned favors right now.”

“There is no language in which this becomes easier to explain,” Ellana points out.

Bull shrugs. “Between you and me, I don’t think either of us need to.”

Point.

They have to head back soon. Bull to the Chargers, Ellana to Mahanon and the Valos-kas, who’ve decided to adopt them on virtue of Mahanon being wicked good with a knife and so dry of wit it makes a person want for water. Ellana having some tricks that she’s been careful to use judiciously as to not rouse suspicion, is also welcomed into their fold.

When they came from they would be apart for weeks at a time. And it was nothing. But now, even a day seems horrible.

Ellana slowly unlocks her hand from his, every inch of skin not touching his screaming mistakes. Ellana is terrified that one day they’re going to wake up and she’ll be in a Dalish camp and he’ll be somewhere else and maybe this time one of them won’t remember at all.

“How are things with Solas?” Bull asks, pulling her attention away from the constant ache she carries her chest.

“I’ve been careful not to use anything to advanced near him,” Ellana says. After all, Solas would recognize a lot of the magic she knows. He taught it to her. Or at least, he would recognize parts of her spellwork. She’s incorporated a lot of his teachings and theories into her repertoire. Working with what she knows is safe for a Dalish mage of limited experience is profoundly annoying. Ellana gives herself some credit for being a capable fighter the first time around. Ellana sometimes has to change mid-spell to stop herself from pulling off something too advanced.

Though she’s also been very good at laying plausible tracks to suggest a growing trend in her expertise. Eventually she’ll be able to use at least some of what she considered her basic skills from before. Ellana honestly has no idea how she managed the first time around with her skill set. No wonder everyone thought she was a genius. Now, Ellana knows better. She was damned lucky.

“And I’ve been careful, in general, to not talk to him as much,” Ellana says. “Not too much of a variation from the first time. Emotional appeals didn’t exactly appeal to him the first time around, so I’m not sure if it’s worth it to work towards it the second.”

“He might hesitate.”

“He and Evelyn were closer and I doubt he hesitated when he cleaved her arm off. We’ll see. I know I should have a better track for this, but I honestly don’t know how to treat him. Half the time I just want to roll my eyes at him and mock him with everything I have. The other half I want to cut him down.”

“If you ever swing to the second option let me know,” Bull says, “Your sword might be pretty and mean, but mine’s solid and probably wouldn’t instantly kill him if you took a few swings instead of just the one.”

“I appreciate it,” Ellana says, slowly moving from the wall they’re leaned against — deep in shadow in case someone does happen to look into this exact window that’s more a sliver of a slot — and gently eases the door open. She casts a quick spell to check if anyone’s around. “You first, or me?”

“You, I have better reason to be out late. One second,” Bull says, quickly catching her wrist and turning her. His eye studies her face. She can barely make him out, with the low light. He nods once to himself, breathing out slowly as he lets go. She leans forward and up, resting her forehead against his. The tip of her nose brushes his as she looks into his eye.

“I’m going to know you tomorrow too,” Ellana says. It’s more for herself than it is for him.

“I know,” Bull answers, moving away from her. “Go.”

[scottishvix]

The One Chapter 4: The One Who Will Live On

Cullen gets to grips with this strange new girl that’s dropped into his world.

Since Tumblr seems to be making posts with external links unsearchable, if you’d prefer to read it on AO3, you can find the link to my AO3 page in the sidebar. My Tumblr masterpost is here. As of today, that masterpost will also contain the link to my Spotify playlist for this story. Read on to find out why...

I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the blurriness from my vision. I should have gone to bed hours ago, but there was too much to do. We were still trying to calculate the supplies that had survived the destruction of the Temple, make a count of who had been killed in the initial explosion and who had been killed in the fighting until Lady Trevelyan–now being acclaimed by the people as the Herald of Andraste–had stabilised the Breach. And I should make a start on the letters of condolence to the families of our soldiers.

Deciding that maybe a walk would do to clear my head, I left my tent and decided to do a circuit of the town. Maybe the people would take some comfort from seeing the leadership of the Inquisition present and moving among them. I had barely come through the gates when Varric called me over.

“Curly, you met with Oracle earlier. I couldn’t get anything from the Seeker. How did it go?”

“What do you mean?” Cassandra had mentioned that Varric had taken immediately to the shy woman from another world. Having seen the way he was with Merrill in Kirkwall it didn’t surprise me. Varric seemed to be a better big brother to the misfits he gathered around him than Bartrand had ever been to him.

“I mean,” he said sounding exasperated, “is she going to be shipped off to Val Royeaux as a scapegoat for this mess? The Seeker was pretty quick to jump on her earlier and the kid’s obviously terrified.” He squinted at me. “You can’t possibly think she’s the genius behind all this.”

“Nothing’s been decided yet. We’re meeting again tomorrow.” I decided to throw him a bone. “Her story is pretty… unbelievable. But no, I don’t think she had anything to do with the destruction of the Conclave. Either she’s a very good actress, or she’s genuinely traumatised. And it hasn’t been examined yet, but the stuff she’s wearing seems to back her story up.”

Varric seemed to relax. “Good. Is her story as wild as the one people are telling around here?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been a little busy to listen to gossip.” Tiredness made me sharper than I had intended, but Varric let it slide over him.

“They say that Andraste brought her from another world to sing prophecies for her.”

That floored me. “Sing prophecies for Andraste?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That hut hasn’t been silent since the Seeker brought her back from your little interrogation. Come on.”

“It wasn’t an interrogation,” I protested. But I followed the dwarf, unable to suppress my curiosity. Approaching the cabin she and the unconscious Herald were housed in I nodded to the guards stationed there. I was about to speak to them when I heard the voice floating out the crack under the door.

“I have run through the fields of pain and sighs.

I have fought to see the other side.”

Images flooded through my head. Images of her being beaten, shouted at, threatened, and finally stabbed by a slim man with long brown hair and cold, black eyes. I wondered why hearing her sing of suffering caused me to imagine what her husband had done to her so vividly.

“I am the one, who can recount what we’ve lost.

I am the one, who will live on.”

She held the last note for a spellbinding moment before silence overtook us all. It lasted only a moment before she began again with a new tune.

“Time stood still for a while,

Your hand was holding mine.

The stars that shine in your eyes,

Don’t let them go by.”

I looked at the guards. “Has she been singing for long?” I asked.

“All night,” one answered, confirming Varric’s assertion. “Some make no sense, but several mentioned the Breach, there was one about the Grey Wardens and another about the Nightingale. They…” he hesitated. “They make us see things, Ser. Pictures in our head.”

“You see now why people are calling her the Prophet of Andraste?” Varric asked, drawing me away again. “They know she predicted we’d find the scouts alive on the mountain path and that she knew we’d be facing a pride demon at the Breach. Then they hear her singing those songs and they imagine they see things. I don’t think they’d stand for having her executed.”

“Thank you, Varric. We needed to know that.” I hesitated. Obviously I couldn’t tell him what we had discussed in the Council. But it might be useful to find out what he knew. “Cassandra mentioned that you had spent the most time with Lady McKichan on the way to and from the Temple. What did she tell you?”

Varric squinted at me. Then he seemed to decide he could trust me. “Not much. Honestly, Curly, I learned more from what she didn’t say. She was frightened and completely out of her depth. But she was used to being frightened. She spoke up when she knew something that would be helpful, but otherwise she wanted to draw as little attention to herself as possible. And she seemed to expect that shouting would lead to someone hitting her.” It was as serious as I had ever seen the dwarf. “Someone has tried to beat the spirit out of that kid. And they nearly succeeded. If I didn’t know better, I would say she’d been a slave at some point.”

I nodded. “Not a slave,” I confirmed. “But she has been beaten.” I laid a hand on his shoulder. “I promise that whatever happens tomorrow I’ll make sure she’s treated gently.”

He gave me a crooked grin. “You know, you’re not half bad, Curly.”

Sister Leliana, Ambassador Montilyet, and I assembled in what Leliana insisted on calling ‘The War Room’ early the next morning. As I expected, the Nightingale had already heard the rumours being bandied about the camp naming our two prisoners the Herald and the Prophet of Andraste.

“We simply cannot accuse them of the destruction of the Conclave now. The people will not stand for it,” Josephine commented, echoing Varric’s assertion of the previous night.

“No,” Leliana agreed. “And Lady Trevelyan’s ability to close the rifts and seal the Breach itself make her irreplaceable. But we must still investigate Lady McKichan’s origins. The story she told us is fantastic but she believes it. Unless Solas’ examinations reveal something else I think we must accept it.”

“She wasn’t acting last night,” I told them. “And having seen that wound you will never convince me that she shouldn’t be dead. I can’t think of any magic strong enough to have saved her.”

“You are sure?” Josephine asked. “It couldn’t be managed by a strong spirit healer?”

I shook my head. “I have known two powerful spirit healers. Neither Wynne nor Anders would have been able to save someone with a wound like that. Even if she hadn’t bled out instantly, the damage to the heart would be too extensive.”

“Cassandra is supervising Solas’ examination of her as we speak. We will know more after.” Leliana’s certainty was final and we moved onto other urgent matters.

It was half an hour later when a soft knock on the door yielded those answers. The bald elf laid down the folded bundle of clothes and inclined his head respectfully before addressing me. “Seeker Pentaghast informed me you believed Lady Lily’s scar indicated a fatal wound?” I nodded. I may be trying to modify my opinion of mages, but open apostates still made me nervous. “You were correct. The size, angle, and depth of the scar mean the wound should undoubtedly have been fatal. I know of no magic that would have been able to act quickly enough to save her. She is a walking miracle.”

“And her clothes?” I expected the question from Leliana but it was Josephine who asked.

He shook his head. “The tunic she called a ‘jumper’ was wool and could have come from anywhere. The rest were of materials I have never seen. And while I can profess no knowledge of such matters, Lady Cassandra informed me that the… undergarments were like nothing she had ever seen.”

I was sure I flushed. Solas had begun extracting small items from the bundle and laying them on the table. “I removed these items from the pockets of her coat after leaving her. I have not asked her about any of them. I believed you would want to examine them first. Again, the materials involved are not to be found anywhere in Thedas. I believe she is telling the truth when she says she came from another world on the other side of the Veil.”

We all gazed curiously at the items before us. Leliana picked up a bright pink pouch filled with small, apparently edible bites. She nibbled the edge off one and declared it bad tasting but not poisonous. Then Josephine picked up a small cream tube the size of her thumb, removed the lid, and sniffed delicately. “Vanilla!” she exclaimed in some surprise. I could make nothing of the two differently sized rectangles, one of which had a small rope ending in coiled hooks attached, but the small red thing seemed to be an unusual kind of whistle. Pressing the button on one end of the short, thick metal tube yielded a light at the other. Doing the same with the thinner metal tube revealed a blunted point that left a smear of ink when I drew it lightly over a fingertip.

“You should perhaps also be made aware that Chancellor Roderick is outside preaching their guilt and demanding that the people help him seize them so they can be taken to Val Royeaux for trial.”

I sighed. As far as I could tell the Chancellor seemed to have been determined to cause trouble ever since the Temple exploded.

“Is anyone listening to him?” Leliana asked.

“Very few,” Solas admitted. “The Herald and the Prophet are seen as greater servants of your god. Most people seem to think the Chancellor is trying to test their faith.”

“Good luck to him with that,” I muttered.

Leliana glared at me before turning back to the mage. “There is one more thing. Cassandra told me you mentioned Lady McKichan’s connection to the Fade was in some way unusual. Can you explain that?”

He shook his head. “She is connected to the Fade, for all she claims it does not exist in her world. Perhaps the Veil is thicker, less permeable.”

“What does that mean for us?” I asked. The safety of the people of Haven was my responsibility. If Lily’s presence put them in danger… “Is she more likely to draw demons?”

“Less likely, I would say,” the elf replied. “I cannot guess what effect it will have. Though she is not a mage she is likely to have powers that are not otherwise present here or in her own world.”

“Such as the images people see when she sings?” Josephine had been quiet for a while.

“Exactly. I do not believe she is consciously projecting them, though she could if she wanted to.”

Josephine considered. “If she could use those powers to show people what we face then she could be useful in persuading people to our cause…”

“I would still like to test this ability,” Leliana was as cautious as always. “Without experiencing it ourselves I would be reluctant to-“

At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Cassandra escorted Lily into the room. She looked little better than she had last night, though the dull wool dress that had obviously been borrowed from a servant was cleaner. She was pale and her dark hair hung in slightly frizzy curtains that shadowed her face as she kept her eyes on the floor. Her posture reminded me of a woman who had lived in Honnleath when I was a child. I had once asked my mother why she never looked up. Her husband is not a kind man she had told me. It had been years before I understood what that meant.

“Good morning, my lady,” I said gently. “I trust you slept well?”

She looked up, in surprise. “Well, thank you, Commander.” The dark shadows under her grey eyes gave the lie to her words. Probably she had as little sleep as I did. But the shy smile gave a hint of the pretty woman I thought she must be when you stripped away her fears and insecurity.

Then she noticed the objects on the table. “My phone!” she cried and swept up the palm sized rectangular object. “Please let them still be on there. Please!” she muttered desperately to herself. The black emptiness that had taken up most of one side came to full life and colour beneath her fingers. She tapped and swiped them as quick as instinct in patterns that were too fast to follow. Suddenly she let out a mingled gasp of relief and grief, fingers stilling to take in what was on the object. “Tha gaol agam ort,” she murmured soft and regretful. The words had an elven lilt to them, but the sibilance and hard consonants told me they weren’t words that had ever been heard in Ferelden before.

Cassandra slid the object from the woman’s numb fingers and laid it on the table before us. The blackness had been replaced by an image that could have been a painting had it not been so lifelike. Lily was kneeling in some grass with one dog pressing itself into her side and another resting its front paws on her arm so it could stand to lick her face. She was laughing and looked so carefree. As pretty as I had thought she would be.

She reached down and touched her fingers to the dogs’ faces, whispering those strange words again. I did not need to know them to know what they meant. She loved those dogs and she grieved them. “I’m sorry,” she said softly to the table. “Bear and Mischief are… were my only family. I’ll never see them again, will I?”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Leliana softly touched Lily’s shoulder. She flinched but did not move away. “But probably not. We have more questions for you.”

She swallowed hard, still staring at the picture of her dogs. “What would you like to know?”

Solas was the one to step to the fore. “There have been some interesting phenomena around you, Lady Lily.”

“Not a lady,” she replied automatically before looking up, though I noticed she looked at everyone but the elf. “What phenomena? Not just the knowing the future?”

Solas ignored that she had ignored him. “A demonstration is needed. You know many songs, Lily?” A nod. “Can you think of one that would make no sense to us, but that brings a strong image to your head?”

“Yes. Yes, I have one.” She picked up the object she had called a phone. “You want to hear it?”

“I want you to sing it,” he replied.

“Okay,” she nodded and began to swipe and tap again. “Okay, but it’s easier with the music. It must be on here somewhere. It’s Emma’s ringtone. Ah!”

Another tap and there was noise coming from the rectangle. Music of some kind, but I was certain no one on Thedas had ever heard music like that. I couldn’t even fathom the instruments that would make such notes. Lily’s eyes closed and her head bobbed and foot tapped in time with the rhythm. She began to sing as another woman’s voice piped the same words out of the phone.

“Hang with me in my MMO,

So many places we can go-o.

You’ll never see my actual face.

Our love, our love will be in virtual space.

I’m craving to emote with you,

So many animations I can do-o.

Be anything you want me to be.

Come on, come on and share a potion with me.”

“Enough!” Cassandra’s voice sounded strained. A tap of her finger and Lily had stopped the strange music. “Who was that woman?”

“What woman?” Lily sounded confused. “The singer?”

“Describe her please, Lady Cassandra.”

“Slim, pale skin, red curling hair,” Cassandra began before Solas cut her off.

“Sister Leliana, what was she carrying?”

“A fake mage staff,” Leliana replies without hesitation. “White staff, black and gold grip, green orb at the top.”

“Commander, what was she wearing?”

I recalled the image of the woman who had been dancing in my head a moment before. “A white dress with an obscenely short skirt. A red corset over it and gold trimmings.”

Lily had been growing paler and paler. “Felicia Day? You all saw Felicia Day in her Codex costume? This?” She dropped the phone back on the table. The bottom half of the image now had strange symbols and moving writing. The top half had a picture, the most prominent part of which was the woman I had seen dancing.

“Yes,” Josephine replied. “When you sang, I could see her dancing, as if I was remembering something I had seen before.”

Lily swayed as if lightheaded. Cassandra caught her arm and guided her into a chair but it was my eyes she sought out. “Am I a mage now? I always played a mage. Is that how this works?” There was real fear in her eyes. Did she think that if she was a mage, I would harm her?

I crouched to meet her eye. “There is no magic in you, my lady. You are not a mage. This is unlike anything I have ever seen.”

Her eyes slid closed in relief. “Thank you, mo gaisgeach.” Her eyes flicked open in fright again. Whatever that last phrase had meant, it wasn’t meant to slip out. Her eyes begged me not to ask what it meant. I didn’t. She was worried enough already.

Solas interrupted whatever pleading her eyes were doing. “I believe it has something to do with the different connection your world has to the Fade. It gives you abilities which are not found here, but anyone coming from your world to Thedas would have.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, taking deep calming breaths. While Lily composed herself, Leliana dismissed Solas, though she asked him to remain close, and we were left alone with her again. She seemed calm again, but how many more shocks could she take?

Josephine seemed to have come to the same conclusion. “My lady, you know the people are calling Lady Trevelyan the ‘Herald of Andraste’?”

She smiled softly to her knees. “They’ve started that already? She’ll hate it, but it’s good for the Inquisition. The Chantry will declare you heretics. You know that, right? If they haven’t already. And I’m still not a lady. Never have been, never will be.”

“They are calling you the ‘Prophet of Andraste.’”

As predicted the result was explosive shock. “Thalla ‘s cagainn bruis! You’re not serious? Mhac na galla!” I hoped those phrases were as colourful as they sounded. “I’m not meant to be any part of this!”

“You are, whether you want to be or not.” Leliana was blunt and to the point. “You are here and the people have heard you sing and seen visions when you do. They know you have predicted things before they happen. They have decided that is who you are.”

“But it isn’t. I’m not what they think I am. I’m not a hero.” The tears were coming again. “I’m just a mouse.”

“You are more than a mouse, my lady,” I told her. “By saving the scouts on the mountain pass and warning of the pride demon, you have already helped.” I looked up at the others, met each of the women’s eyes in turn. “We are agreed that she stays? Not as a prisoner, but as a member of the Inquisition?” They all nodded. “Will you stay with us, my lady?”

Her smile was sad as she met my eyes. “I have nowhere else to go.” She made to stand and I held out my hand for her. “Tapadh leat.” She flushed. “I mean, thank you.”

Josephine was scribbling again. “We will find you some more clothes and necessaries. Are you content to continue sharing the cabin you were in last night with Lady Trevelyan?”

She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Leliana was more interested in the business at hand. “Is there anything you can tell us now that will be of use?”

She thought. “Eve will be awake in… two days, I think. By that time, the Chantry will definitely have declared the Inquisition heretical, Chancellor Roderick will still be spewing venom and driving the Commander up the wall, and you may have received an invite for the Herald to go to the Crossroads in the Hinterlands to meet with Mother Giselle.” That seemed to give her pause. “Cach, I hope that doesn’t mean she’ll want to see me as well. The fighting there is horrific.” She shook it off. “Regardless, you will get that invite at some point, so it’s probably a good idea to send Lace Harding out to do as much scouting as she can before Eve and her team arrive.” Josephine and Leliana had both been taking notes but Leliana looked up, startled at the mention of Lead-Scout Harding. Honestly, I hadn’t even known her first name until now.

She looked around again, wary. “I said I would warn about anything that would harm innocents. So I need to let you know that Haven isn’t-“

Her words cut off abruptly and her hands clawed at her throat, as if there were invisible hands strangling her. She pitched forward and I had to dive to catch her as she fell. Cassandra lunged out the door bellowing for Solas as I lowered us to the ground. Her face was darkening and her lips turning blue. Solas was at my side, pale green light flowing from his hands. “She is being magically silenced.” The elf seemed to have lost some of his composure, the words coming out frantic. “This is too powerful; I can’t counter it.” Suddenly her throat was released and she let out a hoarse rasping gasp.

I could only hold her as she wheezed and coughed, clutching at my arm as if it was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

“Lie still, Lily.” Solas had regained his calm, and his voice was soothing. “I’m going to try and take the pain away.” She nodded, lying as still as she could while her chest heaved to draw in as much air as possible. He held his hands up near her throat and she flinched. Solas paused. “I promise I will not hurt you.” She nodded again. I could feel the push and pull of his magic as the healing flowed into her, watched as her breathing eased and became less hoarse sounding.

When Solas stood, he addressed the whole room. “I assume Lady Lily was attempting to impart some sort of information or warning?” At Leliana’s inclined head he continued. “Someone, I assume whoever brought her here, does not want her to give you that information. This was not a true attempt on her life, but a warning. I would not pursue this line of questioning.”

“Why that?” I could feel her trembling and her voice was weak, but it was enough to have Solas turn. “I was able to give plenty of other information. Why that one thing that could save so many lives?”

“I do not know. But I would not risk trying to speak of it again.”

She nodded again and gave a small smile as she sat up. “Ma serannas, Solas.”

I hadn’t seen him look so startled before. “You speak Elvhen?”

Lily looked a little stronger now. “A few words and phrases. I’m good at picking up languages.” She gave a small smile. “Usually the curses or terms of endearment, but it’s only polite to thank you in your own tongue.”

Solas nodded and returned the smile. “You are welcome, Lily.” He looked up as I helped Lily to her feet again. “I would advise she is allowed to rest.”

The meeting broke up then, Cassandra again escorting Lily back to her new quarters. I couldn’t help but wonder how she would fit into life in Haven. She was so fragile, timid. Even thanking him she hadn’t been able to meet Solas’ eyes. But there was a strength and determination there, too. She wanted to help. And what warning was she so upset about not being able to give?

Tha gaol agam ort - I love you

mo gaisgeach - my hero

Thalla ‘s cagainn bruis - Away and chew a brush (STFU and clean your mouth out)

Tapadh leat - Thank you

Cach - Shit