ó duibhir, ríoghnán cían

[ríoghnán cían ó duibhir]

general

full name: Ríoghnán Cían Ó Duibhir (RYE-nan KEE-an oh-DWEER)
nicknames: Ry, Ryn, O’Dwyer, O'Dweer
birthdate: May twenty-first (seventeen)
sexuality: Homosexual
blood status: Half-blood (half wizard, half aes sídhe)
house: Ravenclaw
year/occupation: Seventh
wand: Hawthorn, phoenix tail feather, thirteen inches
play-by: Jason Poisson

personality

likes:

• Starting the morning of his own accord, with tea and a strong cigarette
  
• Engaging in the mysterious arts (tarot, runes, and the i ching)
  
• Losing himself in the mathematics of Potions and Arithmancy
  
• Strong men with strong arms and strong minds
  
• Solitary broom rides and walks at night
  
• Soft Muggle folk music (especially songs in Irish Gaelic)
  
• Experimenting with Otherworldly magic
  
• The prospect of continuing onto higher education after Hogwarts
  

dislikes:

• Being shaken awake at inappropriate hours of the morning
  
• The bias of history, philosophy and ethics as taught in Divination
  
• Coffee and weak cigarettes
  
• Magical music (especially the Weird Sisters)
  
• Deceptive, cheating, unromantic, directionless men
  
• Niggling pet peeves (e.g., an even number of sugars in his tea)
  

strengths: at least three, use the bullet points

• Intelligent
  
• Determined
  
• Studious
  

weaknesses: at least three, use the bullet points

• Overly idealistic in romance
  
• Bitter by way of life and love, history and experience
  
• Extremely short-tempered
  

fears: at least two, use the bullet points

• Losing his mother
  
• Arachnids
  
• Heartbreak
  

overall: Ríoghnán is shrewdly intelligent, driven by a love of academia and knowledge. His quirkiness shines through in his love of the mysterious arts (tarot, runes, and the i ching), and his passion for engaging with and interpreting them. His fuse is remarkably short, lit and fired off by pet peeves, stupidity, ignorance, and anything relevant to his ex-boyfriend. He no longer has a heart he is willing to give away, for much has happened in the past (within and external to Hogwarts), and he is wary of the prospect of romance and a relationship; he fears heartbreak intensely.

Despite the fortress around his heart, he subconsciously hopes for a long-term commitment some day, and to have somebody to love once again. It is this hidden passion that still brings a smile to the corners of his lips, and fuels the fierce loyalty, devotion, and care that he has for his close friends. Ríoghnán prefers subtlety above all else in all domains of his life experiences, be they conflict or calm, reading the runes or etching meanings into essays. Above all, however, and overarching his every waking moment, is a corner of his mind devoted to fearing the loss of his mother, for then he would truly be alone.

background

mother: Deirdre Áine Ó Duibhir (née Ó Braoin), forty-seven, alternative healer in private practice (specialises in Otherworldly healing methodology)
father: Cianán Dáithí Ó Duibhir, deceased
siblings: N/A
other relatives: N/A
overall: It was nearing the end of autumn in Galway, Ireland, when the sun was creeping up to meet a slumberous city. On the outskirts of town, in a small cottage surrounded by hawthorn trees on a hill, warm-hearted Deirdre Ó Duibhir lay in the throws of labour upon her bed, head propped up on a mound of pillows, her husband Cianán clutching her hand with white knuckles. At the foot of the bed knelt their maid Caoimhe, a slender and pale girl, fair-haired with pointed ears and the gentle, pure smile that the couple had known and cherished for years now. Deirdre gasped with fatigue, her grasp on her husband’s hand ebbing so slightly. There was an air of grim anticipation and delicate faerie magic in the air.

“Push!” Caoimhe urged, her own breath caught in her chest with hope. “One more, push hard, ma’am! He’s almost here!”

Deirdre wailed as she felt every part of her body clench and tighten. She gripped onto her husband’s hand as hard as possible, gritting her teeth as she felt the pain shoot through her abdomen. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. Cianán exhaled, watching on as Caoimhe crossed herself with a relieved smile and leaned forward with a white cloth to receive a newborn child brought into the world surrounded by an otherworldly glow.

“He’s here, he’s here!” Caoimhe said, excited and elated as she severed the cord and the glow around the baby began to fade. “Sir, ma’am… Your son…” She got to her feet, crossing to the bedside and bundling the newborn into Cianán’s arms. “What will you name him?”

Deirdre smiled faintly, feeling exhaustion touching every part of herself, and looked into the adoring eyes of her husband. She reached up and touched a glowing finger to her baby’s forehead, sighing with relief as he began to cry.

“Ríoghnán… Ríoghnán Cían…” she breathed. “The ancient king…”

Cianán smiled warmly, nodding and holding the baby close to his chest and rocking it until the crying ebbed. “A beautiful name. Ríoghnán Cían Ó Duibhir. A true name for a child of the sídhe.”

“Half… Half-child,” Caoimhe said politely, bowing her head slightly. “He is the essence of both witch and sídhe. My congratulations to both of you.” She curtsied.

Deirdre laughed softly, the radiance in her eyes dancing as she looked up at the maid who had been with them for as long as she and Cianán had been wed. She knew Caoimhe needed no words, for the maid could feel her warmth and gratitude at nursing her through all she had endured the past nine months. Caoimhe knew as well, and she bowed her head again as she watched Cianán settle the newbown baby in Deirdre’s arms.

Together they were in that house on the hill, a wizardly husband and his wife from the Otherworld, surrounded by good faerie magic and the uplifting of new life. With them, their maid of five years, herself a child of the Otherworld, a pure soul who had helped the half-ling son Ríoghnán Ailín Ó Duibhir into the world. Soon Caoimhe would leave, for her cosmic contract had come to end and she would no longer be their maid. She would return to the Otherworld, destined to cross the bridge between the two worlds and visit them on occasion. Her permanence in their lives would no longer be… Yet despite the solemnity of her imminent departure, the Ó Duibhir family were never happier, and the three of them were safe, blessed, and wise…

* * *

On the eve of Ry’s ninth birthday, Deirdre and Cianán turned from their dinner to a knock at their front door. Ry continued to eat his food, leaving the sausages he loved until last. Deirdre rose from her seat at the dinner table and swept over to the front door, opening it and taking a step back, clamping a hand to her mouth. Shock shot through her like electricity, as she stared at her sister Brón standing on the doorstep. Tears streaming down Brón’s face as she softly sang a mournful lament, shaking her head as she extended her hands forth, palms facing upwards.

“No… Brón… NO!!!” Deirdre shrieked, stumbling further backwards until her back crashed against the wall of the family room. “Why?!”

Cianán looked on mutely, fear clutching at his heart, twisting it – he knew who his wife’s sister was, and what she was. His breath was shallow. Ry dropped his fork, silent as it clattered onto the plate, tipping off it and landing with a thud on the wooden floor. He vaguely remembered his mother’s tales from when he was much younger, of pale Otherworldly women who keened a sorrowful lament to herald impending death at the house of one who was to pass on. A bean sídhe, she called it. A banshee.

Brón stopped lilting, tears trickling down her cheeks as she shook her head again. Her voice was empty of emotion from the heart, singing and speaking in sombre minor tones.

“Deirdre… You know that you cannot escape death, in as much as I would wish and hope it to never touch you…” she whispered, her hands and lips trembling. “I wish you had never left us for this world, for the daoine sídhe miss you so… and I miss you also. I know you are happy here, and the child you have birthed has been blessed with all the good magic from this world and from ours. But it is time for… it is… time… you know it must be this way…”

Deirdre shook her head, her fingers and face a ghostly shade of white as tears began to run swiftly down her face. Her shoulder shook, her body racked with sobs. At the table, Cianán instinctively moved away from his chair and instinctively wrapped a protective arm around Ry, who sat in his chair with a soundless face of terror.

“Brón, please… Please don’t…” Deirdre wept, clutching her hands to her heart as she felt it break; why, she did not know… “You know how happy I am here… You have to go back to them and make an appeal… Something to make them change their minds… Please! I’ll go with you… I’ll return to the Otherworld… Please, just leave them…”

Brón shook her head gravely. “You know the law, Deirdre… You know it very well. You took a risk when you left us and the Council gave you the benefit of the doubt… But we don’t ever fall with child to a wizard and you know it. We exist alongside the wizarding world, in parallel with them… We rarely exist with them… I’m sorry, Deidre, but I have no choice… If I do not take him to them, they will arrive and kill him here on sight…”

Deirdre covered her mouth with a trembling hand to stifle her screams, feeling her heart break as she watched on. Brón turned towards Cianán, a single tear running down her cheek as she closed her eyes and extended her palms. Shackles appeared at Cianán’s wrists and ankles, binding them together, forcing him to stand upwards. In a flash he was by Brón’s side, his eyes now void of emotion, empty and hollow. He had feared this day since he and Deirdre had married, a wedding shrouded in secrecy on the Winter Solstice when three planets were aligned together in a sky of dancing lights – one day every three hundred years when the Council of the sídhe were unable to see into the wizarding world.

Deirdre ran over to Ry, holding him close as tears began to well up in his eyes. She clutched him to her, promising herself then to never let anything like this happen to her son. She could not leave with her sister, she knew, for the Council would take Cianán anyway, and little Ry would be left alone without a guardian. There was no choice now, and her heart was pierced in one last break as she admitted defeat and the fifteen years of subconscious apprehension suddenly caved in on her. She wailed in pain and heartbreak, and Brón’s face was streaked with tears as she wailed with her sister, a piercing scream that broke the glass ornaments atop the mantelpiece above the fireplace and caused Ry to clamp his hands to his ears, crying.

Deirdre sank to the floor, still clutching onto her young son as Brón turned to the doorway and began to keen, to once again sing her mournful lament. Cianán roared with pain, his own heart shattering as he was forced to follow her. They retreated into the darkness, shadows and outlines barely visible until suddenly a brilliant glow surrounded them and vanished as quickly as it had come.

Then, there was only darkness, and in the family room of a small cottage upon the hill of hawthorn trees, an Otherworldly faerie woman and her half-ling child clung to each other, the goodness of all their magic frozen now, as they wept until the dawn.

* * *

The train ride was quiet. Somehow, Ry had found himself a carriage, and there was nobody else inside with him. He sat by the window, with a good book perched in his hand, the landscape rushing by outside. Ry remembered how reluctant his mother had been to let him go, to allow him to begin studying wizarding magic without a father at home to guide him. But amongst the concern, Deirdre had placed a blind sense of faith in the mysterious castled school she had heard much about from her late husband.

Ry could remember the stories his father had told him when he was much, much younger; when he had still been in diapers. A great castle girdled by a protective shield, with a great lake and a dark, mysterious forest. There was great prestige in this school, a formidable castle of education revered in the wizarding world, and to be chosen was a very special privilege, his father had said. Yet as the train wound on through the countryside of mid-England, Ry was not as hopeful and awed as he knew his father would have expected of him. Instead, he was sad, for he wished his father were there to experience every step of the journey with him.

Ry shook his head, feeling the bitter heaviness of his heart weighing him down. But there was nobody there to help him to pull it up again, and so he sighed as he bookmarked the page in his book and slipped it back into his trunk, pulling out instead a small drawstring pouch. He sat himself down, cross-legged on the floor, and remembered what the book had said…

The three-rune spread is particularly useful in giving an overall picture, placing an issue in its context by showing the events that have led up to it, the issue itself, and, finally, the most likely future outcome.

He opened the bag and blindly chose a rune, setting aside the pouch and turning the grey pebble to face upwards. It was hagall. He recalled how to interpret it…

Challenges have occurred in your life. These are not to be feared, but embraced. A hailstorm may seem daunting, but if you catch a hailstone you will realise that it is only water. So it is with challenges. Every challenge comes to teach. Remember, the greater the challenge, potentially the more wisdom you can acquire.

He laughed derisively to himself, knowing how accurate the runes could be. There had certainly been challenges… He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, drawing a second rune… nied.

What we want and what we need in our lives are often completely different. If you want to be strong, you will need to examine your weaknesses. This creates a paradox. It is only when you realise that the weaknesses need to be faced and turned to strengths, that you will begin to understand the difference between wants and needs. To be strong, you must first experience weakness. And to find your path, you must first lose it.

Ry knew what he wanted and what he needed. He stared, perplexed, at the rune for a moment, wondering why it was telling him that his wants and needs were different when they were, in fact, one and the same – his father to return and make the family whole again. He arched an eyebrow and breathed deeply again as he drew a third rune from the pouch… eoh.

The future will be a time for transformation; a time to let go of the old and embrace the new. It will be a time of death, the dying of the past, and yet it will also be a time of new beginnings, a new life, and new dreams. The only constant is change. Do not be afraid; change is scary, but if you rain true to yourself and keep your path, you will soon find yourself basking in the fresh sun of new enlightenments.

Ry turned the rune over in his hands a few times, contemplating what it meant for the future. He knew it was right, in a way, and yet he knew that his past would not be easy to let go of. He knew too that he had been living in the past for more than two years, missing his father immensely… He lined the runes up side by side. Hagall. Nied. Eoh. Suddenly a clap of thunder sounded outside, and he glanced up towards the window, out to the darkening sky that stretched as far as the eye could see. And then, he found himself lost in thought once again, waiting for the train to finish its journey.

* * *

Ry sat before the swarm of black robed figures divided into four along the length of the Great Hall, nervously gripping onto the edge of the battered stool. There were faces before him, of others who were as apprehensive as he. The hat felt heavy upon his head, threatening to slip down past his ears and envelop his head entirely. It was moving, he could feel it. It was speaking, chanting… His lack of knowledge of what would happen next was terrifying to his heart, a heart that thumped in his chest and dilated his pupils in grim expectation of something… anything…

“RAVENCLAW!”

* * *

They sat by the Great Lake, two slender fifteen-year-old boys in robes of black lined with royal blue. But they took care to sit far enough way to avoid the Giant Squid, wary of its tentacle’s reach. One’s arms were around the other, and they sat close, feeling each other’s body heat through their cloaks and robes. A kiss was shared between them, tender and longing, and the skin of each tingled at the other’s slightest touch. There was passion there, gentle passion imbued with innocence and a sense of being carefree.

“I love you…” Ry murmured, looking into the deep sapphire eyes that had, against his expectations, captured his heart.

“I love you too, Ry. I’ll never hurt you... Ever.”

* * *

Ry walked down the fifth floor corridor, nose deep in a book about the i ching. He felt invigorated for the first time in years – he had a beautiful, caring boyfriend, a stable life at Hogwarts, and sense of balance he had not felt since his younger years. He smiled slightly to himself as that notion crossed his mind, and he walked a little more slowly, enjoying the sensation of the happiness and enlightenment that the runes had foreshadowed during that very first train ride to Hogwarts. He looked up from his book as he rounded a corner and stepped onto the spiral stairs that led up to the sixth floor. He paused as he heard a hoarse moan from somewhere upwards, and whispers that he could quite discern.

Ry juggled his options in his mind – retreat and take the long way through to the other side of the castle to get up to the sixth floor, or swiftly walk past the inevitable couple and ignore any consequential awkwardness. He steeled himself and closed his book, walking quickly up the spiralling stairs with the view to emerge at the sixth floor and hurry to the Ravenclaw common room. And then he saw something that made him stop in his track and his heart stop in his chest.

The couple broke apart from their intimate embrace, the figure on the left wearing black robes lined with emerald green, and the right lined with emerald blue. They look towards him at the same time, and the boy on the right took a step back as his eyes met Ry’s. Ry felt his heart fracture, crack by agonising crack, threatening to shatter into a million pieces.

“Ry…”

Tears welled in Ry’s eyes, and he felt the final break as he backed down the stairs, shaking his head, and once he found level ground he fled from the base of the stairs in the opposite direction, around the corner and back down the corridor that he wished he had never walked along. He pushed his way past people, some of whom called after him, asking him if he was okay, wondering what was wrong. If only they knew…

* * *

Dear Diary,

The train ride this year is lively. I can’t believe it’s going to be my final year at Hogwarts. My final year of being a prefect, and making a student difference to the community... My friends are with me, but I wish Mam could be here too. She doesn’t know about the world that Da talked about in his night time tales. She doesn’t know how great Hogwarts really is. I wish she could… and maybe she will one day.

This is just a short entry. The fortress around my heart is solid enough now to withstand anything. I saw my ex-boyfriend on the platform at Kings Cross… and there was no difference in how I felt. Still nothing. I’m kind of thankful for that. If Mam had let me have my way, the sídhe magic would have completed everything, and I wouldn’t even see him around anymore… and he wouldn’t see me. But… you can’t have everything you want in life. The runes were right…

We’re about to reach Hogwarts. I’ll write again soon, I’m sure… But until then…

“Is fada an bóthar nach mbíonn casadh ann.”

roleplayer

alias: Xuan
experience: Seven years
origin: Caution
other characters: None… yet

[robbie !]

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