Private Tales The Babysitting Job

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Ceilidh Trahan

Ceilidh Trahan

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Ceilidh Trahan was less than thrilled with her best friend at the moment.

Queen Mab had decided that it was time for Ceilidh to get some help. You are drinking too much and you are making foolish decisions, Cee. Ceilidh had glared then and she glared now as she thought about the conversation. I hired you someone. He is perfect and here is what you are paying him. Way too much, Ceilidh noted. I am worried about you. This is your Queen telling you that you will take him and you have no choice. Ceilidh may have called her Queen and best friend a fucking bitch at that point to which Mab replied with love you too, Cee.

Fucking. Bitch.

So now Ceilidh sat in her office looking extremely pissed off while she waited for her bodyguard to arrive. Ceilidh had not even paid attention to what the man did before this. She had been very irritated by that point. She did not know if she was more upset with the fact that Mab was right or that Mab had literally hired her a babysitter that she did not want and had to pay for. Definitely the latter. Ceilidh did not have any issues. She was fine. Everything was fine.

She poured herself another glass of wine and cursed when she saw the bottle was empty. It was only mid morning and Ceilidh was already finishing her first bottle. At least she had not brought out the liquor yet.

There was a knock at the door and Ceilidh quickly shoved the empty wine bottle in a drawer before downing her glass and plopping it in there too. Okay...maybe she did have a problem.

One of her servants poked her head in and announced that Griogair Llywelyn had arrived. "Show him in, Maddie," the High Lady of the Winter Court replied.
 
Griogair had only heard stories of lady Trahan, she had gone into isolation not long before he was born, her thousand years of mourning that recently she had broken, he didn't exactly know what to expect from her or what a thousand years of isolation could do to a Duanann but he had technically already been hired so he had a job to do.

He would follow the servant through the large mansion, its corridors and room were almost like a maze, he wonder why someone would need such a large place for a single person, but there was one consistent thing, each room was chock-full of art, of all kinds he wondered if this was hers, he knew she was an artist but he never had seen so much art in one place before.

He would wait quietly until he was shown into the ladies study, nervous he had never been responsible for anyone's safety but his own, so this would be new to him. Griogair straightened out his clothing, he elected not to wear his armour for this meeting, it was scruffy and worn, not really something you want to wear to meeting a high lord of the winter court, though he was still carrying his sword.

He would bow once he entered "Lady Trahan" he would say keeping his orange glowing eyes on the floor "I'm here on request of queen mab to serve as your bodyguard"
 
Ceilidh looked up as Griogair came into her office. She gave him a cursory look and noted that Mab knew she liked good looking men surrounding her. Bitch knows me too well, she thought as she took in his presence. He had the look of a bodyguard. He would do.

"Please sit," The High Lady gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. "Queen Mab did not give me a choice in this little arrangement. I was told that this was happening and what I would be paying you."

Ceilidh sighed and finally looked up again. She did not want to be mean to this man. She was more frustrated with her best friend than him anyways.

"Sorry, I just do not believe I need a bodyguard. I do not know why she thought I did."

She did know. Mab was worried about Ceilidh's drinking and the males it led her to bringing home.

"Did she give you an idea of what your duties would be? Because she did not tell me."
 
Griogair followed her instruction and took the seat that stood in front of her desk. he sat and listen until it was his turn, he would try to put things as honestly and diplomatically as possible, as it seemed he was in the middle of a little spat between the high lord and the queen.

"I understand that this arrangement is... against your will and she did give me specific instruction and duties but it in her words I am to... 'babysit you' as she put it, to keep you out of trouble and try and to try to curb your drinking."

He wasn't currently enjoying being the middle man between these two women, for whatever reason was going on.
 
Lady Ceilidh Trahan growled in the most unladylike way as she pushed her chair back and stood. She started to pace without making another word. "Babysit me...out of trouble...drinking..." Those were the phrases that she repeated with increasing anger. Fucking and bitch could also be heard. You get drunk and sleep with your best friends ex one time and now you are an alcoholic.

She finally stopped pacing (and swearing) and turned to look at Griogair. Yes, she was a little tipsy...no, it was not a good look on her. She was already proving Mab right.

"So you are to be my shadow then? I suppose I should provide you a room on the estate if you need one." She didn't know his life so he may have a residence but he could have a place here that would always be open.

"Tell me about yourself," Ceilidh said as she worked her way back over to her desk and took her seat.
 
Griogair didn't expect to her come from Lady Ceilidn and her quick shift to standing. he watched as she paced behind her desk as she muttered his own words back to herself with increasing anger and the occasional swear. He didn't know what to do, he was obviously involved in something he clearly didn't understand. Was this the game? was he someone's pawn right now? this thought didn't sit well with him but it was quickly interrupted with questions from the lady.

"Yes, I think that's a suitable comparison in more ways than one. I do own a home but it's probably best I live on the premises" He wasn't prepared for her to ask about himself, it was often he got this question "uhh what would like to know, my background? my skills?" he wasn't sure what she wanted specifically.
 
"Well you are going to be my shadow and I feel like I should know about my shadow. I guess background and skills is a good place to start. Why did the Queen choose you to babysit me?" Gods, she hated that word with a burning passion. She was over ten thousand years old and she had a babysitter.

"Also, how old are you?" The last question did not need to be asked and she knew it would be slightly insulting but she asked anyways.

She really needed more wine. Much more. All the wine. "Also...I am not an alcoholic..." She trailed off, she most definitely was but that was a fact she was not ready to admit.
 
He had felt the question about his age was one she didn't want the answer to but one asked anyway if only to confirm something and knowing that he decided to rip the bandage of first. "I'm just short of a millennium, I wasn't born when you went into your isolation."

He braced himself for her reaction and would wait until she had calmed before continuing to answer her other question.

"as for my background, I come from a minor house, I'm trained scout and ranger, I can track, hunt, recognise fauna and flora and finally can turn invisible" he would disappear in the chair he was sat "I wasn't lying when I said I would be your shadow more ways than one." he would reappear in the seat in front of her. "Did I cover everything you wish to know?"
 
If Ceilidh would have been drinking, she would have choked on it when Griogair told her his age. He was less than a thousand years old. She closed her eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. She was contemplating regicide very heavily at the moment. Mab has sent her a child and he was supposed to protect her. Ceilidh stayed quiet though and tried to process this information as well as how she was going to murder her best friend. Slowly. Painfully.

All of his skills seemed to be better used elsewhere then he went invisible and she sat up straighter in her chair. Even his affinity would be better used elsewhere. Why had he been chosen? "You have impressive skills, Griogair. Why are you using them to babysit me? I am sure you had a different job where your skills would be put to use."

Although that invisible one would be good for sneaking up on her if she was trying to sneak some alcohol. Fuck.
 
she was dealing with age reveal better than he expected, remaining calm at least but she was clearly wasn't happy with his age. the question, to be honest, was one he had been thinking about, the queen picked him and he wasn't going to refuse her especially given his affinity didn't often give him these kinds of opportunities.

"Perhaps you should ask the queen that, she's the one who asked me and wouldn't refuse a request from the queen. perhaps she sees something neither of us do."
 
Ceilidh left out a huff. She was not going to ask her royal highness why. Ceilidh had a feeling it was a combination of you fucked my ex and I am worried you might do it again if you drink too much. She could not blame Mab, of course, she had been making bad decisions. It still irritated her though.

"Come on, I'll show you to your rooms," Ceilidh said as she stood and started towards the door.

She led them back out towards the front of the mansion and then up one side of the grand staircase. Her walls were covered in art and many depicted Mab, Asemir, Ceilidh, and Trahan throughout the years. The four had been inseparable for so long. Her fingers glided along one of the portraits of the friends all laughing together. It was one of her favorites.

Ceilidh finally opened a door and led Griogair into a large room. It was simply decorated with a huge bed, a sitting area with fireplace, a desk, a chest of drawers, and an armoire.

"This will be your room. If you need another, I can arrange that."
 
Grigair would fall behind the lady following her through the house he noticed multiple paintings of Queen Mab, the lady and a few others, there was one of the group laughing, where the lady and the queen friend? are they still friends? slowly pieces began to come into place in his mind as this new piece context was revealed to him, was he sent as both to watch over a friend from doing something reckless and way to annoy a friend? Apparently, he was a pawn in a game just not thee 'Game'.

"your art is lovely, did you paint everything yourself?" he would ask as they walk by the painting.

once they reached his new room, his eyes scanned the room taking its size, the room by itself was bigger than the cottage he owned. "This room will more than suffice, my lady. thank you, I'll move some of my personal effects in the coming days." he didn't know they made beds so large.
 
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"Yes," Ceilidh said simply. "My affinity is muse. I have a special talent with painting and art in general. It is my business..."
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The next week passed rather uneventfully. Griogair moved in and he got into the routine of being her shadow from sunrise to sunset and then usually until she retired for the night. She tended to forget he was there even when he was hovering in the corner or sitting right across from her. It was strange that she was not annoyed by the man that hounded her every waking moment.

Griogair did not know about her Night business though. He did not know about how she snuck out sometimes to meet her deliveries and get them settled into a room in the other side of the mansion. He did not know that she ran and sheltered runaway women from the Night Court.

Like always, she slipped out of her room in the middle of the night and headed to her back gate. The hidden back gate that only those that worked for Ceilidh and her secret organization knew about. Frederick looked at Ceilidh and she knew immediately that the girl she had sent him to save was dead. Frederick had her and then they were attacked. The girl was killed and Frederick barely made back.

Ceilidh did not go to bed. She went to her studio and started to drink. She drank from the time she got there until the sun was in the sky. There were at least ten drying canvases spread around the area as she held a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a paint brush in the other.
 
Griogair was an early riser he was usually awake before the dawn, he always enjoyed watching the sunrise each morning with herbal tea and this was when he did his practice, usually just going over his moves with his sword and shield, and physical training all done before the lady wakes.

He usually greeted her in the morning outside her room but he waited there for some time before opening the door looking to see if she was in there, to find her not there. he began to search the building for her, "lady Ceilidh!" he would call out, asking servants if they had seen her to no avail. He eventually came to a large d door that was rather grand that he'd yet to check appeared to be a ballroom from the outside.

He would knock on the door before opening it "lady Ceilidh?" he would ask into the room as he opened seeing her standing there with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. drying canvases in front of her and four bottles of wine at her feet, she was covered in paint, a paintbrush stuck in a makeshift bun.

"lady Ceilidh, are you alright?" He would say as he approached her, a bit of concern in his voice.
 
Ceilidh did not know time had even passed until she heard her name. Her face turned to looked at the tall red haired duanann and she smiled sweetly as she took another drink of her almost empty bottle. "Griogair!" She yelled louder than necessary at the same time she threw up her right hand and the paintbrush went flying behind her. "Griogair! I decided to paint and they are all terrible!"

Her voice was still an octave or two higher than it needed to be. In truth, her paintings were perfect. They were always perfect. She just fell into a place of self-hatred when she painted using her affinity and nothing was ever perfect. Some of the canvases held portraits of her late husband while others were of the beautiful Queen Mab with her daughter - and Ceilidh's goddaughter - Ruosin.

There were some landscapes scattered about and then one of Griogair that sat on her easel. It was a perfect portrait of him. His eyes spoke to the person who looked at it. It was like Ceilidh had captured her bodyguards soul with paint.

"I lost one, Griogair. I lost one..." She took the last few drinks from her bottle and plopped down on her couch.
 
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Griogair tilted his head slightly at the woman, this probably was the most friendly he had seen since starting his job, she was clearly drunk the evidence was at her feet and in her hand, this was probably what the queen was talking about when mentioning her drinking to him

His eyes drifted to the canvas for more detail when she mentioned they were terrible, he expected to see the queen, there was a man he didn't recognise but he had his face many times amongst other painting of the house and then there was the one he didn't expect. The one of himself. He stopped in his track when he saw it and for a few moments, the world around him fell away as he stared into its eyes.

Shaking his head to refocus on the lady, he followed her to the couch standing beside it, looking down at her "lost one? what did you lose?" He had no idea what she was going on about.​
 
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"One of the girls," Ceilidh burst into tears. The cries wracked her body as she shook and looked at him. "Just...save...dead...failure..." The Lady made perfect sense of the sentences in her head but only certain words came out between sobs. She looked at Griogair like he totally understood and knew what she meant. Of course, he didn't.

She lifted her empty bottle to her lips and then threw it across the studio. The wall was too far so she did not get the satisfaction of it smashing before it hit the ground. She needed to drink more. She needed to not feel. Why did she still feel? Fuck.

"Fuck! Fuck!" One of the nearby canvas' went up in flames as she continued to curse and cry.
 
Griogair didn't know what girls she was on or what to do when she burst into tears, he couldn't understand what she meant through sobbing t then she threw the bottle and he was quickly beginning to understand why the queen wanted her babysat if this what she was like when drunk.

"Lady Ceilidh, I think you need to get some rest and sober up, you're not in your right mind" things were beginning to escalate quickly, he would offer her a hand to help her up from the couch. "I think some sleep will do you good, my lady"
 
Ceilidh looked at Griogair and then at his hand. She was trying to tell him important things and he did not care. He just wanted to make her go to sleep. She was not tired. She did not want to go to sleep. She wanted to tell him about the young fae who she had tried to save and had died. The young fae that she had failed.

He did not care though. Her words were plain as day. Why did he not get it?

"Grioga...I nee...underst..." Again, her words made perfect sense to her. She was even nice enough to speak slowly for him. She needed him to understand. Understand why she was so upset.

She looked at his hand and reluctantly put hers in it but she did not stand. She just stared at him, willing him to understand her.
 
Her slurring speech was getting worse, It seemed she didn't understand that fact. she needed some rest and he wasn't going to take no for an answer from her.

"My lady you are very drunk I cannot understand what you are trying to say. so please go rest and you can tell me about this girl when you're sober." His hand would wrap around hers he would begin to shift his weight to pull her up from the couch and to standing, and would begin to lead her to her room, his hand still wrapped around hers in a gentle grip.​
 
Ceilidh walked - stumbled - along with her hand in Griogair's firm and gentle grip. She stayed silent as they walked because she was pouting...like a child. A drunk, petulant, ten thousand year old child. The worst kind.

It took them longer than it should of to make their way to her room since she was stumbling around like an idiot and he was trying very hard to keep her upright. Once they got to her room, Griogair was nice enough to bring her to her bed and sit her down on it.

The poor man. Ceilidh pulled him down with her as she flung herself back on said bed.
 
He was glad she wasn’t resisting him basically dragging her to bed, only pouting in defiance like a child really. It wasn’t easy getting her to bed but they eventually made it.

He brought her to the bed, sitting her on the edge it and was about to go down to remove her shoe but before he could she pulled him on top of her.

His cheeks were flush red and his glowing markings seemed to grew ever slightly brighter, he was staring into her face mere inches away. “Aaugh…” he tried to say something but his throat felt tight and only that quiet low tone escape his lip as his body was frozen with panic, not knowing what to do.​
 
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"Shhhhhh," Ceilidh soothed and ran her fingers through his fiery hair. She barely knew this man but that was more than she could say for the last man that warmed her bed. At least this one had been here for a week now. That was an acceptable time, she thought in her drunk brain, Mab cannot get mad at that. Mab.

Ceilidh let out a growl at the thought of her best friend and attempted to move Griogair. It was not hard to push him to the side since he was in shock still. He may have been bigger and stronger but shock had surprising effects on people.

"Sorry," she said quietly and sat up. She kicked her shoes off with some struggling and then laid back down how she had been before.

Then...she started crying again. Poor Griogair was going to run screaming from the estate after this encounter...she just knew it.
 
Ceilidh shush silenced the man, her hands running his sent chills down his spine. The tension between them was almost palpable, then she growled and before he knew he was flat on his back next to her, wondering just what happened.

He stood up, straightening out his clothes as she apologised "no need to apologise" as became to walk to the door, she was drunk and had been warned about how she was drunk but even so it was different to experience it. He raised his hand for the door handle and she began to cry, his hand pausing on hearing it.

He wanted to leave to figure out this feeling he had but, he didn't want to abandon her when she was clearly in some sort of distress. he stood there for a second, fighting with each side until he finally let out a sigh and turned back to face the bed began walking until he seated himself at the end of her bed.
 
This is why Ceilidh just stayed drunk. She preferred to not feel anything and now she had cried two times in front of her bodyguard. She was sobering up faster than she would like and she took a deep breath before looking over at Griogair.

"I save Night Court women. One was killed while trying to escape." Ceilidh managed to say words that made sense. It just took her longer to speak them than normal. She took another steadying breath and wiped her eyes. "Let me sleep and I will find you after," she touched his shoulder and smiled. "Sleep. Promise."

After Griogair left, she laid down and did as she promised. She passed the fuck out.

She was not sure how long it had been when she woke up but she was sober again. Sober and feeling. She hated being both of those things. She crawled out of bed and changed into a simple flowy blue dress. She walked downstairs as she searched for her bodyguard.
 
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