Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE HARSH SOUND OF DRUMS shook Saoirse awake. She had stayed the night at the Quinn's as she was going away with them to avoid the nonsense that was taking place (and because her mum and dad were away for work).Looking to her side she could see her glass of water, from last night, violently shaking on the night stand.
Stepping out of bed, Saoirse noticed Erin's clothes that she had laid out last night were gone along with Erin. Assuming she was already downstairs, the brunette with blonde streaks lazily slipped on her clothes for the day and made her way downstairs.
As she descended down the stairs she could hear the sounds of Mrs Quinn's raucous voice. "Already? It's started already?"
"I think it's just a rehearsal, love." Gerry informed his wife just as Saoirse entered the kitchen area. "They've been playing the same three songs since 1795. What do they need to rehearse for?" Mary said scoffing while fixing the bags for the trip.
Saoirse slowly seated herself next to Erin, muttering a quick 'morning' as she sat. "Well, practice makes perfect, Aunt Mary. You know, that is why they are so cracker." Orla replied, her words causing the two teen girls across from her to furrow their brows at her.
"I'm sorry? Did you just call the Orange Order 'cracker'?" The blonde questions her cousin with confusion clear in her voice.
"I'm considering joining." Orla dazed off tapping the spoons against her leg in rhythm to the drums.
"I don't think they accept Catholics, Orla,or, you know, acknowledge our right to-" Erin was cut off as Saoirse grabbed the spoons off the curly haired girl, becoming irritated at the added thumping noise. "Aye, Erin's right, Orla. You don't want to join them."
"Give us a hand here, Gerry-this'll not close." Mary ushers her husband to help her close the suitcase and looks up at the rest. "We need to shift ourselves! We're the last Fenians standing."
Placing his tea on the table, Granda Joe turned to his daughter. "Relax, love, we've got a good two or three hours before the rioting starts."
"I'll not settling myself until we're over that border, Da." Mary frantically spoke shaking her head with her hands on her hips.
Gerry, still having difficulty closing over the suitcase, opened it to come face to face with an incredibly large clock. "You're absolutely sure we need the big clock, love?"
"We've been through this, Gerry." Mary sighed looking down at the man. "Definitely don't want to bring the wee clock?" Gerry looked up slightly pleading.
"I can't be doing with the wee clock!"
"What is your problem with the big clock?" Granda Joe harshly asked Gerry."It wouldn't say I have a problem, as such, it's just much heavier and takes up a lot of room." Gerry complained.
"I'm telling you, Mary, that's how it now he's dictating what size of clock you can pack. Next you'll be telling you what to wear, what to say. Before you know it, you'll be faking your own death and assuming a new identity." Granda Joe rambled on, his mind being easily invaded by the plots of the things he watches.
