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sweeney's lore

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You saw a dark figure looming in the shadows of the trees behind the bar. Of course Will knew nothing about adequate street lights that would make bar hoppers feel much safer as they walked to their car at night.

No matter, you wanted to ignore the looming presence and continue to your car. Was it possible to be hung over before sleeping on alcohol? Cause that was the exact thought running through your mind to distract you from possible homicide.

You heard leaves snap as the presence stepped forward, you just barely crossing paths. Now you could tell he was definitely a man, an unmistakable mohawk sprung from his head. It was dark but not too dark that you couldn't see his face. He was staring at you, bottom lip perched in between his teeth.

You stopped to look at him, something you would have never done and were in fact surprised your mind told you to do so. The height difference was comical, he looked down at you with eyes filled with intensity.

You weren't scared, coming from the family you did taught you exactly how to defend yourself, no matter how tall or muscular the person was. And he was both of those things.There were no words for a few moments, both of you were trying to understand what exactly was going on. There was an electricity between you and the man, an unmistakable charge that willed you to want to be closer. Your brain was practically begging you to step closer, the heat coming from his body grew as he took a step towards you.

His western button down caught your attention, in fact his whole outfit did. A blue jean jacket, dark tweed pants and very scuffed up boots. With his bright ginger hair and beard, he looked like a page out of an old-timey newspaper ad. Definitely advertising a strong alcohol you would want to get your hands on.

"..Buile" he froze at the sound of your voice, low and mild that rang against his ears. You didn't know how you knew his name, why you said it, and definitely didn't understand how you felt somehow that you knew him.

"It is you" when he finally spoke his voice was low and deep, that too sounded familiar. Once he closed the distance between you two you could finally see how fiery red his mane was. A thick beard that matched accompanied his strong jaw. His eyes were a hazel mix that sunk deep into the recesses of your mind. That gaze was familiar. But where?

"H-How do I..what's going on?"

"I thought I'd neva see you again. The last time I did you were runnin' so fast, I just want ya t'know I killed every last one of 'em." You had almost no clue what he was referring too and he had just admitted he was a murderer. Was he drunk? "Although, that was many moons ago...but now here you are again, right in front of me." The tall man smiled, a grin so wide you almost fell back in awe. He was handsome, yes, but that wasn't it. You were pulled to him in a sort of attraction that went deep beyond surface. Your core was on fire under his gaze and you had no idea why your body was betraying you so intensely. You see gorgeous guys all the time, hell, even sleep with some 9s and 10s front time to time. But this man, this man was entirely something else.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Your words were a lot harsher sounding than intended, but the man was in no way affected. He even chuckled at your brashness.

"I can explain it all to you Luna, refresh your memory, but it's fuckin' cold out here, yeah? Do you want to go with me?" Now you were the one that was rigid. How did he know your name? A man you had never met before, never seen before, knew your name and you knew his. It had to be some strange coincidence. Maybe in a drunken stupor you slept with him one night and just completely blacked it out. Maybe. But you didn't 'black out' sex pretty much ever, that wasn't your thing to just not remember it. And after years of cultivation, you were an expert in knowing your alcohol limit. You knew exactly when the next drink would tip you over into unbearableness.

"You know my name" it came out as more of a question which he ignored altogether. His eyes scanned your body and you swore you saw a bright glimmer in his irises when they returned to your face. What the fuck?

"Where shall we go mo ghrá?" He switched to the other side of you, still eyeing you like he was in disbelief. "My place then." You almost wanted to get in you car and just leave, do the rational thing instead of going somewhere with a complete stranger. But your mind wouldn't let you do that. Your rational side was somehow convincing you to go with this unknown man, forcing your feet to follow behind him. The words 'mo ghrá' repeated in your ears. 'My love'.

He continued walking, never looking back as if he just knew you would be following him. He stopped at a tan old truck and opened the passenger door for you. You looked up at him, still trying to decide if this was a good idea. He gave you a slight nod and a warm smile, a comfort you felt you had experienced from him before. How? You got in after all, tucking your feet in as he shut the door with a thud. The truck was definitely older, probably older than you, and that was saying something.

He pulled forcefully on his door, it was reluctant to open but after another forceful pull it did. The car shifted slightly under his weight, obviously used to his tall frame squeezing into it.

"Shit, it's colder in here than outside Buile." You didn't know why you felt so comfortable to say his name, but you did. It slipped from your mouth with ease as if you were with a long time friend, which made you more puzzled about it. His body tensed again at you uttering his name, he looked as if he was trying to quietly keep his composure.

"No one has called me that in a long time, that's why it catches me off guard. Especially to hear a very familiar voice say it, one that i've missed dearly." The look in his eyes is now desperation. you know he feels the same electricity between you two as you do, his body is practically magnetized towards yours. But it's explainable for him, apparently he knows you.

You don't say anything so he forces his gaze to starting the truck. It sputters for a few seconds when he initially turns the key. Another sputtering sound and then it starts up. You feel him sneaking glances at you out of the corner of your eye but you're too busy focusing on exactly which roads he turns down to acknowledge it. Better safe than sorry you guess. Doesn't help much now, he's got a grip on your mind and you can't figure out why. You're too intrigued to run away now.

He pulls onto a side gravel road, gets out to open a gate, and jimmies the truck door closed as best he could. He pulls into a grass lot in front of a small yellow cottage. It's cute, you think, but will someone hear your screams this far into the wilderness. Have to make a brisk run for it if things go left.

He opens your door and places a hand out for you to grab and help you out. You take it and feel an electric jolt run through you veins. You can't tell what exactly the feeling is, but his touch causes your entire body to pulse below him. You know he feels it too by the way his eyes dart to your hand, willing himself to keep composure.

You let go once you step down and immediately the sensation ceases. Your brow furrows as you walk behind him, 'what the fuck was that?' you thought. He leads you in and uses his hand to point you toward his small and quaint living room. There's a small arm rest level table in between two vintage looking recliner chairs. He pours two glasses of whiskey and places them on the table as you sit down in one of the chairs. A lot more comfortable than it looks. He peels his jean jacket off, tossing it on the floor below. In less layers you can see just how large and toned his arms appear under his western button down. Not to mention (but let's mention it anyway) how broad and wide set his chest is. Fuck.

"Let's start from the beginning hmm?" And with saying that he takes his glass, you take yours, and he makes them clink ceremoniously. His face is riddled with anticipation and jovial ness.

He takes a big swig, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans closer to you in his chair, "It all started in 1846."