A Flux of Flame and Ocean

It was a phone call he'd rather not expected.

"What do you mean, I'm needed at home?" he asked. "I've got plans -- I've got a life here now! I can't just-" There was a pause on his part; from the earpiece of the phone came some rather angry -- and vaguely American accented -- Gaelic. "Okay, yes, I can just drop it," he corrected himself. "What with the Oath and all. But this doesn't sound like it's the kind of thing that would normally... I mean," he continued, dropping into the Speech as he did, "I don't see why it's so important for me to drop everything and come home right now if all it's for is to help clean up the overlays some. It can't wait two more days?"

He sighed as Annie Callahan continued to explain the situation. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" he asked. "If I'd know the situation was that serious, I'd not have blinked twice about it. Give me..." In his head, he calculated how long it would take him to throw all of his stuff into his claudicated bags, as well as tell people that he was leaving. "... Give me three hours and I can be at your front door," he said, switching back to English. "Is that spot in your backyard still clear of the overlay? It's more reliable than my jump point at my parents' house."

His parents' house. Not home. Ronan couldn't help but stop and notice that he'd stopped thinking of that place as home. Ireland was, yes, and always would be, but in the way that a parents' house was supposed to be -- where you came from, not where you made your home. Was Fandom that to him, now? Or was it just a step on his way to finding where his home would be?

Annie confirmed that her backyard was still good for jumping, and the two finished up the conversation quickly. "This is going to take some work," he muttered, throwing his bags open onto his bed, and throwing his door open to the hallway. He made a few quick phonecalls to let people know that he was leaving, and then set to work packing.

[Ronan's not gone for good, just for the first summer term! He'll definitely, definitely be back. And no, he won't be a year older this time. Post, like the door, is open, especially for anyone who thinks they'd have gotten a phonecall and want to come say goodbye before Ronan's gone.]

Ronan sat on the beach, a circle inscribed around him that glowed faintly with the flowing characters of the Speech. The glowing pulsed faintly, barely visible in daylight, almost as if the words were sleeping.

He had handwavily called River and asked her to meet him; he hoped that she showed up, but even if she didn't he was certainly going to welcome the brief escape that promised to ensue.


[For River! That they were at the beach, and what they discussed, is fine for broadcast unless otherwise marked, but everything that happens after they leave the beach will be NFB due to distance.]