Celtic Plains

" You should be honoured to have received the gifts of the royals with your humble origins." 

 " The gods have specially chosen you as one of their representatives, you should be grateful ." 

 " It is a great gift normally bestowed to those higher than you in society, this is unheard of."

 Angelica had heard it all before...numerous times across the years from various people across many backgrounds and different walks of life. The nuns were the worst offenders though, both the ones she had known since she was a child and had raised her...and the ones that continuously cycled through the small Scottish monastery that had been her home for the last 19 years. Their almost medieval beliefs along with their speech that sounded like something out of an epic fantasy novel often had her refraining from rolling her eyes and saying something rude or witty often heavily laced with sarcasm. It was the 21st century for goodness sakes! 

The only role the Scottish royalty had was to bring in the tourism when the potent Gaelic energy running throughout the stunning vast lush landscapes failed to satisfy modern generations brought up on technology and cheap mass-produced entertainment. 

 " The talent you have is reserved for the ancient legends, for the old days of royalty...when the crown held true Celtic power and not pomp and circumstance." 

 Angelica, or Angel as the nuns had nicknamed her didn't believe this story today, just like she hadn't believed it any other day...despite hearing it since she was 4 years old. With her rusty crimson shaded hair, almost transparently fair skin tone, and her eyes of the palest silver it was no wonder that the nuns thought she was this ' miracle warrior'. Angel knew it was really just the odd genetic makeup of her parents who hadn't cared enough to stick around. A four-year-old Gaelic speaking girl with vivid red hair and ghostly eyes found on the steps of an old and remote yet still practicing monastery was hardly a backstory to be proud about in her opinion. 

According to the nuns is was quaint and meaningful yet secretly, Angel knew they just needed some form of excitement in their lives...her ' powers' as they claimed were a mix of both nature and nurture.

 " You speak the ancient tongue and have the blood of the ancient leylines that run throughout this land in your veins." 

 Translation: she turned up speaking Gaelic...well as good as Gaelic as a 4-year-old could speak and spent years reading old texts from the monasteries vast library with hardly anyone to talk to, of course, she was going to speak it. As for the leylines, yes she had a deep connection with nature and the land. Yet when you spend most of your days outside amongst the harsh Scottish elements entertaining oneself with only the flora and fauna to talk to...you'd grow a certain affinity with the natural world as well. 

 Her 'supernatural abilities' ie her ' incredible speed, dexterity...enhanced senses,' the list goes on. They were all simply just aging nuns seeing a young woman in a healthy young physique, it was nothing to alert the news about.... or to tell the Scottish royalty that after hundreds of years the gods ' abilities' had finally physically reincarnated.

The arrival of the young man, he must've only been a few years older than her physically yet personality-wise he held the traits of a man who had experienced things far too early...things no one should have to go through, let alone a youth. 

" Angel, we have a visitor...a weary passerby who has requested some shelter...one of the winter gales have sprung up and you know how intense they can get. Come and have tea with him so he does not have to simply put up with the company of a few old nuns."

One of the head nuns laughed as her light footsteps echoed down the hallway, the intensity of the harsh Scottish winds outside the worn stone walls had brought the sleet like rain that drowned out anything brave enough to even attempt to compete with its cacophony.

Placing down the old, oriental style dagger she was sharpening, it's tip dull from cutting the rough roots of the local berry bushes she had been collecting all day for the nun's kitchen she headed across the dimly lit landing and down the creaky stairs. Her worn leather boots hugged her feet comfortingly as she inhaled deeply and stepped into the kitchen.

While it was rare out in their remote location they occasionally did get a stray passerby, however it was normally in the summer months where locals flocked to hike across the 'rolling emerald plains' of the gaelic landscapes. A visitor in winter was practically unheard of, the current weather battering the old stone castle living proof of this.

Icy grey eyes, surprisingly similar to her own met her gaze darkly as he sat at the dining room table, his significant stature dwarfing the rickety olden chair almost comically. While the man had clearly tried to adjust to the modern world, his appearance suited the monasteries days begone rather than the 21st-century era that he was failing to conform to.

An intense spark of surprise and awe fluttered across his silver pupils as his gaze took Angelica in before his stony facade fell back into place. His posture stiffening as Angel cautiously took to the chair across from him, her hand instinctively went down to the hunting knife she kept on her belt...you never knew when you would run into some local game, for eating or in defense. He seemed to have a similar reaction which oddly, despite her skepticism of this guest had a slight feeling of respect blossoming within her towards him.

He was a fellow hunter, a survivor. Someone who accepted life and took it by the horns rather than just let it toss him around like some helpless fish stuck in a net. His head bent forward in a slight, but curt nod towards her as his hand returned to the table. At that moment, the nuns returned carrying supper...well afternoon tea. The hare, stag, and salmon she had hunted in the last week created an almost exotic looking spread...especially with the goja berries she had spent all afternoon cutting her hands on.

Looking down at her hands in respect as the nuns began their meal blessing she couldn't help but notice the man's hands. Like her own, the flesh was dotted with both pale and raised scars...signs of hard labour and the outdoors. As if noticing her stare, the stranger stared at her and despite refraining from looking up she could feel his intense analysis of her...goosebumps flickered across her skin despite her warm hunting outfit and thick woolen coat.

The half an hour that tea took seemed to crawl by as the nuns idly chattered and attempted to not so subtly pry into the old man trapped in a young man's body. While he was polite and respectful towards the sisters he gave nothing away and by the time they had finished eating Angel felt like she knew less about him than she knew before if that was even possible. As the nuns not so subtly dismissed themselves with small smirks in her direction Angel almost sighed in exasperation. She knew very well that they would never leave her with a man alone and that they would be shamelessly eavesdropping around the corner for her 'own safety'.

As soon as they had left the room the man looked at her, the creepy depth of age and wisdom in his physically youthful features had the goosebumps returning in full force.

" The celtic energy that runs through your veins, through the blood of the landscape all around us is urging you to awaken. You need to...Angel, for I alone, cannot handle the battle that is to come, the horizon is approaching and it has taken quite an age to find you. Your parents hid you well, it has protected you from the bringing up I had but..."

He looked out the rain-splattered window at the darkening landscape outside, whatever had happened to him had clearly been the cause of his accelerated maturity and something deep down within her was grateful that she hadn't gone through the trials this man had. 

" It's time to awaken Angel, for time is running out and duty calls...whether you are ready or not."

As he met her suspicious yet silent gaze his eyes glowed eerily like a full moon as swifter than her usually eagle eyes could track he pressed a softly glowing palm to her forehead and unconsciousness claimed her.