Eoin was disappointed when Ashling moved away from him during their conversation about the Mórrígan. He was so close to giving in to what he wanted and kissing the woman that tormented his mind. This was all new territory to him. Sure, he had been with women before, but with the distinct knowledge that it wasn't anything serious.
Ashling though? She was special. She was very quickly becoming his whole world and he was terrified that he would fuck it all up somehow. Like forcing his affections on her when she wasn't ready. He was such an idiot!
While in the middle of internally chastising himself, he noticed that Ashling had gone very still and quiet. She was standing very straight, shoulders tense. The only perceivable movement was her rapid breathing like she had just run a marathon.
"Are you alright, love?" Eoin took a tentative step towards her, torn between wanting to make sure she was ok and worried that getting any closer would make her feel uncomfortable.
He was just about to take another step forward when Ashling began to move. She walked towards the statue in the middle of the clearing, though it became very obvious that something was wrong. Her movement was not right, stiff, and almost mechanical, like her limbs had forgotten how to move correctly.
"Ash?" he asked again, no longer hesitant as he made long strides to follow her. Just as he was about to reach out to take hold of her shoulder, she froze her steps and threw her arm out, hand making contact with the leg of the Mórrígan.
A scream left her throat, one of intense pain that made Eoin run the last few steps to her out of fear. He grabbed hold of her free arm and tried to turn her around, but it was as if her hand was glued to the statue. He couldn't budge her, couldn't pull her away.
The scream diminished until it was only a whimper, Eoin's heart clenching at the noise. Leaving his hand on her arm, he moved to stand next to the statue's base so he could see Ashling's face.
Her eyes were open, staring ahead but seeing nothing. The golden light that shined from her eyes meant one thing: magic. His breath left him for a moment at her beauty, the gold of her eyes making her seem more of a goddess to him than the Mórrígan, before the memory of her scream swam back to the forefront of his mind.
He reached his other hand across Ashling's body to grip the wrist of the hand touching the statue. His other arm left hers and instead wrapped around her waist, pulling her body to his securely. His eyes, too, began to glow. His magic worked toward the surface of his skin, pushing against Ashling.
Whatever her magic was doing, she was not doing it consciously and it was causing her pain. He needed to end it. The thoughts of her hurting or injured pushed his magic out of his body, working between her magic and the strong spirit that resided in the statue itself. The ground beneath them rumbled from his efforts; his magic, her's and the statue's battling each other, swirling and striking and crashing against one another like an angry storm. He focused his magic on her hand, prying and prying until he felt the energy binding it there start to give way.
Seeing an opening, he slammed even more power into the gap he had made while physically moving Ashling's body with his own, taking a step away from the Mórrígan. There was some resistance before she finally came free. The rigidness of her posture left, her limbs giving out. Eoin caught her weight with ease, shifting the arm around her waist to grasp around her back. He moved to settle her on the ground, her upper body still pressed into his.
Pulling his magic back as well, he focused on Ashling's face. Her eyes had closed and she was very clearly unconscious. Intense worry spiked through him. He had no idea what had just happened. Whether it had been an attack or her magic acting on its own.
"Ash? Ashling!" He called out, hoping to rouse her. "Come on, open your eyes!" Nothing happened. He brought his hand to her face, pushing her bright fiery hair away from her eyes before cupping her cheek. Shaking her a little, he tried again. "Ashling!"
Suddenly her eyes snapped open, her body lurching forward, gasping as if she had just broken the surface of the water after a long dive. Eoin shifted so she could fully sit up. Ashling leaned her full weight into him, still taking big gulps of air, shaking hands clutching at the arm that was around her font, supporting her so she wouldn't fall forward.
"Ashling?" Eoin asked, worry still clouding his mind though it began to ease now that she had awoken. Her breathing slowed and she seemed to calm slightly. "What just happened?"
Ashling turned to him, not moving away but simply pivoting her torso more fully to face him. She looked a bit shocked, but not fearful which was a good sign, he thought.
"You never mentioned the gods could talk to you," she said, her voice hoarse as she still fought to get her breathing back to normal. It took Eoin a moment to process what she said. What on Earth had just happened?
"What do you mean by "talk to us"? We pray to them, but other than prophecy, I have never heard anything about the Gods talking directly to anybody outside of myth," Eoin answered, trying to keep his tone even and steady to not alert Ashling to just how concerned he was. "What happened, Ash?"
"The Mórrígan spoke to me," Ashling started, hands still clinging to Eoin's arms. "She brought me to this strange place. A large hill with an odd, round stone in the middle. She told me about the darkness, about what is happening to the Druids in Europe."
Eoin was even more confused. Druids in Europe? He hadn't heard anything alarming from across the English Channel. If something had happened, he would have heard.
"Love, I think we should go find Maire and tell her what's happened. Her and the other Elders of our garrán will hopefully know what just happened to you." Moving slowly and gently to stand, he brought Ashling's small body with him, lifting her with ease and placing her back upon her feet. He took a small step back, putting some space between them but not fully letting go, afraid she would disappear to wherever the goddess had taken her once again.
Ashling's hands slid down from his biceps to grip his forearms due to their more pronounced height difference now that they were upright. She didn't want to let him go. He seemed the only steady thing here to hold her in place. Her whole world was upside down, her mind in a million pieces and Eoin was her bastion against the storm that raged inside her.
The fabric of his long sleeve shirt scraped along the palm that had touched the leg of the statue, as it was moved down his arm. Pain lanced through her, causing a wince and for Ash to pull her hand back quickly.
"Ouch," Ash mumbled, pulling her hand into her chest. Eoin, concerned, gently cupped her hand in his and pulled it forward to get a better look. There, burned into the palm of her hand, stark red against her pale skin, was a triquetra; three interlocking ovals with pointed ends. Normally, the three ovals are encompassed by a circle, but Ashling's was a heart shape. The mark of the Mórrígan though changed slightly.
"Yes, we need to get back to Maire," Eoin mumbled, summoning his limited healing magic, and gently laid his palm against hers. A cool feeling gathered between their hands and Ashling's tense body relaxed as the pain was numbed. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, she allowed her head to lean forward against his chest and closed her eyes.
"Eoin, what am I going to do?" She sounded so lost. For a moment, he wished he had never had to drag her into this whole mess. It wasn't her fight, not really. She had no idea any of this even existed a few days ago. She had been safe and content in her previous life in Canada and he hated the fact that he was the one to break that world apart.
"I don't know, love," Eoin sighed, pulling the rest of her body to his in an embrace, setting his chin against the top of her head. "But I will be here to help you every step of the way."