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Manannan mac-Lir


Dun Laoghaire Sunday Market 1pm

The sun was trying its absolute best to peek through the overcast skies that lounged above the Dun Laoghaire Sunday markets. To be fair, it was often cloudy and often raining. In fact, the placard that welcomed visitors to the markets stated ‘Open rain, snow or sun.’ Which just showed that the sun was the last thing that was expected.

Regardless it was a great market, and in Manannán mac Lir's opinion, Ireland was the best place on earth to be. Of course, he had strong ties to Ireland, being a Celtic deity and all, not that anyone passing him by would know. Yes, that’s right, the protector of Ireland walked amongst them in a cable knit sweater. But boy, did he rock that sweater!

Manannán had been coming to this particular market somewhat regularly on Sundays over the past ten years. He loved all the local produce, especially the jams and preserves that his sweet tooth was partial to. Manannán might also have a thing for wind chimes, but only so many of those a house needed. His currently sported about ten, okay it was twelve, but they all had different tones.

Now, Manny sported a couple of different forms when on earth, depending on what he was up to. His current form was glamour, and he looked mid-thirties or thereabouts, sandy blonde hair, about six foot one, muscled but not ridiculously so and the perpetual scruff about his face. But not so much facial hair that the dimples went unseen. Manny absolutely used them to his advantage.

Manannán’s other form was his natural state when in the Otherworld. That form was six foot six, and his blonde hair hung long down his back. He was well-muscled and bearded and looked every inch the warrior god he had been back in days when wielding a sword was done on the regular.

Being in a place like this where humans frequented, his true form could be overwhelming. And so, he wandered about looking human, in his blue jeans, sneakers and the aforementioned sweater. A bag on his arm contained four different types of jams and a couple of bottles of Teeling Whiskey that he hadn’t yet tried.

The smell of pancakes, butter and fruit hit him, and his stomach rumbled. Okay, he needed whatever that delicious smell was. Finding the international food stalls, he found the small pancakes known as poffertjes.

As he was about to step up and order, a redheaded woman stepped up at the same time. She had absolutely pushed in front of him but didn’t realise what she’d done. The guy behind the stall saw this and then had no idea who to serve because at that precise moment, they only had enough pancakes left to fill one order.

Finally realising what had happened the woman turned towards him. When she looked up at him and spoke every thought flew out of his head as he stared at her beautiful face. Manny couldn’t have told you what she said at all, but his heart skipped a beat then restarted with a massive thud. He took a breath, then another, before he could speak, his Irish accent filling the space between them. “No, you go ahead, it’s no problem.”

March 30, 2021 03:03 am
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Stephen Cage 
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