Rhy'Din was very different from their homeland. Full of strange people and creatures, futuristic gadgets and old school mages who used magicks. One thing Rhy'Din had that the town of Wicklow didn't was a decent paying job for Connor and a smaller house payment each month.

Trying to support a family of 7, soon to be 8 was difficult to say the least. Utilities, groceries, clothing and more certainly cost the McLoughlin family a pretty penny.

Morgan stood in the middle of their barren livingroom, forlorn expression on her face and hands idly rubbing her belly. Connor was outside discussing things with the movers; Molly, the nanny, was showing their autistic son, Seamus, around the house; while the rest of the kids argued upstairs over who got what room to sleep in.

Morgan was nervous, to say the least. There were only two more months until the last installment to the McLoughlin family was born and she wasn't even sure this new life was going to work out for them. It had to, though. There weren't any other options. None of the kids were overly ecstatic about this sudden relocation: away from their friends and extended family, but Connor assured them all that they would adjust quickly and make new friends. Morgan did her best to back her husband's words, but there were a few seeds of doubt within her own mind. Most of the time, she remained quiet when asked how she felt about the move.

A faint tug on her skirt drew Morgan away from her thoughts, smiling down at her seven year old son, Seamus and smoothing his hair. The movers were lugging in the larger pieces of furniture and Morgan was in the way.

"Coem ohn, bab. Whot sae we gouh foind soemthin' tah eat, yeah?"

The appearance of tall, pale figure faded in and out of the streetlights, a pack slung over his shoulder and thermos in the other hand. Connor was the only soul out and about on their street as he made the journey home. His merry whistles of the old Irish tune, Red is the Rose, the only sounds in the darkening night. So grateful for Morgan to have laid out the Aran wool knitted sweater for him to wear. In the wee hours of the morn, and still of night the weather could get rather chilly. Only a few yards away now he began to sing, no matter how the mutts of the neighborhood howled in protest to the noise.

"Cohme o' the heels, mah bonneh Iry lass Cohme o' the heels tae yhe dahleen Yhe choose the rose, louve, ahn Ahelle mahke the vohwhe Ahn Ahelle be yhe troo louve foahevah."

He sang in hopes Morgan was standing on the front porch, eagerly awaiting his arrival. Connor knew better, he knew it was too cold a night for her to remain patient in the chill. The light on their doorstep was a welcome sight, though. Right on up the trio of steps he continued to sing.

"Reedde is the rose theat in yohndah gahdehn grohes Fair is the leely of the vahleeh Cleareh is the wahtah theat flohes frohme the Boyne Buh me louve is fahrer than any."

All that stood in his path now was the front door, but he paused when caught sight of his dear wife peering past the curtain. Rosy cheeks dimpled in a undeniable smile while serenading her through the glass.

"'Twas dohne by Killarney's greehne woods theat weh strahed When the moon ahn the stahs they were shineen The moon shone its rahes on 'er lohchs o ebon 'aire Ahn she sworhe she'd be meh louve foahevah."

His forehead was pressed against the thin layer separating the two, the warm breath fogging the window until he finally straightened. His voice growing louder and filling the air as at last the final verse came to light. All in their neighborhood could clearly him now.

"Tis nae foah the pahteen theat mah sisteh pahnes Tis nae foah the greeve o' mah ma 'Tis ahlle foah the lahsse o mah bohnneh Iry lasse Theat mah hearteh ees breekeen foahevah."

But he was heartbroken no more. Home at last and the welcoming sight of Morgan in wait immediately mended his sorrows of a day without her at his side. One last bright smile and he opened the front door. The pack and thermos tossed to the floor as he anticipated Morgan to come waddling into spread arms.

"Och, Aoihme sorrae, louhve." Connor winced visibly, the late hour had completely slipped his mind. In all fairness, he was happy to be home at last. Out of the elements and into their new, inviting home. If it was one thing Connor could confirm this new locale had a certain feel like their homeland. Cold conditions, thick rolling fogs, rain mixed with snow in areas.

The burly Irishman leaned forth and placed a genteel kiss to Morgan's forhead. As any man could tell you, the way to his heart was through his stomach, and right now, Connor's was twisting itself into knots. The scent of tonight's meal hang heavily in the air and taunted him. "Shaemtheen smeels ghoud! Yhe gae rehlaex now, Aoille fehx meh own plaehte. Aoille bae wetyhe shoertlae." Chilly fingertips grazed over silky cheeks of his beloved. He knew Morgan was liked to be in bed by this time. It was endearing how she stayed up to assure he came home safe and sound.

"Louhve yhe, Morgaen.." Final parting words whispered as he slinked backward toward the kitchen. On the stove he saw a large glass dish, still simmering over low heat. Connor leaned over and took in another big whiff. "Mmmm, laemb aen pohtaetoes..." No long able to hold out and torture himself he scooped out a plate full of the stew. Morgan always made enough to feed an army, and the MacLoughlin house could eat like an army. Hell, they were an army with one more to join the ranks. Taking his place at an empty table he set about shoveling the delicious meal into his maw. When he ate, Connor was like an animal, mouth full he ripped away at a roll and stuffed that into his mouth.

Out of the corner of an eye he saw Morgan standing in the doorway, admiring. "Meh comphlemenphs tae phe cheef!" Speaking with his mouth full, it was a wonder how their children still had manners. Connor gave a motion with his fork to usher Morgan to join him. Like any day, he was, in fact, interested to know how his most beloved handled another new day into this unfamiliar town.