The paperwork for getting Garvan's passport updated took a little time, but not as long as it may have through normal channels. Getting to the Isle itself took a few jumps, going from the Waypoint to a sept in the Midwest to the Sept of the Green in Manhattan before making the long walk across the Atlantic; even so, being able to go clear across the world in the span of an hour was quite a thing in itself.
Garvan would be lying if he said anything other than the trip had been a blur. Certainly it had to have taken more time getting the paperwork in order than in the trip itself, but even the short duration left him feeling more than a little out of sorts. He doubted that there was anything approaching correct enough timing to make sure his own internal clock wouldn't be completely dismayed at the final stop, but he'd bear it all the same.
Still in the midst of crossing, he figured it would have to be night over there. Left in the early morning, crossing to about the other side of the world entirely, and that would make it about night, right? Of course, losing track of time or even an entire day itself was not something unfamiliar, and so Garvan made for closing out the remaining bits of the trip as quick as he dared. The sooner started, the sooner finished, no?
Oddly enough when he arrived at the sept in Cork it was still afternoon, although edging towards evening. It was a smaller gathering place of the Fianna, something of a resting place before heading to the major caern held by the tribe closer to Kerry itself. It was there that Brenna's brothers had last been based out of, so getting there would be the best place to start.
That was... strange? Garvan shook his head slightly at noting the time of day, taking care to not dwell too long on something that wouldn't matter as much if it were not an issue. No, the real issue would be more related to getting to Kerry in either case, and so while he took stock of the small area around him, it couldn't be for long. Not with business to conduct, not least because of the still niggling sensation that this was far closer to what he'd known as a Strider than anything else. Endless travel, alone even; ironic that he should be closer than ever to his people and yet still feel like the nomad.
No time for that, however, and Garvan turned back to getting his bearings, stepping away from the entryway and observing for a few long moments. Perhaps there might even be someone that could somehow recognize him for what he was, but luck seemed to always be a rare friend of his.
Conveniently, there was a young man waiting at the entranceway to the stone building that served as the nexus for the moon bridge he had used to reach the small sept, dressed neatly and giving Garvan a smile. "Welcome. I'm Malcolm; trip went well, yeah?"
"It did, thank you," he replied, nodding politely, fixing his own more utilitarian clothes a little. Opting for speed, Garvan himself wore only light clothing with a thin jacket in case of any rain, the better to stay moving without much impedance.
"I'm Garvan," he continued, relying on the name his mother had insisted so much upon and forgoing the otherwise-confusing family name. Well, maybe not that confusing, but perhaps better to stay with the strengths and avoid any chinks in the armor.
"You'll have to forgive me as I'm rather unversed in such things; is there anything I should be aware of before setting out for Kerry?" Perhaps best to just put everything in the open and let it get sorted out naturally.
"Good to meet ya." Malcolm moved forward to offer a hand. "It's about three hours by car to the city proper, although the sept is past it and farther north. Can give ya a lift out that far; going by foot the rest of the way would prolly be best, give the patrols time to catch wind of ya."
Well, he guessed it wouldn't make sense for them all to only speak in Gaelic here, but the other man's English rang of it in either case. For his own part, Garvan held more of a clear tone, the words spoken precisely and with only a hint of a similar accent; a legacy of his recent fostering. Still, he took the offered hand, returning the shake firmly and the smile with one of his own.
"The same to you," he replied, quieting to listen intently, carefully even, before continuing, "I would appreciate the assistance, if it is no trouble."
For scenes that take place outside of Seattle
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