When I came to live at Haven as a child, the Guardians, wonderful people that they were, wanted to throw me a birthday party. Problem was there were no true records of my birth. I only knew it was sometime in late winter. I guess my parents didn't really keep up with days as much as they did with seasons since we did know that I was 10 years old.
I can't remember if I cared very much about having a birthday celebration. After all, it was over 100 years ago. But somewhere along the way someone had to decide on a date, and although people might think Saint was the one to pick my birthday, it was actually Fergus. He decided on March 20th, the Vernal Equinox. I'm not really sure why he chose that date. Maybe because it was easy to remember, often with Fergus there is not a reason. He simply decides and that's it.
So in the next few weeks I will be turn 125. Luckily, I don't feel a day over 110.
Síðar,
Ghost
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