selkiesaoirse | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

"Those stories that Mum told me," Ben says as he ties Cu's broken leash around Saoirse's waist. She frowns at it, but he continues, "Are you really a . . . selkie?" She looks at him steadily with a small smile on her face. His eyes widen and he pales a bit. "Oh, Geney Mackerel," he says. Saoirse looks down at her shell and kicks her feet a little happily.

They ride the bus for a time, but soon enough, Saoirse grows bored. She begins to idly play her shell. At first, it's not to any tune in particular, but as always, the same one comes out, and the pretty little faerie lights appear in the window of the bus. She's not entirely sure why, or how, but Saoirse knows she can trust these lights. And she knows they're leading her back to her coat.

Without hesitation, she makes her way to the emergency exit door. The red and white bar handle is vibrant, but before she can push it, Ben shoves her back.

"What are you doing? We're on the bus!" He steps back towards the seat and retracts the leash connecting them a little. "I'm getting us home!" he insists.

Saoirse glares up at him. The lights are leading off into a field, now. The bus is going the wrong way!

She shoves her shoulder into the bar. It depresses, and the driver jams his foot onto the brake. The door flies open. Saoirse tumbles out, shell and all. She feels give, as if the leash has broken. The impact with the ground is jarring, but the fall isn't far, and the bus hadn't been going very fast. All the same, it takes her a moment to orient herself. She sits up, hugging her shell close.

There's no bus. There's no pleasant Irish countryside.

There's no Ben.

Cu's leash is still tied around her waist. She can see the leash handle on the ground in front of her. It's half-hidden in the snow.

Snow! Saoirse is suddenly aware that it's cold here — winter time, she thinks, though there's only a little snow on the ground. Her sweater and dress aren't doing much to keep her warm, and her toes are already starting to go numb. She pushes herself to her feet to look around, and stamps in place to try to warm up. She has no idea where she is. This isn't where the bus stopped. This isn't Granny's city. This isn't the lighthouse.

Nervously, she pulls her shell close and plays the tune that thrums inside of her. The saoilse — the faerie lights — dance up around her, and that's reassuring, but they don't go anywhere. They don't attract any scary owls, but they don't lead her to her key, or her coat, like they had before. She lowers the shell and sneezes, then starts walking. She should at least find someone, some grownup, to help her.

It isn't long before her cheeks and nose feel numb, too. The plastic leash box clatters against the ground behind her as she walks, like a noisy tail. To take her mind off of the cold, Saoirse lifts her shell to her lips and plays a wavering tune. The saoilse dance up around her once more, but only hover around her as she walks. It's still reassuring, at least. She looks around as she walks. There's a grownup, just coming out of a building.

The saoilse begin to float over towards him. Saoirse perks. Maybe he has her coat!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The thing about being engaged was that you had to get married after, and a wedding was a big to do. Magnus and Alec didn't have a date set; they hadn't even spoken about the wedding proper except to say that it would happen. But Magnus, impatient as always, wanted to get a jump on things. Flowers seemed a reasonable start. Disappointed with the selection in this particular shop, he had dismissively rejected the florist and stepped out to find somewhere else to judge. That was when he heard it.

He'd know those notes anywhere, now. His entire body tensed. The notes sent the same shiver through his body as they always did, that feel of faerie magic in the air, weaving around him, rushing through him. But her music had never felt invasive, never but him on edge. This was anticipation, the body thrumming you felt on Christmas Eve, not dread.

Turning in the direction of the music, he spotted her instantly. "Saoirse," he mumbled, disbelieving. Then reason and logic kicked in and he noted the plastic leash, the clothing ill-suited for the weather. "Saoirse!" he called louder, jogging over to her. "Little bit, you're going to catch your death out here."

He knows her name, which is unusual, isn't it? Unless he's na daoine sidhe, but he seems awfully tall. She stops playing and stops walking, and sort of stares at him. As the tunes of the shell fade, the soilse fade, too. When he draws near, she backs up uncertainly. She clutches her shell tighter. How does he know her?

An unfamiliar pain shot through his heart at the lack of recognition in her eyes. He hesitated, slowed and paused, realizing he needed to be careful about this. What if he was too familiar with her and she didn't trust him for it?

"Sorry." Keeping a respectful distance, Magnus crouched down to be more on her eye level. "I scared you just now, didn't I? I didn't mean to. I'm Magnus." He paused again, worried. "You are Saoirse, aren't you?"

It would be just like the city to bring a girl who looked exactly like her, with the same shell, with the same muteness (was she mute or just scared?) and have her not be the little girl Magnus knew.

She stares at him, eyebrows a slightly tragic arc, and she reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She nods a moment later. Magnus. That's a funny name, isn't it? She wonders if he's seen Ben, or perhaps even Cu. She scuffs the sidewalk with her Wellies, and winces when her cold foot jostles in her boot. She sneezes, and looks up at him sadly as she tucks her hair back behind her ear again.

Again, he felt a pain in his heart, but this one was completely familiar, the same pang of helplessness that he had felt before every time Saoirse sneezed or coughed or looked another year older rather than a single day. Where was her coat? Why couldn't the damn city at least give her that?

"Hey, you look pretty cold," he pointed out gently. "And I've got some magic in me, if you can believe that." Magnus gave her a little wink; of course Saoirse would believe him. "How about I get you some warmer clothes. Does that sound okay?"

He's magical? She perks visibly. That must be why the soilse went to him, just like they went to her coat, and just like they stayed in the roundabout when she and Ben had been in there. It's reassuring in a way that's a bit surprising for her. But she trusts magic.

She nods when he offers her warmer clothes. Her nose is pink with chill. It's so cold here!

There we go; that look on her face was better than way expression of a few moments before. Always start with the magic, he reminded himself. Kids love that stuff, even magical kids.

All it took was a snap of his fingers and, with a misty swirl of blue magic snaking around her and then disappearing, she had a nice warm coat on her, mittens and knitted hat, proper little boots with thick socks. The coat was white, but the mittens and hat were in her favorite color, because there were some things that Magnus could not resist.

"That's better, isn't it?" He smiled again. "Now, you just got here, didn't you? Magic brought you here. Not my magic, but something else. Something not quite good and not quite bad." Even now, Magnus couldn't verbally admit to the magic of the city being more powerful than his, except around those friends he trusted most.

She beams at the new, warmer clothes, and she hugs her coat to her. It isn't her selkie coat, but it's warm and pretty, and her fingers and toes begin warming in their new adornments quickly. She looks up at him when he continues speaking, listening with as much seriousness as she can muster. She doesn't know how magic can be not quite good and not quite bad; that sounds like it's nothing at all. She tilts her head to the side, plainly not understanding.

After months of communicating with Saoirse without her speaking, Magnus understood that tilt of her head without question.

"It brings you here, and you can't choose when you go back," he explained. "You can't go back to your family, your home, until it decides to send you back. And it likes to play with people sometimes, show them bad things or make them do things they wouldn't do. But at the same time, there are amazing people here that you will like very much, and that you could never meet back home. Sometimes it can give you very nice things and show you things you'd never see yourself. So, bad and nice. Do you see what I mean?"

She thinks about it for a few moments. It sounds like it could be scary, but certainly nothing is scarier than Macha's owls, right? She imagines Ben's stories, the way that he bounds around their room with his cape and his red and blue lens paper glasses, like a super hero. She brightens slowly and nods. It's an adventure! Saoirse likes going on adventures. She likes meeting new people. And eventually, she'll find Ben and Dad, right? Or they'll find her, just like this nice man Magnus did.

"Good," he murmured, half to himself. Now she wasn't scared, and that was important to him. Saoirse was always a brave little girl, and seeing her so ready to take on the world gave him a feeling of the familiar, a warmth that settled in his chest, reassuring.

He hesitated, tongue between his teeth. Rightfully, if he were being a good, responsible adult, Magnus would bring her to the children's home, so that she had a place to stay. But Magnus was far from responsible, sometimes far from good. Memories of how Saoirse had fared the first time in the home made him loath to return her there, and hadn't Baz just mentioned wanting to build an orphanage?

"Are you hungry, little bit?" he asked as he fetched his phone from his pocket. He didn't rightly trust the combination of magic and technology all that much. Rather, he didn't trust predictive text at all. "Do you want to come home with me? You can play with my cats, if you like. I have three now."

He punched out a quick message to Baz.

She nods. There's a Granny-like voice in her head telling her to be careful of strangers, but he has cats, and he's been very nice to her so far, and if he's magic, then maybe her shell will protect her if she needs it to, just like it had when the owls had tried to take her. And she is hungry.

She steps close to him, Cu's leash clattering once more against the sidewalk as she does. Then she reaches up and slides her mittened hand into his.

Just like the first time that Saoirse ever put his hand in his, Magnus felt a warm fondness spread through him. He loved the trust of children, treated it like a sacred thing, and cherished the moments when it was given to him. Unsure where the leash came from, and not liking the looks of it anyway, he waved his hand to make it disappear. It went back to his apartment, just in case Saoirse had some strange attachment to it.

His phone buzzed and Magnus was unsurprised to see that Baz was being obtuse. He punched out another reply -- an order -- and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

He gave her hand a little squeeze and they started on their way, Magnus taking short steps so she didn't have to run too much to keep up. He chatted with her along the way, not needing to fill the silence so much as keep her relaxed and content. And besides, Magnus liked to talk. He told her about his cats and pointed out his favorite shops. He told her about his friend Baz who she would be meeting soon, and how he liked to grumble but that he was a very nice man underneath it all.

Before long, they were at the apartment. And, lo, there was someone waiting for them. "Hello, Baz," he said cheerfully.

There aren't many things Saoirse is back. We're going to mine. can mean. My kneejerk reaction is that Magnus is fucking with me, because Magnus likes to fuck with me. But I don't think he'd use Saoirse to do so, and his second text confirms it.

But Saoirse is back?

In what way? I've heard of it happening, like some sort of urban myth, but I've never experienced it with anyone I know. So I drive over to Magnus' and arrive before he does. I wait.

Before long I'm greeted with the scent of sandalwood and saltwater, and two smiling faces, one of a child I once knew.

"Little Puff?" I say, surprise and confusion in my voice despite the fact that Magnus told me. It's another thing to see it, for it to be real. "You've really returned?"

She falters, and shyly tucks behind Magnus's leg without releasing his hand. Returned? Has she been here before? She tightens her grip on Magnus's fingers — she can only grip three at once, because she's only six — and looks at Magnus's friend with big, uncertain eyes.

Perhaps Magnus could have afforded to be a little more clear in his text message. Perhaps Baz hadn't been all that obtuse in his question. But Magnus would not admit to either of these things, in large part because it didn't do them any good now. Second guessing never helped the situation at hand.

"Not so much returned," Magnus told Baz. He squeezed Saoirse's fingers again, murmured a few words to tell her that it was okay, but gave most of his attention to Baz. "She doesn't have her coat. And she doesn't recall being here."

Saoirse hides from me like I'm a stranger, and all at once I realize. Magnus confirms it. She's as she was the first time she came here. Is that how it works if someone comes back, they don't remember any of it? It makes sense with the running theory that none of us are truly gone, but the idea that we can come back after returning like none of this had ever happened is...upsetting.

It hurts to know she doesn't remember me, that that Saoirse is truly gone forever, but there's no point in saying so. Not to her, at least.

Either way, I keep myself composed for her sake, and smile more politely. "Oh. Well, it's nice to meet you," I say, crouching down to her level. I hold out a hand, though I'm not certain she'll leave the protection of Magnus' legs to shake it. "My name is Baz."

Magnus had told her that he's a nice man, and so far, he hasn't done anything to make her think otherwise. Her initial shyness fades quickly, and she reaches out with her tiny, mitten-clad hand to shake his. Her eyes are still big, but there's a tiny smile on her face, and when she pulls her hand back, she pulls her shell out of her coat to show him. Isn't it pretty?

It's much easier, much more pleasant, to focus on her shell than what Magnus is saying, about her having been here before.

There were no quizzical looks, no confused tilts of her head, so Magnus decided that either Saoirse had accepted what he had just said and moved on or she didn't want to know what he had meant. Either way, smart girl.

"Right, I found her because she was playing pretty music on her shell," Magnus said, following along in the conversation where Saoirse led. "Maybe she can play a little for you, Baz, while I make some food?"

Saoirse takes my hand after all, hers so tiny just like the rest of her. She doesn't say a word - can't - and brings out the shell, and it's the same, it's just like last time. I give her hand a brief squeeze and let go.

"That sounds nice," I say lightly, keeping my tangle of emotions to myself. I'm not unhappy to see her, but I can't figure out what this place would want with her a second time. "You can really play music with that?" I stand so I can walk in with them, resisting the urge to pick Saoirse up.

She brightens, glad that Magnus suggests it and glad that his friend wants to hear. Saoirse happily lifts her shell to her lips. She plays the song na daoine sidhe had played for her, a happy tune that reminds her of better times. She's quite good, despite being only six, and untrained. Music flows through her with the selkie magic. Like the song says, she's meant to sing and save the day.

The saoilse dance up around her and circle the room, glowing and tinkling softly. The more she's played on it, the better she's been getting. She likes it.

Currently, Magnus and Alec's apartment was decorated in what was standard these days: a bit like an extravagent study or library one would find in a castle: rich fabrics and plush couches; stained glass windows and a small balcony with French doors; bookshelves everywhere with heavy bound tomes; a dozen intricate looking artifacts adorning the walls. It wasn't exactly child friendly, but held enough interesting things to keep a curious mind occupied.

Olivia immediately padded over to the group upon their entrance, fluffy white tail swaying side to side as she contemplated which human would be the most likely to give her attention. The kitten, practically all fur at the moment, pawed the air, trying to catch the saoilse and of course failing.

Magnus waited until the song was done to praise her. "That was beautiful, Saoirse. You've very good. I'm impressed."

I listen quietly, every note pulling at my heartstrings despite its happy melody. As cruel as it is to return Saorise to Darrow, I'm glad it was Magnus who found her. I'm glad she's safe for now, even if she doesn't remember us. And at least we know it's her coat she needs, though in another turn of sadism this place has once more thought to bring her without it.

I clap with a smile when the music ends. "Yes, you're a very talented musician. Even the cat liked it, and I've been told cats are very good judges of music," I say, making up something whimsical a child might find amusing.

She giggles her silent giggle, and tucks her shell under her arm so she can reach out and touch the kitten. She's so fluffy, even through the mitten Saoirse can feel it. She pays more attention to the kitten than the room at first. It's much warmer in here than outside, though, and before long, she sets her shell down carefully so she can start pulling off the jacket, mittens, and hat.

Once she's down to her regular clothes, she crouches to touch the kitten again. The saoilse have faded with the lack of music from the shell, and she hopes the kitten doesn't mind that she stopped playing the song.

She finally looks up and around, lifting her shell to hug it close. Everything seems so big and old, but in a pretty way, like old churches and Granny's photo albums. She puts her shell on the couch and climbs up onto it. She looks down at her dirty Wellies and makes a face, then pulls them off and sets them on the floor. There's a smudge of slush or something on the sofa cushion, and she sucks in a breath of air and pushes it off. She sends Baz a shy look and hopes he doesn't tell Magnus that she got his couch dirty with her boots.

When it came to preparing food, as opposed to getting takeout, Magnus went the slow way around. He preferred to actually cook the meals rather than magic them into being or into being ready. Summoning a package of quality fish sticks was one thing, but he had to place them on the baking sheet and put them into the oven, because that was the only way to do it.

The kitten struggled to follow Saoirse, but getting onto the couch was too much of a challenge for him at the moment. He mewed a pitiful little mew, but Magnus scooped him up as he rejoined the group in the living room. After depositing the cat on the couch next to Saoirse, he settled himself in an arm chair just across from her.

"So, bit, here's the thing. I think you need a place to stay, at least for the night, am I right?"

I watch Saoirse's concern over the bit of slush on the couch. I want to show her I understand her magic, so I slip my wand from my jacket and cast Clean as a whistle! to get rid of the slush completely and the mud on her boots. I wink at her like we're sharing a secret and put the wand back in my pocket before Magnus returns.

When he does and brings up somewhere to stay, I immediately wish Simon and I had the orphanage ready. I wouldn't mind her staying with us for a little while, but for the long term I'm just not sure Simon and I are ready to be parents, and I really did not think the Darrow care home watched over her well enough.

Her eyes flash wide, but when he winks, she giggles. It's just in time for Magnus to come back in, and she looks up at him seriously. Yes, she had nowhere to stay. She's not in Ireland, not even Dublin, she thinks, so she's got nowhere to go. She looks up at him and pats the couch, then curls up against the arm and pantomimes sleep. Is she staying here? Can she? Or is she going to stay with his friend Baz?

His lips twitched, then a full grin spread across his face. Neither he nor Baz would be ready to send Saoirse off to the care home, and having her tacitly agree made things all the easier. That she was comfortable enough to suggest that she stay here made something inside him melt.

"You can stay here if you like," Magnus said. "For as long as you like," he added, without thinking. He wanted her to stay forever if only to keep her under watch while Baz and Magnus tried to find her coat, tried to figure out some spell to help her along before then. Asking Alec if they could take in a Darrow-made orphan was the farthest thing from his mind. "Or you can stay with Baz." Again, he volunteered the other man without thinking about it.

Somehow I saw Magnus' invitation coming, just not the part involving me. It had been where my mind wandered, but I hadn't thought his would as well. Especially not without asking first. It's the sort of thing that would be painfully difficult to refuse. I don't know how anyone could say no to Saoirse.

But I can't spring it on Simon. Not with everything he's going through.

I clear my throat a little. "I'll need to talk to Simon, but perhaps we can...trade off? Take turns, so to speak."

She looks between them, still curled up on her side. She opens her mouth and lets out a tiny sneeze. She likes them both. For grownups, they're very nice and she feels like they care about her a lot. She pats the couch and settles in a little more comfortably. Mr. Baz can talk to his Simon about it, and for now she'll stay with Mr. Magnus.

Edited (Feckin autocorrect) 2017-02-24 13:24 (UTC)

Magnus blinked at Baz, belatedly realizing that perhaps he, too, should speak with his fiancee who lived with him and would probably have an Opinion or two about having a child move in with them. But brain synapses were funny things. If you did something enough times, the brain could link it with a positive feeling. Such as with Magnus' brain, which linked terrible ideas with a great deal of fun. This was probably a terrible idea, which meant Magnus had to do it. It was in his biology, basically.

Seeing that Saoirse had no complaints with the arrangement, Magnus nodded and snapped his fingers, summoning her fish sticks from the oven. He put them on a plate on the coffee table with a napkin, then thought to add juice. With a little blue wisp of magic, they cooled to the perfect temperature to eat.

"I'll talk to Alec," he said, then added as though sharing a secret with Saorise, "That's my fiancee. You'll like him."

Of all the different kinds of magic here, I think Magnus has the best. He doesn't need to say anything, he doesn't have a wand or an artefact, he need a potion or spellbook. He seemingly has to do nothing at all but think of what he wants and it happens.

Fucking warlock.

"Oh yes, just don't let Alec's perpetual frowning scare you. Sometimes it's a smile that's just disguising itself," I tease, mostly ruined by the fact that Alec isn't actually here to see it.

Saoirse is delighted by the display of magic. She listens to them both, but she has no idea what a fiancee is, or why Magnus had one. She does understand that this Alec person is cranky, though, and that his smiles look like frowns. She giggles and picks up a fish stick — her favorite! She wields it like a sword with glee for a moment before glancing around for the tartar sauce, like dad always makes for her. She glances up at both of them shyly, and pantomimes dunking her fish stick, eyes hopeful.

"Right, sorry," Magnus murmured half to himself. With another wave of his hand, there were two tiny bowls of ketchup and tartar sauce for Saoirse to use.

"How far from done do you think your children's home is?" Magnus asked, speaking over Saoirse for a moment. He knew she could hear them of course but didn't think this was anything that might upset her, like talking about how she had been here previously.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only