selkiesaoirse | (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!

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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.