selkiesaoirse | (no subject)

It doesn't really surprise Greta that Saoirse's keen to visit the beach. The weather's finally good for it (if still a bit cool for a proper paddle), too, so there's no real reason not to. She does make Saoirse wait for the weekend, though. Better to make a proper day of it than try to squeeze in a shorter visit between school and dinner.

That's the sensible reason to hold off, anyway. The less sensible reason is that Greta still feels a little bit sick over the trouble she caused a few weeks ago. Only a handful of people know it was all her doing -- and those same people know it was a horrible accident. But it's hard to shake the feeling that everyone else could know: that strangers on the street might take one look at her and guess the truth, and hate her for it. What right does she have to a beautiful day?

Perhaps none. But Saoirse is blameless, and Greta can stomach an outing for her sake.

She has Sadie on a leash, mostly because she doesn't want the poor dog to end up losing what fur she's managed to keep to more of those horrible elf-knots. Cu's good at sticking close to Saoirse, though (and more likely to dislocate Greta's shoulder if he decides to take off after her), and the beach isn't too crowded, so Greta lets him galumph along after Saoirse, his leash in her pocket in case someone decides to raise a stink about it.

"This is nice, isn't it?" she says to the lass. Convincing her is the next best thing to convincing herself.

Saoirse nods, a bright smile on her face. She nows Greta has been beating herself up over the whole singing thing. Nothing really awful happened, though, as far as Saoirse knows, so she doesn't understand why. She just wants her mum to be happy.

When they find a good spot, Saoirse pulls her tee shirt off and lays it down like a towel. She's got her bag, like always, and she pulls out a bottle of sunscreen for Greta to run onto her shoulders and back. Her bathing suit is a one-piece, with a unicorn on the front, but the straps are thin and the back has a deep scoop, so she doesn't want to get a sunburn.

The fact that Saoirse doesn't know how bad things got is something Greta isn't eager to change. In part -- selfishly -- she just doesn't want the girl to think less of her, but she also doesn't think any seven-year-old would be well served by having those images in her head.

Of course, that makes it rather difficult to explain why she's still unhappy about it all, but that isn't something she wants Saoirse worrying about, either. The sight of her bathing suit at least manages to coax a genuine smile out of her. Saoirse looks adorable in it, though Greta can't help but wonder what Amalthea would think of the depicted unicorn. It doesn't quite convey the impressiveness of the real thing.

She settles down behind Saoirse to apply the offered sunscreen. It's one of many modern innovations that never would have occurred to her, and it seems like a lot of fuss just to prevent the odd sunburn -- but then again, it's been years since she spent a decent chunk of her own day in full sun. Sunburn was a problem farmers had to worry about moreso than bakers; her burns were usually oven-induced. At any rate, better safe than sorry, and it's not as if she wants the lass to fry to a crisp.

"Don't wash it all off straight away," she says, giving Saoirse's shoulders one last little rub and pressing a kiss to her temple before releasing her. "That water hasn't had much time to warm up, yet."

Once properly protected from the sun, and with Greta's warning in kind, Saoirse runs towards the surf to look for shells and play with Cu. She brings a sea-smoothed stick over for Sadie to chew on, so she's not bored, then returns to playing fetch with Cu a bit.

Before long, the dog's thick coat is waterlogged and collecting all sorts of salty sand, seaweeds, and the like. He looks silly, and he's definitely going to need a bath.

But that thought rushes from her mind when Saoirse hears a seal bark at her. She freezes, looking out towards it. It's laying on something, and for a moment, Saoirse thinks she's dreaming.

Greta keeps half an eye on Saoirse as she settles herself in a shady spot and pulls out some knitting to work on. As long as Catarina doesn't experience any truly staggering growth spurts between now and autumn, the jumper Greta's making ought to be a good fit.

She knows Cu's barking. In some ways, it's almost become a substitute for a child's voice or a baby's crying: a sound she can tune into, whose changing pitch might warn her that something's gone wrong. And for the most part, he sounds like he's having a grand time with his young mistress (though part of her knows it's the sort of grand time that will probably require a bath when they get home).

And then she hears a bark that isn't Cu at all.

It sends a little stab of anxiety through her, though she ought to be used to it by now -- the seals are always interested in Saoirse; it's never meant anything beyond what she already knows. Greta looks up, craning her neck a little until she spots the seal a little ways down the beach. Saoirse's staring at it -- again, as usual -- but Greta gets to her feet, anyway, telling herself that there are rules about approaching the seals and she doesn't want to have to explain Saoirse's whole life story to the authorities.

Then she sees what the seal is lying on, and she stiffens, rooted to the spot. No, no. Not now. Not after everything.

Saoirse's feet move, without her permission, at first. She's forgotten all about Cu and Greta and Sadie. She's forgotten all about the shells she's collected. All she can focus on is that flash of white beneath the gray seal laying on it.

Cu barks at her, concern evident in his tone. She doesn't heed him, not like she normally does. Instead, she moves closer to the seal, eyes pinned to it.

The worried timbre of Cu's bark jolts her into motion. She drops her knitting project and scrambles forward, lurching a little as the sand shifts underfoot. Even as she moves, though, she doesn't know what she intends to do. Pull Saoirse away? Is that the story she wants to write?

She reaches Cu's side and touches his head lightly, as if by reassuring him, she can somehow make this all better. She wants to call out to Saoirse, but her own voice feels stuck in her throat -- because who is she to interfere?

Her mother? Now, more than ever, it feels like just a word written on paper, not something that means anything.

Saoirse's feet are moving faster, now. The seal yelps and dives into the water, leaving its white bed uncovered.

She can see the sleeves, sprawled against the damp rocks. She can see he hood.

She drops to her knees, fingers touching soft, white fur dampened by ocean spray. She lifts it to her chest and buries her face in it.

It smells like home. It smells like her. She pulls it on, the tail of the coat billowing outward before settling at her ankles.

Then she lets out a whoop, so loud it hurts her own ears.

She doesn't know what to expect when Saoirse pulls the coat on. Will she turn into a seal straight away? Will she slip into the waves in an instant, not even looking back?

The last thing she expects is for Saoirse to let out a shriek like that, and for a moment, Greta could swear she levitates from the shock of it. "Saoirse!" she says, half-squawk and half-scold, without even thinking.

She spins, and when she looks at Greta, her eyes are streaming tears, but she's beaming hugely. Cu dances in place, unwilling to leave Greta's side, even though Saoirse looks like she needs him.

Then she says, "Mum! Look!" She jumps off the rocks and onto the sand. There, she twirls, showing off the coat that's restored her voice.

Her heart seems to constrict when Saoirse calls her Mum, and Greta has to blink back tears of her own as she steps forward. Whatever Saoirse's intentions, she hasn't left yet, she's still here now, and these moments can't be wasted.

"It's beautiful," she says, and it is. She doesn't really know what she thought Saoirse's coat would look like. More like an actual seal, perhaps: grey and dappled, not such a pure, fluffy white. Sinking to her knees, she beckons hopefully. "Here, can I...?" Take a closer look? Hug her once, before she goes? She doesn't know how this story goes anymore.

She giggles, and it has a ring to it, a real sound. She rushes forward and catches Greta's hands, using them to stop short so Greta can get a good look at her coat. Cu barks and bounces beside them.

It's all Greta can do to not just pick the girl up, throw her over her shoulder, and march her right back home. But she can't; it would be a betrayal (and if she's not Saoirse's birth mother, the least she can do is not be one of those mothers: the wicked kind). Instead, she reaches out to run her fingers over the soft, white fur, then to brush away Saoirse's tears.

"I have to call Thomas," she finds herself saying. Her voice comes out a bit hoarse, and she clears her throat before briskly continuing, "I just... I want him to see you before..." She can't finish the sentence, so she squeezes Saoirse's hands, hoping she'll understand. She doesn't want her to leave without Thomas getting the chance to say goodbye. And she doesn't want to be left standing alone on this bloody beach; she doesn't think she could bear that.

Saoirse leans into Greta's touch, then smiles up at her. "Okay! I'll go swim while you call him." She doesn't seem to realize that Greta knows any other stories of selkies, or what she might be thinking right now. Normally, she's very intuitive, but right now, she's just excited about her coat.

"... No. No, I mean..." Greta ducks her head with a quiet huff, half exasperated, half sob. God, this is awful, and she doesn't want to make it harder than it has to be. But she's never been a good liar, and she can't pretend Saoirse is just going for a swim, as if that's all it will be. The tears are starting to threaten in earnest, now, and she buries her face in her hand for a moment, trying to force them back.

"... Mum? Why're you crying?" She reaches up to try to pry Greta's hand away, to try to see her face. "What's wrong?"

What's wrong? She lets out an incredulous, watery excuse for a laugh, then pulls Saoirse into a tight hug. Just to hold her, she tells herself, not to keep her. Not to hide her own expression.

"I just... I don't want to lose you," she finally says, as if confessing to something shameful.

That confession has Saoirse frowning. "Where am I going?" she asks. Is someone coming to take her? Is that why she's been so sad, after the singing and dancing ended? Because someone was coming to take her? She clutches her in return, nervous, now.

"I don't want to go anywhere!" she insists.

"Wh--" Greta blinks, thrown by the question -- and by the way the girl's grip tightens, as if she's worried someone is going to snatch her away. It's a horrible sort of relief, if only because it gives Greta something to focus on besides her own presumed, incipient misery. She reaches up to stroke her hair automatically, her own tears slowing.

She wants to pull back so she can look at Saoirse properly, but she can't imagine letting her go just yet. She settles back onto her heels, pulling the girl into her lap. "I... I thought you'd just... go to the sea and--and stay there. Like all the stories." A sort of bewildered defensiveness slips into her tone. "That's what always happens, when--when a selkie gets their coat back."

She tilts her head, still confused. Then she breaks into a smile.

"I'm not leaving!" she assures. "I just want to go for a swim! Then I'll come back and sit with you and Thomas!" She giggles, like Greta's being truly silly.

Honestly, if not for the tentative swell of relief rising in her, she might be more than a little bit indignant that Saoirse's laughing at her. It's not as if she's pulled the idea out of nowhere. She's sat there and read Saoirse stories about selkies; they both know how they always ended, which is largely why she doesn't read them very often.

"It's not funny," she insists, ostensibly scolding, even as she gives Saoirse an extra-tight squeeze and kisses her cheek. "For goodness sake. I thought I was going to lose you."

She pulls back, cupping Saoirse's face in her hands. "But you're coming back? You promise?"

She nods, emphatically. "I promise." She stretches up to kiss Greta's cheek, then pulls her white hood up over her hair. "I'll be back before you know it!" she adds.

Part of her still can't believe that it's that simple -- that Saoirse will just go for a dip and come back, like any of the other children having a paddle (except with an astronomically reduced risk of drowning). But she was resolved to let Saoirse go from the beginning. If she says she's coming back, all she can do is take her word for it.

All she wants to do is take her word for it.

"All right," she says, reaching out to tuck a strand of Saoirse's hair back beneath her hood. "Just... take care. And have fun." And come back soon, she wants to add, but she's meant to be trusting her.

"I will," she says. "I promise!" She turns, then, and kisses Cu on the nose, than runs into the surf. She swims out a few meters, and seals bark a welcome at her. Then she disappears beneath the surface.

There's a flash of white-blue light, and when she pops her head up again, she's a smooth, white seal. She barks at Greta, a happy sound, before diving back under for her swim.

Oh, no, she's adorable, even in seal shape. Maybe it should have occurred to her that a cute little girl would also make a cute little seal, but the local animals grow so quickly, and never start out quite that adorable. Greta waves to her before she pops back beneath the surface.

Cu whines softly and looks up at her. "She'll be back," Greta reassures him, giving the top of his head -- the only clean part of him -- a pat. "And then we can take you home for a B-A-T-H." Cu tilts his head with a groan that sounds a little perturbed, and Greta pats her leg as she heads back up to where she's left Sadie. "Come on. It'll only be a little while."

Once she's resettled herself, and Cu has reluctantly stretched out on the sand to help Sadie with her stick, she pulls out her phone to tell Thomas what's happened. She feels a brief twinge of regret that he wasn't here to actually see her put on her coat for the first time, but there's no helping that. Besides, Saoirse might be back from her little swim before Thomas even gets here.

Greta picks up her knitting and settles in to wait.

Thomas arrived as soon as he could after Greta's text. He left Ronan and Blue in charge of the shop; Greta kept insisting that as hard as he worked, he deserved time off, even if it just came in moments rather than entire days. He was beginning to think she had something there.

Though he didn't change before coming over, he did take off his shoes before he got to the sand and he arrived carrying them, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and tucked neatly at his elbows.

He smiled when he saw Greta, but the look shifted to slight concern when he realized he couldn't see Saoirse.

"Where's our dear girl gotten to?"

Greta didn't seem terribly concerned, so he tried to calm down.

She gets to her feet as he nears her little encampment, her smile both thrilled and apologetic. It didn't seem like the sort of thing to tell him over text, but that just means she'll have to (get to?) see his expression when she informs him that their dear girl is currently not a girl at all, and in some unknown oceanic location (though she supposes Darrow wouldn't let her get too far in that direction, either).

Right. Best to just... out with it. "She got her coat back," she says, then immediately lifts a hand in reassurance. "But she's not leaving! I about panicked, thinking she was, but she's just having a swim, and then she'll be back."

She reaches for him, a little tentatively at first, running her hand down his arm until she can take his hand in hers. "I'd rather she have waited for you, but she was so excited. I'm sorry."

"She got her-- her coat?" Thomas didn't seem entirely placated, but he did sit down with Greta rather than darting off to search the coastline for the little girl. "Oh the-- you mean she's out there?"

He gestured at the ocean, a bit in awe. Saoirse had her coat - did that mean she was a little seal now? He squeezed Greta's hand when she apologized.

"It's alright, I'm sure it took all you had to make her wait at all. I'll see her when she comes out again," he said, offering Greta a smile to assure her he wasn't upset. Maybe a bit uncertain, but not upset.

"Yes," Greta confirms with a nod. Her free hand lifts to her face, half-obscuring a broad, giddy grin. "And she's so cute, Thomas, you wouldn't believe it. Not like the seals here. She's white all over, and she's so fluffy." She can't wait for him to see it.

She can't believe, after all the time she spent harboring the fear that Saoirse would leave them forever, that she even gets to think along these lines. Saoirse will be back, and Thomas will see her, and they'll all be able to-- "Oh! And she can talk again. We'll be able to just... talk." It's not a complete novelty, not after New Year's, but it still feels like a gift. With a snort of amusement, she adds, "She about deafened me, actually. It might be just as well you got here after she'd got that out of her system."

She's babbling a little, she knows, channeling all of her relief and excitement into a flood of words. But it helps to have an outlet, finally, and she leans against Thomas, letting her head rest on his shoulder for a few moments.

"... She's so cute," she repeats, unable to help herself.

"She can talk?" he breathed, looking out at the sea again. They'd gotten a little taste of Saoirse with a voice earlier in the year, but since then she'd been as silent as ever, even with her laughter. The notion that she could talk again just-- he wasn't sure what to make of the excitement he felt.

"I can't wait to see her," he confessed. "I've seen baby seals, but I'm sure she takes the cake." He smiled at Greta and wrapped his arm around her as she leaned against him. He felt the faint flutter of excitement he had when he learned he was to be a father, and perhaps it wasn't fair to have that feeling about a little girl that had already found a family, but he did none the less. Saoirse had become rather dear to him.

"She really does," Greta says, sounding completely besotted. She's still awash with relief that Saoirse means to return. For how well-versed she considers herself in fairy tales, she's never been so happy to be wrong.

And with Thomas here, his arm curled around her, it takes a while for that glow to fade. But as the minutes wear on, a thread of that old anxiety starts to weave its way back into her thoughts. Just how long of a swim did she mean to take? She wouldn't linger that long, surely -- not knowing that Thomas was on his way, or how frightened Greta had been for those few awful minutes.

"Maybe she's lost track of time," Greta ventures, her tone light, but her heart pounding. "Maybe it feels different when you're, um... out there." She gestures vaguely at the water, then fists her hands in her lap.

"I imagine it might. And she's only a little girl." He wasn't sure how good Saoirse's notice of time was at this age. "We could walk the shore, see if we can spot her and call her in?" he suggested. He didn't want Greta to worry, but he also didn't want to interrupt Saoirse having her fun.

He wondered if this would be a sort of regular thing now, trips to the beach so Saoirse could be a seal, or if that wasn't how her sort of fairy tale worked. Thomas knew of selkies, but it'd been ages since he'd read a story about one.

He got to his feet carefully and offered his hands to Greta.

Being only a little girl ought to make her attention span shorter, but maybe it's all different when she's in a seal shape. Nor can Greta easily begrudge her a swim she plans to return from in the first place. It's so much better than the alternative. But the alternative is starting to loom large in her thoughts in spite of herself, and she can't manage more than a brief, preoccupied smile when Thomas helps her to her feet.

He's probably right. It's probably fine.

Sadie and Cu both tag along as they head to the water, though Greta manages to catch Sadie's leash before she actually wades in (having to give Cu a bath is more than enough). Cu bounds into the surf, though, barking at the waves. Greta hesitates to just start calling Saoirse's name -- that might alert other bathers, and the next thing you know they'll be forming a human chain and trying to dredge up something that isn't there -- but Cu's barks must carry. Doesn't sound carry better through water, anyway? Saoirse ought to hear him.

But if she does, she doesn't resurface. Greta squints out at the water, her arms tightly folded, as if to ward off a chill. "I don't see her," she says. "Do you?"

Thomas frowned a bit, but he tried not to seem overly concerned just yet. "No, but... well they do stay under a rather long time, don't they? Compared to people?"

Seals had to come up for air eventually, which meant all of them, including Saoirse, would have to pop up again like little corks. Thomas scanned the surface of the water, trying not to get distracted by shadows caused by the waves.

"Where did you last spot her?"

"I suppose," she says distractedly, trying not to jump at every whitecap as she stares across the water. They do stay down for a long time, but that isn't an entirely reassuring thought. It just saddles her with an additional worry that she'll look a complete fool when Saoirse returns: panicking over nothing.

But she can't see a single seal, normal or not, and she winces at Thomas's entirely sensible question. She'd watched Saoirse for a little while, but it had grown harder to spot her as she'd moved out to sea, and it had seemed faithless to just stand at the water's edge and stare (the sort of doubt that made you lose things, in stories). The last time she saw her was probably twenty minutes ago, and now she feels like a terrible mother for not keeping a closer eye.

"I don't know," she says, trying and mostly failing to not sound wretched. "Out... right about there, I think." She gestures to the last spot where she knows she saw her. "But that was ages ago. She could be anywhere."

Thomas tried not to worry too terribly, but he was getting concerned. They should be able to see her - he couldn't imagine Saoirse would go far out to sea, even with other seals. Nor could he imagine that she would just leave Greta.

He looked at her, frowning faintly. "How long should we wait before we properly worry?" he asked, as if either of them were perfectly calm at the moment.

"Oh, until about five minutes ago?" Greta suggests, with a thin, strained attempt at levity. She doesn't really feel like laughing, at the situation or at herself. Nor does she have the slightest idea what to do about it. She doesn't have a rowboat she can hop into; they can't very well search the whole bloody ocean.

She looks up at him, brow furrowed. "She wouldn't have left. She promised, and I believe her." It's not much comfort, but she still clings to it. She can't believe Saoirse's abandoned them on purpose. But that leaves the troubling question of what could be keeping her.

Thomas tried to think of what he could do. The first thought to jump in his mind is to simply swim out there and find her, but not only did that not sound practical, he could get caught in a tide if he went too far out. The search area was just too large. If only they could call to her so that she might hear--

He fumbled for his phone. If Saoirse was a little seal, and if there were others out there, maybe Daine could find her.

"I'm calling Daine," he said to Greta by way of explanation as he lifted his phone to his ear. He didn't want her to think he was just suddenly ignoring the situation. "Daine? It's Thomas, ah-- would it be possible for you to come to the shore? Saoirse's a seal and we've-- we've lost sight of her. She hasn't come back to shore."

As soon as Daine has hung up, she drops her phone on the bed and takes bird shape. She's not overly worried -- she knows firsthand that Saoirse likes to wander, not to mention how distracting being in a shape can be -- but Thomas wouldn't call if he wasn't getting nervous, and she doesn't want to keep him waiting.

She flies to the beach in falcon shape, and soon spots Thomas and Greta standing by the waterline. She hovers by them for a moment, long enough for them to see her and realize she's no ordinary bird. Then she wings out over the water, casting her magic out and listening for Saoirse's unique voice among the chatter.

Saoirse? she calls out experimentally. Can you hear me?

Saoirse gasps and looks up. She's still a seal, a flash of white among brown and gray. All of the selkies near her are a pale gray, near to white but not the snowy brightness that her pelt has. There are plain seals by them, too, enjoying the company of their fellows.

She's not afraid, not exactly. But they're not letting her leave. It makes her feel a little nervous. They're stealing her, making her break her promise to her mum. She's as much mad as she is anything else. But there are too many of them and not enough of her.

She looks up when she hears Daine. She doesn't know how to answer consciously, has never had that practice, but maybe Daine can hear and feel her answer anyway.

She has to fly farther up the coast than she'd like to actually find the seal-girl, floating in the middle of a knot of other selkies. Daine's never actually felt a selkie before, but she can't imagine what else these could be: creatures that look like seals and are bursting with wild magic, but with an edge to them that makes her think of the immortals back home.

She considers dropping down the waves and taking seal shape, herself, but the number of selkies -- and the protective air they're giving off -- keep her where she is. Instead, she narrows her focus to just Saoirse, reining in her magic. The other selkies won't even hear what Daine's saying to her, hopefully.

I see you, she says. I'm up here, see? She gives her wings a little bobble to help catch Saoirse's eye. Thomas and Greta asked me to check on you. Is everything all right? Can you think the words to me? It occurs to her that Saoirse's probably never used mind-speech before, and she adds, Just think the words as clearly as you can.

Think the words to her. She can do that.

I am alright. But they will not let me leave. Her thought-words are very carefully enunciated, so she can be sure that she's doing it right. She looks up at the bird that is Daine, her big selkie eyes looking sad. They say I belong with them.

Daine can't frown in this shape, but her gaze is sharp as she sizes up the other selkies. Considering how the fair folk have been behaving of late, she doesn't think she'll have any luck reasoning with this lot. It would come to a fight, likely as not. There are more than she fancies taking on single-handedly, and she doesn't think it'd be fair or effective to ask the seals to help. And Saoirse might get hurt in the ruction.

Mithros, but this is a mess.

The last thing Daine wants to do is frighten Saoirse, so after thinking hard for a minute, she says, Well, that's silly. It sounds like they're acting up the way the other fair folk are.

Of course, she doesn't want to lie to Saoirse, either. I don't think it would be smart for me to try and fight them by myself, Daine tells her, making sure the others don't overhear. And I don't think it'd be fair to ask the seals to help me. You might need to stay with them for a little while until we can come up with a plan.

I will, she answers. She doesn't like that she can't leave, but she doesn't want Daine, or the real seals, to get hurt. These selkie are mean-spirited, and hate people that aren't like them, even though that's not their fault. Tell Mum and Thomas I am okay, please, she adds.

I'll tell them, Daine promises. And I'll keep visiting you every day. Even if it takes them a while to figure out how to get her out of this, and Daine doesn't have good news for her, she doesn't want Saoirse to think she's been abandoned.

She leaves Saoirse with the promise to come back soon, then wings her way back to where Thomas and Greta are waiting on the beach. As she approaches them, she realizes she can't very well communicate what she's learned in this shape. Crow might work, but this seems like the sort of conversation they ought to have face to face, not face to beak. But she spots Sadie a little farther up the beach, away from the waterline, waiting patiently by a collection of towels and bags and other sundries, including a blanket that ought to be large enough to cover her.

Daine slows as she passes them, almost hovering in place for a beat or two, long enough to give them a pointed look before she continues over the sand and lands on the ground by Greta's things. With a little help from Sadie, she hops beneath the blanket and resumes her human shape. By the time Greta and Thomas have caught up to her, she's standing, the blanket securely wrapped around her.

"She's all right," Daine says first. "Some other selkies have found her, though, and they don't seem keen to give her up. They aren't harming her, but they're not letting her leave, either."

"We have to get her back, they can't have her." He'd had quite enough of anyone trying to keep him from the people he loved, and he'd be damned if a bunch of seals - fae or otherwise - took Saoirse away.

"Daine, we have to get her back. She's ours."

Perhaps he might have been delighted for Saoirse to find some of her own kind, but this was a bridge too far. He was not letting Greta lose her daughter to the fae. He'd read far too many fairy tales as a child to think anything good would come of it.

Greta had hardly been able to breathe as they'd waited for Daine's return, and it's hard not to curse the inexpressiveness of falcon faces when she finally returns. She can't even guess at what Daine's found until they slog back up the beach after her, and find her wrapped in a blanket and looking... vexed, yes, but at least not distraught.

She's all right. There's something to cling to, and Greta briefly presses her face into Thomas's shoulder in silent relief before reemerging to hear the rest of what Daine has to say.

Which, admittedly, is a bit less reassuring.

It had never occurred to Greta that Darrow might have other selkies, and she's rendered speechless from the shock of it for a few moments. Long enough for Thomas to hotly insist that Saoirse is theirs. It gives her a little thrill, in spite of everything -- because he means it, and because how much of a horrible sin can her own possessive feelings be if he shares them -- and takes his arm in unspoken solidarity.

"We'll need a plan, then," Daine says. "They won't give her up without a fight, and they're too many for me to handle by myself. I can't ask the seals for help, either."

"Oh, for--give me a boat and a bloody oar or two and I'll fight them," Greta snaps.

Daine gives her a look she doesn't like one bit, one that clearly says 'I'm too sympathetic to tell you you're being stupid, not that you need to be told,' and her tone is infuriatingly calm as she replies. "There's a lot of them. And if we don't get it right the first time, they might take her farther out -- or she might get hurt by accident."