selkiesaoirse | (no subject)

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May 26th

It's a beautiful day, and the beach is windy, but not cold. Saoirse's been feeling a strange pull, stronger than usual, and daily, she's been bugging Greta to bring her to the beach to try to sate it.

It's finally paid off, possibly because even Cu and Sadie are being affected by Saoirse's ceaseless, impatient energy. But here they are, and Saoirse is wearing a swim suit under her clothes, and she's running around barefoot in the sun-warmed sand.

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"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."

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