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not-from-the-absence-of-violence · 4 years ago

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For we rise and we fall, and we crash on the coastlines (Only our love will last 'til the end); Chapter 1

thank you to @drowninginstarlights for editing! Heads up for Travis’ and Gable’s terrible dad’s and mom death!

the journey of a selkie, a cursed fisher, a lighthousekeeper, her aprentice and a very confused mortal as their lives intertwine and the magic around them grows.

or a selkie au with general folklore themes!

In the end, Uriel doesn’t even remember what happened. All they have are pieces of their memories, flashes of knowledge. They remember being afraid of the sea, ever since they were young. They grew up in a big coastal city, where the sea was as much your enemy as your only source of income. They remember their father, a deeply unpleasant man. They remember anger. They remember a fire, and a boat sinking, and they don’t think they’ll ever be sure what actually caused it, but that doesn’t matter. There was no doubt in their father’s mind that it was caused by them.

They remember, before that, being in school and being taught not to curse people, not even as a joke, and certainly not on the sea. Magic is finicky business. It doesn’t take much for things to get out of hand.

So here’s the thing. They remember their father spitting his last words at them, but they can never remember the exact phrasing. Must have been something like “may you dwell upon the sea forever,” or “may you never stray far from the sea.” It must have been, because they remember thinking Odd words for a dying man .

There is power in the last words of a dying man, they did not think.

After that, they couldn’t drown. They remember not being able to drown. They don’t remember the months after, the ones they must have spent on some shore somewhere, slowly realising something in their father’s wording must have made it so they couldn’t die. So they couldn’t ever leave.

They stared out to the vast expanse of the ocean, now both their prison and only companion.

William’s father hated magic. He was a wealthy man whose money made money, and he’d never seen any point in such frilly business as magic.

William’s mother, however, had loved magic. Not only that, she’d respected it, and believed that it was important to teach it, as much as any of the other fundamental truths about the universe. There were even whispers that her own mother had come from the sea itself.

Like anything his father hated and his mother loved, William adored magic. He’d stand and stare with great intent whenever his mother had shown him even the most basic of protection charms. But then she’d fallen ill, and then suddenly she was gone. Really gone, gone as in there was no trace of her left in the house, not even her body. It hadn’t taken long for Father to get rid of all her possessions too.

“She’s gone back to the sea,” William would tell people. They’d look at him uncomfortably, clearly thinking this was just a child struggling to process grief, but he always knew better. The only thing he always wondered is why she hadn’t taken him with her.

Years later, his father was on a trip and William was alone. He had grown up attempting to forget about his mother, about everything, but he couldn’t. He’d grown up to enjoy being left alone in his vast house where he never felt at home, spending the downtime between his father’s presence nursing his wounds.

He stared out of the window of the penthouse, dreading his father’s return, hoping with every inch of him that his father’s ship wouldn’t make it to port.

Eventually, he couldn’t stand there any longer, so he turned inwards. There wasn’t much left of his mother’s teachings in the house, his own memories turned fuzzy with time, but he had managed to snatch a single grimoire from the library. Bargains were easy, he imagined, and especially so for him. He too, in some way, belonged to the sea.

So in the middle of a dark, cold night, while the full moon hung heavy in the sky, he went to plead to the waters.

“I am not, I must admit, entirely sure what this whole deal is,” he said, the moonlight shining off the sand around him, “But you took my mother from me.”

He looked at the lapping edges of the water. The sea remained just the sea. The waves came and went.

“I get that you won’t just drown my father for me, and I don’t particularly have much to offer but-” he shuddered a bit, knowing what he was about to do was cruel and very dangerous, “You can take me, William.”

As he spoke his name, the wind picked up suddenly. It smelt of salt and distant rainfall.

“You can take me like you took my mother,” he continued, “And in exchange, I want you to make sure his ship doesn’t get here.”

The sea seemed to agitate, the waves picking up, dark even in the moonlight.

“Did you hear me?” he yelled, raising his voice over the rushing wind, “You just need to drown-”

As he spoke his father’s true name, the world went black.

He hadn’t expected to wake up, after that. It seemed fair enough, a life for a life. Maybe he would get to be a cool water spirit, scaring tourists. Or maybe a fish, with no memories at all. He did not expect to wake up and find himself a seal.

He knew about selkies, sure, but waking up and being a seal was still a shock. He stared at this new body, his new completely different body, attempting to rationalize what he knew was true - that it was him.

The other thing he did not expect was to wake up looking onto the ocean, and seeing a storm raging. There was a ship, tossing up and down with the waves, a very familiar ship. It was so close to port, but he knew that it couldn’t make it. It was sinking. His father’s ship was sinking.

He knew it was the sea showing him their deal was signed. He hadn’t known, not truly, the enormity of his choice until he stared at it, burning in front of him. He didn’t know how to feel as he stared into the sinking ship.

How many people had he just killed? What was he supposed to do?

He stayed there for a long time, looking on until the ship fully disappeared under the waves. Eventually, when there was nothing but dark wreckage on the surface, he dove down into the water. Time to learn how to be a seal.

At least now he didn’t have to be human anymore. At least then he could swim far away, see where the ocean currents take him.

It’s not like there was anyone at home missing him anyway.

Eventually, Uriel got their hands on two things: a small living, and a fishing boat. The boat was just a little too small for them, but it was cozy. She was old enough that her boards creaked in the wind, ropes faded and fraying, and the paint was so worn that her original name was entirely illegible.

Uriel couldn’t die, and they couldn’t leave the waters for too long,or they got antsy. They’d never gone away for long enough to test the ocean's patience, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the consequences. So living on the water was their only option, and as they still enjoyed food and food cost money, fishing it was.

It was a lonely existence, but they discover you can get used to even the loneliest things. They had eternity in front of them to learn how to do their job, and do it well.

They settled in a small town by the name of Safe Harbour. Uriel knew painfully little of magic to understand the how or why, but the town was protected somehow and the magic was strong. Everyone was perfectly content to buy Uriel’s fish, and never talk to them unless they spoke first.

Routine took over and life was almost pleasant. Uriel wasn’t exactly happy, but they imagined this is as happy as people like them got to be, so they pressed on. There was always more fish to be caught.

William met Uriel the only good way of meeting people, which is while robbing them. By now, he was perfectly capable of hunting for his own food, but it was such a chore, and a boring one at that. Other seals could tell he was different, that the sea owned him in a different way, and anway, he couldn’t actually talk to them. He didn’t have to be a seal, all the time. But it wasn’t like he could really talk to the humans either, and the vulnerability of being human once again always set him on edge. So he stayed a seal, and passed back and forth through towns, being a general nuisance.

The only consistent thing about his life these days was stealing, and that was practically second nature. So he didn’t think anything of it when he swam up to a small fishing vessel to get his lunch for the day.

He managed to climb up on the deck, and was about to flop back into the sea, triumphant with a fish in his mouth, when he heard a loud voice.

“Hey!” they shouted.

He froze, turning to look at the irate fisher. He wasn’t the type to be afraid, not anymore, but this person was incredibly tall with long, flowing hair that was almost stark white tied haphazardly back. They had the look of someone who had been on sea for years, but they also didn’t look older than maybe their late twenties. They were also holding a harpoon, pointed menacingly at him.

He wasn’t the type to be afraid, but he was, perhaps, a little nervous.

“I swear those damn seals get smarter every time,” they muttered.

He dropped the fish out of his mouth and sighed. “I have always been this smart, I'll have you know.”

This made them pause, looking at him baffled for a second before they let out a cry and charged at him with the harpoon.

“Whoa, okay no need to be rude,” he said, attempting to quickly move out of the way. But he was, in fact, a seal, and seals aren’t made for quick motions on land, to his dismay.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. He transformed into a man.

The stranger stopped again, the harpoon dangerously close to his body.

“Who are you? And what are you doing on my boat?” they say.

Travis couldn’t help but grin as he held up his hand, with his fish clutched in it. “I feel like it’s rather obvious.”

Uriel didn’t know how to feel. There was a man on their boat. That’s an undeniable fact. First there had been a seal, and now there was a very annoying silver haired stranger, wearing a ridiculous coat and actively stealing their fish with his bare hands.

They could deal with seals. They could deal with other sea creatures. They weren’t in any way prepared to deal with this.

“Asking for names, just like that?” he said, “How rude of you.”

They could feel more annoyance bubbling up inside them. “I wasn't asking for your name!”

The stranger smirked at them again, clearly enjoying getting them riled up. They should have harpooned him to death then and there. They’ll never know why they didn’t.

“Well, you may call me Travis Matagot anyway,” he said magnanimously, dropping the fish and extending a hand.

They stared at it incredulously, before deciding that their life was already so weird, this might as well happen. They shook it.

“You can call me, uh…” they said. It had been so long since they had to give out names like this. “Gable,” they settled on eventually.

“Like the roof thing,” he said, deadpan.

Gable felt their cheeks heating up. “Shut up!” they said, still holding a lowered harpoon in their other hand, “You were stealing from me, what makes you think-”

“I was hungry,” he said, shrugging. He seemed harmless, if very annoying, so they cautiously put the harpoon down.

“Can’t you fish? You are a seal part of the time, apparently.”

Travis visibly relaxed a little once they’re no longer armed. “Now, why would I, when I can have others do it for me?”

“You could have just asked me,” they said.

Now it was Travis’ turn to be taken aback. He stared at them. “What?” he said.

“I have a lot of fish soup,” Gable said, knowing what they were saying is surreal but being certain that by now they were far too late to stop this trainwreck of a conversation.

“Like in general?” he seemed almost amused.

“I always make too much,” they admit.

That's how Travis ended up in their painfully crowded combined kitchen and living room, his coat draped over the back of the chair he was sitting on, staring at a hot bowl of fish soup.

He almost wondered if he ought to accept food at all, but although he didn’t know what to make of Gable yet, they certainly didn’t seem the type to trap him eternally by feeding him.

Gable stared at him, almost self consciously. He almost wanted to pretend he didn’t like it, just to see how they’d react, but regrettably he was hungrier than he thought, and the soup was surprisingly good.

“You liked it,” they said, grinning.

“It was fine,” he said, stopping himself just short of asking for seconds.

“I have spent a lot of time perfecting that soup, Travis.”

He laughed. Time had been something of a laughable concept for a while now. “Well, can’t have been that long. How old are you, twenty five?”

That made his companion pause. They looked down and, honest to god, started counting on their fingers. “Probably forty by now,” they said, looking at him sheepishly. “No clue what that is in seal-man years, or whatever.”

He stared at them, somewhat intrigued at last. But not enough to pry, certainly. “First of all, you must have heard of selkies before,” he said. They gave him a blank stare that meant they honestly probably hadn’t. “And I don’t know either, we don’t age, exactly.”

Gable shrugged. “Sure, did you want more soup?”

“Well if you insist,” he said, passing his bowl to them.

They fell into this new routine together easily. Travis would come and try and steal things or otherwise be an annoyance. Gable would threaten him with increasingly odd weapons or just bodily throw him off the side.

And sometimes Travis stayed, and ate Gable’s repertoire of fish based dishes, or mucked about in the small space of the boat. They both occasionally went to town, although mostly separately, as Gable had the reputation of a gentle constant and Travis was rather more of a trickster cryptid.

They never talked about the pasts that plagued them or the curses on their heads, and they were both entirely too stubborn to admit this is the happiest they had been in a very, very long time.

There wasn’t a single moment that they realised they had become friends, and certainly not one they acknowledged. There was only a night, and a tipsy Travis falling asleep on the couch, his silver gray coat left behind, still slung over the chair he usually ate at. There was only a morning Gable spent staring at it wistfully, telling themselves they shouldn’t read into it.

There was him waking up, not for a second doubting his coat would still be there, safe and untouched.

And so in the fragile silence of their friendship, time pressed on.

#skyjacks #campaign podcast #campaign skyjacks #travis matagot #gable skyjacks #trable #selkie au

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deniigi · 5 years ago

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@puffins-studio is my Selkie Verse enabler.

We were chatting about where Mike would fit in the Selkie Verse and then this AU of an AU happened lol

Title: twin hearts twin coats

Summary: Mike’s an unruly little seal who wants nothing more than to give Jack high blood pressure and he is on a crusade not to make a single friend in Ireland. Unless they’re Matty’s friends. In which case, he needs to steal them.

Context: Matt and Mike are born as rare twin seal pups. This bit assumes that Mike was there for all of Whispering Seas but then fades out of view for a bit as he does his own thing until Matt gets his coat back.

-------

For as long as the two been walking, Jack had been missing a twin.

Usually, it was Mike.

Usually, Mike was trying to sink his sharp little teeth into something he knew Dad did not want him too.

Usually, whatever he was trying to swallow whole would result in a call to poison control and Jack would be on the line for half an hour, reading through ingredients with a patient but stern woman while Mike beamed up at him, proud of his latest accomplishments.

After Matt’s year of hell with foster care, however, Mike had been traumatized. And had taken to keeping Matt within sight at all times.

You would have thought that that would have prevented Mike from being the missing twin these days.

But no.

No, now Jack wasn’t missing one twin.

He was missing two.

Constantly.

Both of his children were un-findable at practically all times.

Grace did not have these problem with the boys. Grace simply made a sound in her throat that Mike called back to immediately, regardless of where he was.

Jack did not have this power.

Over Mike, anyways. Jack had more power over Matty because Matty had a deep-ingrained instinct to only want Daddy when he was upset. But that shit didn’t exactly have range, now did it?

Grace told him he should simply learn how to make the throat-noise, which was easy for her to say: as if Jack could make seal noises.

Jack could barely speak a form of English that folks around here understood. He wasn’t makin’ any damn seal noises. He’d just figure out how to find his kids, thanks.

He was good at it, anyways.

His boys were eight.

They were on the way to being geniuses and criminal masterminds, but they were not there yet, so Jack had a good 76% chance of finding them in the first place he looked.

The bathtub.

He always looked in the bathtub. And, like he said, 76% of the time, there they were. Both of them. Looking guilty as hell—big liquid seal eyes or not.

Matty usually got quiet and scared of punishment around then and would make sad tiny seal noises at Jack and let himself be hauled out of the water and rubbed down with a towel.

Matty was the good twin.

The extremely traumatized twin. Jack didn’t like to think too much about how compliant he became in the face of a stern tone. It was enough that he was home again and that he was healing. Slowly. Very shyly.

It was enough. Matty was allowed to be a little fragile.

Now Michael had no shame and, true to character over the last eight years, refused to feel anything about his disobedience but ‘caught.’

Jack loved Mikey, the little shit, with his whole heart, but that big smile and those baby blues did not work on him anymore.

Up you go, monster-child. And into towel-hell—yeah, yeah, whine all you want. Look how nicely your brother did it.

As soon as towel-hell was over, Mike went tearing out of the bathroom, turning back only to hiss at Jack and then run into the door. Jack watched him vanish out of sight and then sighed. Matty pawed at his side, making those little throat-sounds.

“You’re okay, baby,” Jack said. “No one’s in trouble.”

Matt clung to him and hid his face in Jack’s belly.

Really, he was the one who should have been trouble. He was the one who Jack should have been chasing after to grab the hand of—to be keeping a constant vigilance over to prevent him from falling off cliffs and getting too far out into the surf.

But no.

That would be Mike.

That would always be Mike.

A pot banged and clattered in the kitchen.

Matt covered his ears and made even more urgent sad chirps.

Jack sighed harder.

“Come on, let’s go make lunch before your brother destroys the whole lighthouse,” he said.

----

Matty had Foggy and thank fuck he had Foggy because that gave Jack time to go pry Michael out of whatever deathtrap he threw himself into after school.

Jack didn’t understand what this kid wanted from all the dark places he crawled into.

Was it adventure?

Was it the bugs?

Was he trying to fish?

Mike was more seal-like than Matt. Grace noted this with approval. He jumped into the water and swam deep and ate fish whole and let Mags groom him with minimal fuss while Matt wailed and whined like all those things were a death sentence.

He was simply more human, Grace said. The seal behavior didn’t come as naturally to him, so he was resistant.

Jack thought it was more like Matty had enough sense in him to not want to be suffocated by pelts and people prodding and prodding and dragging his fuzzy little coat this way and that.

Matty was a sensible child.

Foggy was slightly less sensible, but he had the right spirit. He was a good friend for Matty.

Mikey refused to make friends.

“They’re boring and human,” he told Jack. “I want a friend with more style.”

Mikey was a New Yorker through and fuckin’ through and he talked like a fuckin’ Newsie no matter how hard Jack tried to get him to imitate his mama’s cadence.

That accent would serve him no decent purpose when he was older, whereas something more Irish would at least make him come off as friendly. Jack knew—boy, Jack knew.

“Why don’t you try making friends with Foggy, too?” Jack offered, once the Trouble Twin had been dumped in the boat. Mike popped up and immediately tried to jump ship. Jack pushed the boat further away from the dock with his foot and got a face of pure betrayal.

“I don’t want a friend like him,” Mike snapped. “He’s gooey. I ain’t got time for some fruit snack.”

For fuck’s sake, child.

“Just because Foggy doesn’t wanna steal footballs with you, doesn’t mean he’s not a good friend,” Jack said. “He don’t like the church, Mikey. It’s not you, it’s the church, son. I told you this a thousand times.”

“If he’s scared of the church, he’s gonna be scared of shenanigans, Dad,” Mike said. “I live for shenanigans. No, we just ain’t compatible, Father.”

For.

Fuck’s.

Sake.

Jack wasn’t letting this one watch any more tv. No more Guys & Dolls. It was bad for everyone.

“Michael,” Jack said.

“Jonathan,” Mike shot back, haughty as hell with his arms crossed and back straight as a board.

“Son, you need to make friends,” Jack said.

“I got loads of friends at home,” Mike said. “And we’ll be home in no time. I don’t need any more ‘til then.”

Mike hated Ireland.

Jack could not understand this.

There were rocks to climb and there was sand to dig in, there were clams to bang against each other, bricks to throw, a local witch to antagonize—this was Mikey paradise. Or it should have been.

But no.

Mike had learned the word ‘cosmopolitan’ and, even though he thought it meant ‘good enough to be in a magazine,’ he’d declared Ireland not that and had set out on a crusade against being happy with it.

Grace said he was too much of a city boy was all. She said that he’d realize after some time that he was lonely and he’d do what he’d always do, which was charm half the girls at his school and become a popular kid within days.

It had been months now, though, and Mikey was still refusing to budge.

It was exhausting.

“Boy, you’re givin’ me heartburn,” Jack told him.

“Well, you’re givin’ me Lupus,” Mike said.

God.

No more House either.

---

Matty came home around four thirty, which Jack could tell made Mike green with jealousy. Mike wanted to stay out like him, but he didn’t want to be associated with Foggy or his sister.

They weren’t cool enough, apparently. Or tough enough.

Jack didn’t know what that meant. Foggy had helped them relocate Mike’s brother. That was plenty bad-ass to Jack, but what the fuck did he know about kids?

Clearly nothing, since Mike had outsmarted him again and somehow managed to watch a whole three Emergency Vets reruns while he wasn’t looking.

This child wanted to give himself nightmares.

“What did you and Foggy do, hm?” Mike nagged as Matt struggled with his shoelaces. Matt sat down to go at them better and Mike flopped down next to him.

“Hm?” he pressed.

“Made homes for ants,” Matt said. “They live in hills. So we made some for them. Put leaves on top to make sure they stay dry ‘nd stuff, you know?”

No. Mike did not know.

“Ants bite you,” Mike said.

“Only if you’re mean,” Matt said.

“No, they got grains of sand for brains,” Mike said. “They’ll bite you.”

“Well, they got a home now, bitey or no,” Matt said.

“Hey, let’s make a cave—”

“I want a snack.”

“Cave then snack.”

Matt tried to work through that order of events and Jack sighed before he agreed.

“Boys,” he said. “Close the front door. It’s gonna storm. No caves for now.”

Mike turned back to him mutinously.

---

After an hour of shooing the babes away from windows and then telling them that it was time to settle down and do indoor activities or listen to a book on tape, the house had gotten quiet.

That was trouble.

Jack put a lid on the pot on the stove and began the Hunt.

The kids were not in the tub. They were in their room.

They’d made a blanket fort.

It wasn’t a good one—they didn’t have that many blankets, but they had some pillows and Mike had a flashlight. They’d cuddled up in the middle of the room with a pile of pillows from the couch and the spare duvet and were nestled up against each other in their coats.

Mike hissed when Jack parted the sheet curtain they’d gerry-rigged around the perimeter of the nest. Matty turned his way and made a happy throat-sound.

“You two getting into trouble?” Jack asked, folding himself into a pretzel to join them on the duvet. Matt immediately wriggled up to climb into his lap, which Mike scowled at.

Mike was of the opinion that this was ‘baby’ behavior. He was highly concerned that his sibling was still exhibiting it, as if Mike didn’t immediately bury himself into Grace’s side when she came up to take the two of them out for a swim.

Jack pulled Matt into his arms more comfortably and reached over to snag his coat to drop over him.

“Are we telling ghost stories?” he asked the boys.

Matt said yes. Mike told him they weren’t ‘doin’ nothin’’ which meant ‘yes, I am trying to give my brother dreams about banshees again and your presence is destroying all of my hopes and life goals.’

“I have a ghost story,” Jack told them.

“Lana’s not dead, Dad,” Mike said. “You can’t tell ghost stories about ladies who aren’t dead.”

“You ain’t gotta be dead to haunt stuff, son,” Jack told him. “Lana will haunt the blue apartment long after we’re all gone.”

“Nuh-uh,” Mike said. “Me and Matty are gonna live forever. Selkies live for hundreds of years.”

Oh really, now?

“Come here, oh ancient one, then,” Jack said, holding out a hand. “Come indulge a poor, aging human.”

Mike huffed but allowed himself and his coat to be dragged over to join Matty in Jack’s lap.

“A long, long time ago,” Jack told them, “There was a guy trying to raise two squirmy little kids.”

Mike rolled his eyes by rolling his whole head into Matt’s so that he’d giggle.

“Was he a boxer, Dad?” Mike asked.

No, oldest child.

He was a lighthouseman.

Mike sighed harder than ever.

Damn, everyone’s a critic, huh?

“One day, the lighthouseman’s two squirmy kids went out to play on the beach in a storm,” Jack said. “They transformed into seals. But the sea was strong and the tide rose high and it swept them away from shore. They went all the way out to sea, far from their home. And they were lost and scared. But soon they decided that being scared wasn’t any help anymore, and they picked a direction to swim for shore. They went from island to island, asking the people there if they’d seen the lighthouseman because the kids were worried you know? Because their old man was just human, unlike them, and the sea back home had been so strong and the tide so high that it might have crashed against the lighthouse and taken the lighthouseman away. But no one had even heard of a such a guy.”

Matt dug fingers into his sleeve and made a soft distressed sound.

“One day,” Jack said, kissing the top of his head. “The kids came across a load of swans in the middle of the ocean. So they asked the swans, ‘have you seen our dad? He’s kinda tall with a busted up nose.’ And they said, ‘no, we lost our dad, too. Maybe we can help each other find them?’”

“Did they?” Mike asked reluctantly.

“Of course they did,” Jack said. “The swans were secretly the children of Lir. They knew what it was like to be separated from their father, but, unlike those kids, they knew their father wouldn’t recognize them. So they flew up and the kids swam after them all the way back to Ireland, so that they wouldn’t end up like the Children of Lir, waiting hundreds of years for their dad to bring them home.”

Matt did not like this story.

Matt had had plenty of bird people in his life. He wanted no more. He wrapped himself around Jack’s neck and made grumpy sounds to indicate that he was done with this whole story business.

Mike’s little brow stayed furrowed.

“You’d recognize us right away,” he said. “We wouldn’t be like the Children of Lir, Dad, first off, ‘cause we wouldn’t ever leave you by yourself. Second off, because Mum’s carryin’ your soul for forever, so even when you’re old and dead, we’ll still have ya. And third off, ‘cause you’re a hero. We could find you just by sniffin’.”

Matt made louder grumpy noises to remind everyone that he didn’t like this conversation.

Jack hummed and rubbed Matt’s back and used the other hand to smooth down Mike’s hair.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “But that don’t mean that I don’t miss you guys while you’re paddlin’ around in the sea without me.”

“TUNA,” Matt snapped.

Jack was startled.

“Tuna?” he asked.

“I’m hungry,” Matt said. “Let’s eat tuna.”

“You hate tuna,” Mike reminded him. “I’m the one who likes tuna.”

“Well I hate tuna less than I hate stories,” Matt snapped. “So I wanna eat tuna.”

Ah.

Bless him.

Okay, tuna it was.

---

Grace told Jack to stop telling the kids that he was going to die. She said it was making them cry out in the sea. She reminded him that she didn’t take the damn kids to the sea to cry. She took them to fish. And they were still both shit at fishing.

Jack apologized.

But he didn’t feel too bad.

The fae in the woods told him he didn’t have too much longer in human form. He didn’t want the boys to be surprised.

Lord knew that they’d already been surprised enough over the last few years.

---

Mike decided that he wanted to learn how to sail and, in lieu of him finding children his age to play with, Jack set to teaching him how to row. It was a good start. Grace approved. She even went out and found a little tub with a set of oars for Mike to play around in.

He immediately nearly drowned by taking it out into the bay.

Jack set him on the other side of the sandbar by the lighthouse and he did better. He was closer to where Matt and Foggy liked to play too, so if something went wrong again, the other kids would start shouting.

After a whole afternoon of no shouting, Jack went out to collect the munchkins and found Foggy out in the bay chatting with Mike with hands on the edge of the tub.

That was surprising.

What was not was the fact that Matt and Candace were digging a fuckin’ hole in the sand. Again.

Foggy must have gotten bored of them.

Jack watched as Mike took ahold of his wrist and heaved hard and brought Fogs over the end of the little tub. They both tumbled down into it.

Then Foggy popped up and leapt right back out into the water. Mike nearly followed him, shaking his oar after him.

Jack couldn’t help but snicker. He left them to it for another ten minutes before calling the boys in.

---

It was hilarious.

It was adorable.

It was the cutest fucking thing Jack had ever heard, indignant as Matty was, standing on his toes, all puffed up and agitated.

“Mikey’s got a crush on Foggy and he won’t clear off,” he’d told Jack.

He didn’t appreciate Jack’s giggling.

“Foggy’s my friend,” Matt told him. “Mike can play with Candace.”

Uh-huh.

Sure, son. That was gonna go down real well.

“Daddy.”

Jack forced himself to stop laughing. He cleared his throat.

“That’s not how these things work, bud,” he said. “Why don’t you talk it over with Mikey?”

“I did,” Matt said. “An’ he told me to bug off.”

Ah, you poor child.

That was older brothers for you. Jack knew the feeling intimately.

“He’s rude,” Matt complained. “An’ he’s stealin’ my friends. He’s already stolen my identity, Dad. Tell him to stop.”

It would never not be funny that these kids thought that people confused them out of spite.

“You can both be friends with Foggy,” Jack told him. “Unless Foggy only wants to be friends with one of you.”

Matt puffed up and then deflated.

“Mikey’s got loads of friends at home,” he mumbled. “Why do I gotta share my one friend when he doesn’t share any of his?”

Oh, baby. No, it wasn’t like that.

It was just that Mike was outgoing, that was all. He just had that special knack for being around people. Jack didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, both he and Grace were not people-people. Matty was the natural extension of their mutual social awkwardness. Mike was more like Jack’s own brothers, actually. Smooth, suave, and oh-so likable.

Dangerous shit, that was.

He would be unstoppable after 14 years old.

“Here, come here, you,” Jack said. “Having friends isn’t about the number of ‘em. It’s about having fun. You have fun with your brother all the time, don’t you? And Foggy brings Candace along with you two all the time. Why don’t you guys try to be friends as a group of four, huh?”

Matt didn’t love this idea, but he relented.

“Only if Mike stops tryin’ to be a pirate,” he said. “He keeps hittin’ me with that stick.”

Ah. Okay. Well, that Jack could do something about.

---

“But I am a pirate, Dad. I’m stealin’ Matty’s friends.”

For.

Fuck’s.

Sake.

Jack could not with this boy. He simply could not.

“Son,” he said. Then paused.

No. Mike wouldn’t hear anything he said.

This was a job for Grace.

---

“Is that what Jesus would do?” Grace snapped.

Mike sulked.

“No, Mum,” he groaned.

“Then why’re you doing it to your brother?” Grace demanded.

“Cain didn’t like his brother,” Mike mumbled.

“Michael. You are named for a saint.”

Mike groaned with his whole body somehow.

“I’m sorry God,” he said.

Grace vibrated.

Jack didn’t know who to protect here.

“I just wanna be a pirate,” Mike explained. “And pirates steal things. They gotta, Mum. It’s how they make a livin’.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed.

---

Grace did this occasionally.

She kidnapped one of the twins for some personal time with them. Jack was grateful for it because that twin was usually Mike and he usually came back looking guilty as hell.

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t love his kid. It was just that Mike didn’t really show much regard for his authority.

Affection? Oh, sure. Both boys wanted nothing more than to show Jack everything they’d ever done or made. They wanted to be cuddled and tossed around and tickled. It had been ages before they understood why Dad didn’t come out swimming with them anymore—they couldn’t show him their cool seal tricks that way.

But authority? For Mike?

Nope. This kid was on the path towards trouble, and he’d probably already be there if his mama didn’t routinely take him under her flipper and remind him that he needed to think about other peoples’ feelings.

Matty, of course, had decided early on that personal time with Mum was a punishment, however.

When Jack came home without Mike, in full awareness that Mags was probably just gonna throw him in the water and tire him out until he was pliable and open to suggestion, Matt sniffed all around him and came up in tears.

It took a good ten minutes to convince him that Mike would be coming home.

What helped were some cheerios and letting Matt smell the tuna that was to go into the tuna salad sandwich that his brother was currently obsessed with. Jack reminded him that he wouldn’t be making two different kinds of sandwiches for dinner if there wasn’t gonna be someone there to eat them.

Matt played with the dry cheerios in the bowl Jack had given him and quietly asked him if Mike would be mad if he learned that Matty wanted to be a human hero like Jack.

Jack’s heart melted.

Grace had told him that Matt had told her this. But Matty hadn’t said it to him directly and he sure as hell hadn’t told Mike.

That was fair—the second bit. Mike, like most other selkies, tended to see humans as replaceable things. Kinda boring. Kinda selfish. Not overly worth his investment unless they were investing in him.

Jack thought that Mike might change his tune if he realized that his twin thought humans were kind of grand.

Or maybe not. Who knew what Mike would think.

“I think that if you tell him, he might be really confused for a while,” Jack said.

Matt dropped his handful of cereal back into the bowl and squirmed all the way back in the chair.

“’M not hungry,” he said.

Aw.

It’s okay, little one. Things will get easier with time.

---

Objectively speaking, it wasn’t long after that that Jack died.

It was what it was.

His kids were ten. They were safe. Mags tried to wrangle them.

Jack went to sleep.

Five years, he slept.

He woke up to Matty having a breakdown and Mike nowhere to be found and it was another three years before Jack managed to have enough awareness and mobility in the afterlife to get both of them to not fuckin’ do that shit.

Then it was another four years before Mike reappeared out of thin air and announced he was stayin’ in the city and where the fuck was his evil twin, which coincided with Matt showing back up from orientation at law school to shriek at Jack that Foggy was there! Foggy was back! Foggy was studying law with him and staying in his dorm and OH MY GOD, DAD, IT’S FOGGY.

Kid was love-fucking-sick.

Grace told him to watch his mouth. Matty didn’t know yet. They needed to let him figure it out on his own.

Jack thought that it had already taken Matty a good 16 years to realize that the reason he hated his brother crushing on Fogs was because he was crushing on Fogs. He was not the most self-aware of people. He deserved a little help.

Grace told him that he would speak to their younger son only upon pain of being stuffed into her flute.

Jack did not like the flute.

So he kept mum. But only in Matt’s presence.

This did not include Mike’s presence. Because Mike had other problems which looked like him trying to join a local mob, deciding that they weren’t cool enough for him, and then bouncing off to go join a pod of selkies, making enemies of all of the guys in it and then coming back to New York from a trip to Florida in the arms of a pixie who was actively trying to kill him in his sleep.

Mike was, predictably, a hot mess.

And he loved it.

God help this boy. He required all of Jack’s energy.

“Michael,” Jack reminded him exhaustedly when he stopped in the street as a gal with butterfly wings glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’ve got one at home and she’s mad enough to spit.”

“Uh-huh,” Mike said without listening.

This fucking kid.

“Hey, pops, why don’t you go be someone else’s angel for like, twenty seconds over there, huh?”

Hm. No, you’re right, what a great idea—AHAHA. No. Nice try. Jack wasn’t born yesterday.

It was his new purpose in death trying to keep this one on the straight and narrow. He’d been assigned the mission by a nun. It was now a holy quest.

“You can’t say that about everything Mom tells you to do,” Mike scowled.

He did not, however, pursue Ms. Butterfly wings.

“Where’s Matty, anyways? None of you will tell me where Matty is,” Mike pouted.

Matty was, according to Grace, being heartsick because Foggy had gone home for the holidays.

“Mass,” Jack said.

Mike rolled his eyes.

“I’m not goin’,” he said. “I’ve got a job, Dad. Tell Matt to get one, too.”

A job, huh?

What a job. Sluggin’ people on behalf of other humans.

“I can feel your disappointment and—oh, wait? It’s my life? I can do what I want? I am allowed to sustain myself with offerings however they come? Oh my god, Father. What sense you speak. You’ve turned over a new leaf, truly.”

This?

This was a Grace problem.

---

Jack didn’t expect Matt to be the one who came home with a secret violent identity.

Then he didn’t expect Mike to be the one to break down Matt’s door and stand over him and ask him what the fuck he was thinking.

Then he didn’t expect Mike to be the one to bodily drag Matt out to sea in an attempt to bring him back to his roots.

Mike nearly drowned his brother.

It was certainly one way to get everyone back on the same page. Jack wasn’t about to lie and say it was the best way, but it was definitely a way.

Mike came to church and accused him and Grace of keeping Matt’s secrets from him. Not just the devil, but the coat situation and Foggy.

Mike was justifiably upset, but Grace pointed out that Mike’s current approach to humanity did not exactly jive with his brother’s existence, and not even Mike could argue with that. Although he did try. Let it be known that he tried.

He kept cutting himself off though, saying that Matt was different from other humans. Matt wasn’t like them. He was better than them. Which was exactly what Matt took issue with. And unfortunately for Mike, his brother had supersenses, and that included super hearing.

Grace asked Jack out to go calm Matty down.

He was pretty upset.

He tucked himself into Jack when Jack got to his hiding place on the roof of his loft and asked him why Jack had told Mike about the coat to begin with.

But Jack hadn’t told Mike about the coat. No one had. Mike found out these things on his own. He was clever like that.

“He’s always treated me different,” Matt said. “I thought it was ‘cause I’m blind, but it’s always been ‘cause I’m more human, hasn’t it?”

Horrible things to hear your kids say to each other.

Also untrue.

“Mike doesn’t treat you different because you’re blind or you’re human, bud,” Jack told him. “He treats you different because you’re his brother and he’s protective of you. That’s where this is coming from. It’s nothing you did.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Matt said.

Well, no.

It probably didn’t.

---

Mike came around. And he came around by encountering the Hell’s Beast that little baby Franklin Nelson had become.

Foggy, to put it kindly, was one hell of a selkie.

He was huge, to start with. He’d grown from a chubby, pale little glow worm to a good three hundred pounds of enormous, white seal. He was staunchly traditional, if flexible, in his dealings with other fae, and he had zero patience for humanity while somehow acting entirely in their favor.

Foggy was a selkie in a textbook somewhere. He had to be. He was paranoid and untrusting of humans, but he would throw himself in the line of fire to protect anyone who he dealt with. And Mike, who’s relationship with humans tended to be more on the Trickster spectrum than the whole Noble Being one was a smidge intimidated.

At first.

Then he was violently jealous.

And let’s just play this record once more, shall we? Take it from the top.

He nagged Matt to bits, asking him to give up his bond with Fogs and to entrust his human soul to Mike.

We’re twins, Mike argued, it’s only right that I guard your soul.

Matt told him he’d lived his mortal life in plenty of dumpsters, thanks. He was looking for a change in the afterlife.

Mike told him he’d get him the nicest dumpster blood money could buy.

Matt told him to try to take the question to Fogs and see what would happen.

Mike took that to heart.

Grace asked Jack what they’d done wrong to end up with a stubborn devil-child and a vulture selkie.

Jack thought it was probably the tugboat.

Foggy, however, thought that it was the fact that Mike had zero impulse control, manners that only came out when he didn’t have the upper hand in a situation, no respect for boundaries, and shit fashion sense—not to mention a lack of interest in fae hierarchies, a fondness for antagonizing people, and, in Foggy’s opinion, a brain that didn’t properly register pain chemicals or empathy.

He told Mike that Matt’s soul was his and that if he wanted, he could fight him for it and Mike decided that that was a vow good enough for his little brother.

He switched tact and began trying to court Foggy instead and, to his credit, it sure as hell de-escalated the situation.

---

Grace told Mike that Matt was going to get his coat back, but they didn’t hear from him. Jack wasn’t sure what to do, but Grace said that they didn’t have time to wait.

When they got home and Matty was trying to relearn how to swim and struggling like a zebra on a tightrope despite having both Grace and Fogs there to keep him from sinking, Mike reappeared in a pew at the church.

Jack found him and settled in next to him.

Mike asked him if Matty was okay.

He’d gotten the message only a few days ago. His hands were a little shaky when Jack smoothed his hair back and told him that he was just fine.

And not only was he fine. But he was very recognizable now. Or he should be, to Mike more than anyone else in the world.

Mike asked if Matt was still angry with him. If Foggy was still hellbent on chasing him off.

Jack thought that maybe, what Matty really needed right then wasn’t his mama or his bondmate, but his brother. His twin.

It had been a long time since Mike wanted a hug.

He told Jack that he was sorry for being a dick all these years.

Jack told him that he wasn’t a dick. He was fiercely independent and even if Jack didn’t always agree with him, he was still proud of him and proud of that drive and that passion.

He asked him if he was ready to go make up with his brother and Mike nodded instead of saying yes out loud.

---

Matty’s new coat was white for the time being and Mike would not and could not drop that. He cooed at Matt and told him he was too fluffy to swim. Grace had to break them up before they got to neck-slamming.

But at the end of the day, Mikey was right.

Matt’s new coat was a baby’s coat. And Matt was a good 14 years out of swimming practice. His muscles had forgotten how to work as a seal. He was angry about it, which was endearing, but not especially helpful.

He explained to Mike that he’d made a deal with Fisk and Mike went dead quiet before exploding at him and once they’d mutually worked through that argument, the intensity of the swimming lessons rocketed up. Grace stood back and pulled Foggy back with her and they watched on as Mike harassed Matty back into fighting shape.

After the third night of Matt’s refresher course, Jack went to go check on them and found them piled together in their coats on Matt’s couch.

You couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended and to Jack, it felt like home.

He found threw a blanket over them both and took the time to kiss both foreheads before turning off the light and letting the purples and pinks of the billboard outside wash over them.

It was its own kind of rippling sea.

---

#ficlet #matt murdock #mike murdock #jack murdock #fic #selkie verse

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wide-eyedscottishlass · 5 years ago

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The Fisher and the Selkie

Young Duncan Campbell must man his family’s fishing boat alone for a time, as both his father and older brother are too ill with the flux to work for their daily catch. After several days of empty nets, he pulls in a surprisingly heavy catch, and finds something caught unexpectedly in his net. Takes place in Scotland, early 1600′s.

photo source

…by her silver-grey fur, he knew she was a female grey seal, by her size he guessed she was a juvenile. The poor thing was panting hard in her distress, and when Duncan laid his hand against her silky, wet fur, he found that her heartbeat was strong, but likely too rapid for her own good. “Och, aye…there, there, ye pretty lassie,” he tutted, seeking to soothe and calm the frightened beastie as he worked to release her without damaging his precious net. “I swear I’ll have ye free of this in a nonce.” At that her trembling seemed to lessen, while she continued to track his every move with those large, doleful eyes; Duncan even fancied that she understood from his tone of voice what he was saying, and thus she was doing her best to be still enough to make his task easier.

And then of a sudden, she was fully disentangled and looking up at him, the fear that had gripped her melting away from her soft, dark eyes. Taken by surprise, Duncan could’t help but chuckle, “Aye, just as I promised ye–safe ye are and safe ye’ll stay. But ye must beware the fisher nets, lassie. Not all men are as soft-hearted and as easily moved by a pretty pair of eyes as I am.”

She blinked those eyes several times, once again making him feel as though she followed exactly what he was saying. I’m going daft from the sun baking the brain in me noggin’, he told himself; there’s nae way this bonnie creature can follow a word I say! And yet she held his gaze a few moments more before settling her head against his open palm in a gesture that felt to him like gratitude, and then rolled away and over the side of his boat, barely creating a splash as she dove into the dark blue sea. Duncan watched her glide effortlessly away, just beneath the surface, until she popped her head above the water for one last look at him, before she sped away with all the grace granted to a child of the sea.

**********************************************

The Campbell family celebrated Duncan’s bountiful success that very night, and he basked in the approval of his father, having at last proven that he had the tenacity and skill to singlehandedly provide for those depending upon him. But he decided to keep the tale of his unusual encounter with the grey seal to himself--half convinced by the time that he tethered his craft to the weathered jetty which his folk had used for two generations, that his imagination had gotten the best of him. He was not at all keen to allow his hard won admiration to be frittered away into the laughter such a ridiculous claim would inspire.

For three days more, Duncan returned to that patch of water where he had finally met success, and each time he spotted the same grey seal slicing through the water and splashing playfully off his bow. She never came closer than a few feet away, and always stayed on the far side from wherever he had cast his net, as though she had learned her lesson well enough to avoid getting entangled once again. Duncan soon started to think of her as his good luck charm, for his net always came up full whenever she was nearby.

Duncan often sang while he worked, sea shanties and traditional Celtic ditties, and he noticed that his new companion would draw quite near when he sang, so that he began to pitch a song or two her way each day. Before too long he started to consider what to name her, eventually settling on Merauda, as it meant ‘of the sea’.

Once his father and brother were well enough to rejoin in those daily labors, Merauda ceased her visits, perplexing Duncan and leaving him strangely disappointed. And in their presence, he kept his singing to himself, knowing he’d make himself the object of their ridicule otherwise.

The weeks passed swiftly, and midsummer arrived, and with it a fierce heat wave that left folk short-tempered and uncomfortable. The longest day of the year was contentious in the Campbell household, due not only to the ungodly heat, but to Isla’s confinement since the twins birth the day before. Duncan took the opportunity to slip away, seeking cooler conditions out upon the water.

Alone under the cloudless night sky, the water so awash in moonlight and the sparkle of a thousand stars, and with no one around to inhibit him, Duncan was moved to sing again. At the top of his voice, he sang those old comforting, familiar songs that he had always loved best. And feeling rather lonely in the night, he sang those songs of longing and of unrequited love which were ever part and parcel of the poetry of his people. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep with the fading notes falling still, leaving only the lapping of the waves against the hull to fill the silence.

The creaking of the flooboards awoke him about an hour later, to find a pale figure standing at the bow of his boat, watching him intently. At first, Duncan thought he must be dreaming, but the soft ocean breeze that cooled his skin and the way his craft bobbed upon the waves felt far too real to be a dream. He would have called out to it, but he was too dumbfounded at first to question how--with no land or other vessel in sight--a stranger had boarded his craft. Goosebumps--the precusor to recognition--crawled across his skin as he realized it was a young woman.

Her dark, unbound hair fell halfway to her waist and her fair skin nearly shone by the light of the swollen moon that rode the sky above them. Her eyes were dark too, so dark that he could barely detect their whites, and she was standing there as naked and unashamed of it, as on the day that she was born.

Her breasts were round and full and tempting, and Duncan’s blood quickened at the thought of touching them; of cupping their succulent fullness in his palms, anticipating the sounds she might give over as he fondled her precious flesh. His mouth watered as he imagined tasting the sweet, tight buds of her nipples, and his cock grew hard as his eyes traced the curves of her dainty waist and slim hips, and down to her smooth, tempting thighs and the soft, dark thatch of hair between them, covering her mound. He’d had a fair share of village lasses and farmers’ daughters in recent years, but none as fair and beguiling as the vision that stood before him now.

Pooled at her feet, Duncan marked a wonder out of myth that made his heart beat hard with blood already heated from just the sight of her. For the full moon’s light was more than enough for him to discern the familiar, dappled pelt of his much-missed, beloved pet. For a moment, his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth as his mind reached the inescapable conclusion. Her name escaped his lips in an incredulous whisper. “Merauda.”

She nodded her head, and smiled softly as she took a cautious step towards him on newly minted legs. “So ye have named me.” Her voice sounded a little rusty--and if she were human, Duncan would assume it was from long disuse. He sat upright, afraid in part that he might break this inexplicable spell if he moved too abruptly, and repeated her name, “Merauda...how...how is this possible?”

“You were kind to me,” she answered softly, an unfamiliar but melodious accent colouring her words, “So very kind. And then you gave me a mortal name.” Now she was only a few feet away, and he smelled those things he loved best about the sea--clean, fresh air, the tang of salt, and the freedom he felt when he sailed alone--on her very skin. “And you sang for me in a voice both fair and true...”

“Aye...that I did, sweetling...” he replied, hypnotized by the same dolefulness in her widened eyes which he had seen in them as she lay tangled in his net.

“...you sang of longing and loneliness...and...and of love...”

She stood within his reach now, and Duncan’s fingers ached with his need to touch her unblemished skin, as she lowered her eyes tentatively and revealed her purpose to him, “There are none among my kind have ever touched my heart as ye have, Duncan Campbell.” She raised her eyes to his again, braving the possibility that he might reject her, and told him, “An’ I have come to ask if ye could love me too.”

The surprise and thrill of hearing his given name upon her pretty lips sent a wave of happiness coursing through him, and a heat beyond anything he had felt for any lass he’d ever had, possessed him. That’s lust, he told himself, one of those wicked, deadly sins the pater always warns about. But more than even that primal urge, Duncan felt something in his chest expand and give way, and in that instant--as he rose to meet her and gazed up close into the dark, unfathomable depths of those soft and plaintive Selkie eyes--he knew that he’d been pining badly for his Merauda for these past few weeks. And that as unnatural and surely damning as it was, he already loved her and wanted to have her forever as his own...

tagging: @strangelock221b @ben-locked @humanbornarchangel @ben-c-group-therapy @letterstosherlock @thehiddenlawyer

#my writing #The Fisher and the Selkie #original story #original characters #Selkies #Celtic myths #Merauda #OFC #Duncan Campbell #OMC #Scarlett Campbell #this Selkie is Scarlett's ancestor

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crazycat-88 · 5 years ago

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Female Selkie Maura x Female Reader (SFWish)

Content: Mostly fluff, mention of kissing. Words: 2,077, Enjoy!

You'd moved to West Oaks just over a year ago and had quickly fallen in love with the town. You loved your job, your little pink house which faced the harbour, all the shops and the people. What you loved most however was the beach and the water. You could spend hours on the beach, occasionally reading, more often people watching, counting the number of different creatures you could see that particular day and sometimes just watching the seals, trying to see if you could tell the difference between a seal and a Selkie.

You also loved the water and had tried a variety of activities, snorkeling, bodyboarding and water skiing were amongst your favourites. For the past week, you had been giving surfing a go, it didn’t matter to you that you always fell off, you still had fun. Nearing time to stop for the day, you decide to catch one last wave before you have to go to work.

Paddling into position, you get ready for the oncoming wave, as it comes in you stand and ride that wave, trying to keep your balance. It’s going well you think, until suddenly you slam into something in the water. Shrieking, you fall into the water, panicking slightly you twist and turn in the water trying to get your bearings. Managing to breach the surface, you cough and splutter, looking around for your board.

What in the hell was that, you think, locating your board. You really hope it wasn’t one of the Mer-folks that live here, on the other hand, the alternative could be worse. Clutching onto your board, your startled when a seal surfaces just a couple of metres from you and starts snarling and barking at you until suddenly it disappears under water again. Shit! That seal definitely gave you a telling off, meaning it had to have been a Selkie.

Making your way back to the beach, you strip out of your wetsuit and gather up your things to leave. Hearing a shout from behind you, you spin around to see a girl jogging towards you with a frown on her face. Seeing that she’s carrying a seal skin under her arm, you curse under your breath. Assuming her to be the Selkie you crashed into, you steel yourself for another bollocking.

She’s cute too, you think as she reaches you, with pale skin, dark eyes, a cute button nose, long dark hair and a lean figure, she’s just your type. In different circumstances you’d probably give her your number.

‘‘I am so sorry about that. My brother can be such a dick at times,’’ she says, still frowning.

‘‘Oh… Um, it’s fine,’’ you start, before she interrupts you.

‘‘No it’s not, he shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.’’

‘‘Well I did crash into him, and besides I didn’t actually understand what he was saying anyway…’’ you say, awkwardly chuckling.

‘‘Right.’’ she says, blinking at you. ‘‘Still it was an accident and he was just as much to blame.’’

‘‘It was an accident. I’m just happy no one got hurt,’’ you smile. ‘‘He is okay, isn’t he?’’

‘‘Oh he’s fine, he’s got a hard head,’’ she snorts.

You laugh. ‘‘Alright then… I need to get going, I’ve got to get to work,’’ you say, disappointed you can’t stay and chat with her.

‘‘Maybe I’ll see you around,’’ she says smiling, before turning and jogging off with a wave.

You sigh watching her, before shaking your head and making your way home cursing yourself for not getting her name. Though the chances of seeing her again are slim, you can’t help but hope.

A couple of days later and you're at the market, you’re there to get your weekly fresh fruit and vegetables, however you can’t stop yourself from browsing all the stalls. Stopping at a jewellery stall, you're just admiring a pretty necklace, with one large pearl pendant hanging from a silver chain, when you feel someone come stand right beside you and poke you on your arm. Startled you turn and are surprised to see the Selkie girl from the beach, with a large smile on her face.

‘‘Hi again,’’ she giggles. ‘‘Fancy seeing you here.’’

‘‘Hi…’’ You smile, taking her in. Today she’s wearing a pretty yellow sundress that really accentuates her figure. Introducing yourself, you hold out your hand for hers to shake.

‘‘I’m Maura,’’ she says, shaking your hand. Her hand feels really soft and you feel your stomach flutter as her hand clasps your own. ‘‘So, do you like the necklace?’’

‘‘Oh…Yes,’’ you say, looking back down at the necklace, having completely forgotten what you’d just been looking at. ‘‘It’s so pretty.’’

‘‘I’m glad you think so. My grandmother made it, I found the pearl though,’’ she grins, walking round to the other side of the stall.

‘‘Really? Wow. Well your grandmother does excellent work,’’ you say, admiring the necklace again. You wish you had the money to buy it but you wouldn’t be paid for days and you were running low.

‘‘I know, but I’ll tell her you said so,’’ she says laughing. ‘‘Normally she would be here selling her jewellery herself but she couldn’t make it today, so I’m filling in for her.’’

‘‘I didn’t think I’d ever seen you here before.’’

You stay and chat to Maura for awhile, mainly about the jewellery and where she finds the pearls, only pausing briefly for her to serve other customers. When a large group approaches, you tell her you have to finish getting the rest of your shopping but it was nice seeing her again.

‘‘Listen, I’ve really enjoyed talking to you,’’ she starts, only to stop taking a deep breath. ‘‘Some friends of mine are having a party on the beach tonight, down by the cove, would you... like to meet me there?’’

‘‘Yeah, I’d love too,’’ you say smiling, feeling your stomach flutter again, this definitely sounds like a date you think happily.

‘‘Great,’’ she says grinning. ‘‘I’ll see you there then, at about eight?’’

‘‘I’ll be there. Eight o’clock. See you later,’’ you wave, nodding and walking backwards. Bumping into someone you quickly apologise before heading off to get your shopping. Now you’ll need to figure out what to wear, shower and take off your flaking nail varnish and… shaking your head you tell yourself to calm down. You’ll be there and she’ll be there and hopefully you’ll have a good time without making a fool of yourself.

You set off a little early, taking your time walking down the beach to settle your nerves. When you reach the cove, you see that the little cove is already packed with people. When Maura said some friends you weren’t sure what to expect but it wasn’t this you think looking around. There’s people everywhere, on the sand, sitting on the rocky ridge and in the water. There’s all sorts of Mer-folk, as well as other non-humans, and you see what might be some humans here but you can’t tell for sure.

You finally spot Maura sitting on one of the logs that have been placed around a fire pit at the far edge of the cove. Making your way over to her, you wave when she looks around in your direction. You watch as a wide smile crosses her face and she stands and hugs you when you reach her.

‘‘I am so glad you could make it,’’ she says as she steps back a little.

‘‘Me too,’’ you say, taking her in. She’s changed out the dress she was wearing earlier and is now wearing a little lace dress. ‘‘You look nice,’’ you say, trying not to stare.

‘‘Thank you. You look really pretty too,’’ she smiles, looking at your outfit briefly before looking back to your face. ‘‘Come sit, I came with marshmallows so we could toast them…’’

‘‘Thanks. That sounds great.’’

Sitting beside her, you watch while she pulls out a couple of bags of marshmallows and a bunch of skewers from a backpack sitting at her feet. Before she zips the bag back up, you spot a glimpse of what looks like her pelt and wonder if she always keeps it on her. As she tosses one of the bags of marshmallows to a girl sitting on another log, she turns to you and explains that she’s one of her brothers girlfriend.

‘‘One of? How many brothers do you have,’’ you ask curiously as she hands you a skewer.

‘‘Just two, Murron and Ronan. Ronans the oldest and Murron's my twin,’’ she says, skewering a marshmallow on the end of your skewer before skewering one onto her own.

‘‘Which one did I collide with?’’ You ask, as you start toasting one of your marshmallows over the fire.

‘‘That would be my twin, he’s not here tonight though. Ronan is somewhere around here,’’ she says glancing around. ‘‘Honestly I’m surprised he’s not with Molly, he tends to stick to her like glue,’’ she laughs, nodding towards the girl she gave the marshmallows too. ‘‘Oh careful, you’re burning it,’’ she says, pulling your hand with the skewer away from the fire.

‘‘Oh crap,’’ you say, blowing on your marshmallow. You were so distracted listening to her, to pay attention to the food. ‘‘I think it’s okay.’’

‘‘Good,’’ she replies, before starting to eat her own. ‘‘Mmm... these are so good,’’ she moans around a mouthful of marshmallow. You nod absently but honestly wouldn’t know, your too busy watching her work her mouth around the mallow. As her tongue comes out to lick her lips, you wonder what she’d taste like.

Meeting your eyes, she giggles and plucks the mallow of the end of your skewer and raises it to your mouth. Eating it out of her hand, you hear her breath catch, as your lips brush her fingers. Her full lips part in a gasp as you lick a piece of mallow of her fingers and her cheeks turn bright pink. Chuckling slightly, you grab more marshmallows to skewer.

You spend all evening talking her, telling her about your job and your love of the water. She tells you what she enjoys about being a Selkie, and her favourite things to do. You briefly meet her brother but he doesn’t stay to chat, pulling up his girlfriend to dance with him instead. Maura pulls you up to dance at one point and as people start to leave, asks you if you want to take a walk along the beach.

You walk down the beach hand in hand in a peaceful silence. It’s one of those silences that isn’t awkward, just calm and reflective. As your approaching the harbour, you point out to her that you live in the little pink house and ask if she wants to come in. She’s frowns for a moment clearly thinking.

‘‘I… I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,’’ she says looking down shyly.

‘‘That’s okay… We don’t have to rush anything,’’ you say, raising your hand to her face and tilting her chin up to look at you. ‘‘I’m not going anywhere,’’ you smile.

‘‘You don’t mind?’’ she asks quietly.

‘‘Of course not,’’ you say, shaking your head. ‘I would like to see you again... and we can take this as slow as you need.’’

‘‘I’ve never dated a human before,’’ she chuckles. ‘But, I really you.’’

‘‘I really like you too, and I’ve never dated a Selkie before, but I can’t imagine it’s much different from dating anyone else.’’

‘‘Maybe not,’’ she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘‘I would quite like to kiss you though…’’

‘‘I wouldn’t object,’’ you giggle. Taking a light hold of her hips, you brush your lips across hers, letting her set the pace. The kiss is short and sweet but it still causes your stomach to flutter. You end up exchanging phone numbers and she promises to call you soon, with that you say goodnight and finish your walk home smiling happily and hoping you hear from her soon.

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Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it then please reblog it. Comments are alsom much appreciated, I really like hearing what you think of these stories.

My Masterlist

#exophilia #female monster #female reader #female selkie #selkie #female/female #my writing #My OC’s

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distant-rose · 7 years ago

Text

Seal of Fate Ch. 4 (5/8)

Notes: There’s a lot of emotions in this chapter, which makes absolutely no sense because I’m the most emotionally stunted person I know. Though I’m very curious to hear some of the reactions in regard to the last scene because it’s kinda me partially revealing my hand here. Anyway, a special thank you to @shireness-says and @katie-dub for motivating me and helping me through some of my writer’s block. Thanks also to @aerica13 who is my fantastic beta and is the best person to edit with. Thanks also goes to @cssns and @drowned-dreamer for making my CSSNS experience as excellent as it has been. Summary: Emma Swan is looking for only one thing - answers. Abandoned outside a police station in Menemsha, Martha’s Vineyard, Emma has dedicated her life to finding out where she comes from and why she was given away. She finds an unlikely partner in Killian, a selkie she inadvertently summons in a fit of frustration over her cold case. Word Count: 4,200+ AO3: [LINK] Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue Rating: T+

Night fell and Emma watched it from her window sill, afraid to leave the confines of her bedroom. She didn’t want to leave and discover the magnitude of the damage caused by their fight. She wasn’t prepared to deal with an empty house.

Her stomach wasn’t on board with this however. It made a loud displeased growl, prompting her to finally creep out of her room and pad softly down the stairs. In a brief moment of courage, she glanced in the direction of Killian’s bedroom but the door was closed and she was unwilling to disturb it.

When she entered the small kitchen, she noted the large grocery bag on the counter and a wave of guilt rushed over her. Even though she had left him alone all day with no explanation, he had brought it upon himself to buy groceries without her asking. He had even bought her cinnamon sugar Poptarts, despite denouncing them as “sugar-coated garbage.”

She placed the box down on the counter, head buried in her hands. Once again, the gravity of their fight was weighing on her. She had driven away the one person who had, for a brief moment, given a damn about her. The weight of the loss alongside the hopelessness of her investigation felt like an anchor around her neck and she was slowly drowning.

It was almost mindless, the way she toed on her sandals and headed out the front door. The only thing that had been more constant than Killian in this place had been the ocean and she needed that right now.

The night air was cooler than she had expected, piercing even the warmth of her hoodie. Despite the chill, Emma continued her trek to the beach and sat down in her usual spot along the shoreline. She watched the waves softly roll in while playing with the sand, grabbing piles and allowing them to slip through her fingers.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were a child of the sea...” Emma jumped, unable to believe her ears. She turned around instantly to make sure they hadn’t misled her. Killian. “You’re still here,” she whispered in disbelief. “Of course I am, love. Where was I going to go?” It’s then that she remembered that he was bound to her. She had been so upset about their fight that she had completely forgotten that Killian was stuck here until she became happy, something that felt nigh impossible at this point. “Right, sorry.” “It’s fine,” he shrugged before sitting next to her. “Today was...something.” “That’s a word for it.” “Well, I knew it was a matter of time before I would find you here. Even when we’re focused on looking for your parents, you always have one eye looking out towards the water.” “People feel drawn to it. It’s kind of a normal thing.” “Not like you,” he asserted. “Just who exactly are you Emma Swan?”

“An unwanted souvenir it seems.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Well, it’s the most likely option at this point,” she murmured, resting her head on her knees. “I’ve never encountered a trail this cold...There’s nothing...I...I went to Oak Bluffs today, you know, to see the hospital records and see if I matched any of them. I was so close, Killian, so close. There were two that could have been me and I wanted so badly to be either of them, but both of them are islanders. There’s nothing! It’s like I just showed up out of thin air and no one wanted to know why!”

“I want to know why,” he replied softly.

“You don’t want to, you have to,” she corrected. “Your only hope to go home is me and that’s not much hope at all...I’m sorry…”

Killian shifted uncomfortably at her words, scratching at the skin behind his ear. He let out a deep breath before turning his entire body to face her.

“That’s not entirely true, love.”

“What do you mean?”

He bit his lip, his eyes moving away from her face and darting past her to look at the ocean. He worked his jaw for a moment.

“I may or may not have misled you a bit…in regard to my ability to go back.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not stuck here. I’m here because I want to be.”

“I’m sorry, what?” She couldn’t comprehend what exactly he was telling her.

“Selkies can go back to the sea whenever they want to. As long as they have their pelt, they can come and go as they please between land and sea…”

“What the fuck does my happiness have to do with anything then?!” It was only the knowledge that it was the middle of the night and her neighbors were probably sleeping that kept her from screaming at him like she wanted to.

“Well, selkies...we as a species… we like causing joy and happiness...we are used to being worshiped and adored by humans...you, you were so unhappy, you were unlike any human I have ever known, I just wanted to know you. I wanted to make you smile…”

“So I’m just some curiosity project for you?” She hissed, eyes flashing.

“I won’t lie that my curiosity is what brought me to your doorstep but not what kept me here.”

“Then what did?”

It’s then that he finally pulled his gaze from the ocean and looked her straight in the eye. “You.”

“Me?”

“Aye, you. You’re a force of nature, Emma. You’re more than just an unwanted souvenir. You’re wonderful and powerful, nigh unstoppable, which is why I’m asking you not to give up hope. If anyone is going to uncover the truth...It’s you.”

“I...thank you.”

“No need to thank me, it’s just the truth, love.”

“Still…” She trailed, unable to find the words she was looking for. She felt raw in the wake of his confession and more vulnerable than she had a long time. She looked back at the water, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be calmed by the sound of the surf.

They sat in silence, not looking at each other. Killian started toying with the small shells left behind by the high tide while Emma traced indiscernible designs in the wet sand by her feet. The lull in conversation laid uncomfortably on her shoulders and she felt the need to shrug it off.

“His name was Neal.”

He looked up, meeting her eyes with a frown. “Pardon?”

“You asked me more than a few times who broke my heart. His name was Neal.”

Killian didn’t say anything, merely watched her with a look caught between curious and concerned. When she realized he was waiting for her continue instead of responding, she continued.

“You see...I was adopted at first. They didn’t think they could have children so they took me in, and then when the miracle baby came along, I was unwanted and went into foster care when I was three. Eleven foster homes but no forever home.”

“That must have been difficult,” he murmured.

He placed a hand on her back, thumb rubbing a back and forth motion against her shirt. It was soothing but she couldn’t find it in herself to fully relax.

“It was sometimes. There were as many good foster homes as there were bad ones. I can’t say it was all terrible but the bad ones certainly left their scars,” she murmured, bringing her hand up to her collarbone and smoothing her fingers along the ridge as she remembered the foster father who used to use her as a personal ashtray. The burn mark from one of his cigarette butts was still there. “But the last one was the worst and that’s when I had enough and ran away.”

“How old were you?”

“I was seventeen. Old enough to figure things out things on my own but young enough that I shouldn’t have had to,” she replied. “Five months after I ran off, I met him. You see, no one wants to employ a homeless teenager with no high school diploma. I was stealing things to survive.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the quelling emotional storm inside her. She hadn’t talk about Neal since she left prison. It felt like she was picking at an old scar that had healed wrong the first time. Killian said nothing, just continued to rub her back. She scooted a little bit closer to him. Like it or not, she needed his support for this.

“You know my Bug?”

“The yellow monstrosity you drive?”

“Don’t diss my car,” she admonished, lightly smacking him. “I met Neal when I stole that car. He had stolen it first, you see, and was sleeping in the backseat. He could have turned me in but instead he saved my ass...and we became partners...for the first time I felt like I was a part of something.”

“What happened?”

“Phoenix happened,” she spat. “That fucking asshole got me arrested.”

“He did what?”

“There were these watches he stole...we were going to fleece them and settle down together in Tallahassee…” She could feel the tears coming. “He sent me to what I thought was a pickup...but was actually a trap. There was an officer there waiting for me. Neal tipped him off.”

Killian swore softly under his breath. Emma nodded numbly in agreement, averting her eyes from his face. She didn’t want to see the look of pity on his face when she finished the story.

“I...I was pregnant.”

He stiffened, the hand on her back stilling.

“Did he know?”

She shook her head. “No. I didn’t even know, not until I went to prison. I never saw him again. I looked but he’s the one person I never found - well, aside from my parents.”

“That’s bad form...no, that’s the worst form I’ve ever heard...that’s…”

“Yeah,” she chuckled ruefully. “I don’t know what I would have done if I saw him again.”

“Tying him up and leaving him for the sharks would have been most appropriate,” he replied darkly. He softened his tone when he asked his next question. “What happened to the babe?”

The tears that had been welling up before this point finally fell, spilling quietly down her cheeks. Hesitantly, Killian’s hand moved from her back to her shoulder and he tugged at her slightly in order to bring her closer to him. She went willingly, burrowing her face into his chest as his arms wrapped around her tightly. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been held like that.

“I put him up for adoption. I was seventeen, had no family, no high school education and a criminal record to boot. There was no way I could have kept him…”

“But you wanted to.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Her voice cracked and she hated herself for it.

Killian said nothing for awhile, just continued to hold her and rub her back. She kept her head in the crook of his shoulder, trying very hard not to cry more than she already had. It was a moment before he spoke again.

“I want you to know that you’re possibly the strongest person I’ve ever met, human or otherwise.”

She snorted in response. “I highly doubt that. I’ve turned you into living Kleenex.”

“Crying is not weak, Emma,” he admonished quietly. “You’ve been through more than I could even imagine and you’re here, you’re still alive and you’re fighting for answers. Surviving is the strongest thing anyone can ever do.”

Emma didn’t know what to say in response to that, especially because she didn’t necessarily agree with him. So she remained silent, enjoying the comfort while it lasted. A cold gust made its way across the beach and despite Killian’s warmth, she still shivered. It was mid-October and the temperature was dropping more rapidly by the day.

“How about we take this indoors?” He suggested quietly. “And you make us some of the hot chocolate you’re so fond of?”

“That sounds good,” she chuckled dryly, wiping at her eyes. With all the emotions of the day, she was certain that she looked like a drowned raccoon at this point. Killian, almost reluctantly, separated himself from her and rose to his feet. Emma followed, feeling even colder than she had before. As if sensing her discomfort, he reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her to his side.

“What’s with all the cuddling?” Despite her question, she didn’t pull away.

“Just being a gentleman and keeping the lady warm.”

She snorted. “I think the last thing anyone would call me is a lady.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you on that, Swan.”

“Whatever.”

They quietly walked back into the house, making a beeline for the kitchen. Emma went searching for the saucepan while Killian unpacked the rest of the groceries that she had left abandoned on the counter. She grabbed the milk from the refrigerator and began heating it up on the stove. He watched her with mild curiosity, a frown playing at his lips.

“I thought you used that powder to make hot chocolate?”

“You can but it’s been a shit day and this calls for the real thing,” she replied.

“The real thing?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled lightly before biting her lip. “My favorite foster mom...Ingrid...she taught me this recipe. I save it for special occasions…”

“Why was she your favorite?”

“Because she cared,” Emma replied quietly. “She was the only one who seemed to and for a little while, it felt like I had a mother...I thought she was going to adopt me but then she got sick…”

“I can’t seem to stop picking at your worst memories it seems.”

She shook her head. “No, not all bad. Ingrid wasn’t bad.”

The conversation lulled again as she stirred in the chocolate. She focused her attention on making sure the milk didn’t burn while Killian shuffled in the background. When she was finished, she found him sitting at the table, looking back over the case files that were still strewn across it.

“So, the hospital was a dead end?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t on file. Total waste of a day.”

“Not entirely,” he replied, looking up at her. “I think I might have something actually.”

Emma froze. “What?”

“I said I think have something.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything sooner?!”

“Because it wasn’t appropriate. I was going to tell you when you got home but some issues got the best of us and it was pushed aside. You being upset became my primary concern.”

“What exactly is this lead of yours?” Emma asked.

“Well, as you’re aware, I didn’t necessarily sit on my rear all day.”

“Yeah, thanks for getting the Poptarts.”

“We’ll talk about your atrocious eating habits later but I decided to do some digging around town - you know, talk to some of the locals about what they knew about you.”

“Did you refer to me specifically or the case?” Emma asked, feeling her hackles rise.

He gave her a long look. “I’m trying very hard not to be insulted. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, love, but I’m a bit perceptive and I’ve noticed the amount of hoops you’ve gone through to keep the fact this case is about you secret. Of course I didn’t tell anyone that you’re the baby in question.”

She relaxed slightly at his words, raising her mug to her lips and sipping. Killian took it as a cue to continue.

“Anyway, I made it round to Granny’s and chatted with Leroy and those blokes. Miserable bastards, the lot of them really but they had a vague recollection of you being found. They didn’t know much but they’re not the lead.”

“Then what’s the lead? You’ve been building this up enough, haven’t you? Just spit out already!”

“The Lady Lucas knows something.”

“Ruby?” Emma was confused.

“No. Her grandmother. She acted strangely when I mentioned the case.”

She let out a disappointed huff, placing her mug down on the table and groaning. She rubbed at her temples.

“A weird reaction? That’s all you got for me?”

“It’s more than we’ve gotten so far. She knows something, Emma. I’m certain of it.”

“Killian, we need more than just a reaction to some questions...I…” she sucked in a breath. “I don’t know if I can handle another dead end…”

He stood abruptly, causing Emma to jump. He took steady footsteps towards her, placing his hands on her shoulders. The intense look on his face made her uncomfortable so she averted her eyes, looking down at her feet.

“Emma, look at me.”

Reluctantly, she met his gaze.

“We are going to solve this. We are. There is no question in my mind that we are going to find out where you come from. Do you hear me?”

She nodded wordlessly.

“I need you to trust me on this. Please.”

“You’re really that certain that she knows something?”

“I’m willing to bet my life on it.”

Emma searched his face, noting how serious his expression was. She had no doubt in her mind that he meant it. She worried at her bottom lip.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“We’ll stop by the diner tomorrow and talk to her while we get coffee. I don’t think it’s going to lead to anything but I’m willing to humor you just this once because we got nothing.”

He frowned at her. “Shouldn’t we go now?”

“Killian, it’s the middle of the night. The diner is closed and, honestly? I’m exhausted. We’ll pick this up tomorrow morning.”

Killian looked like he wanted to argue but merely sighed in response. He picked up his untouched hot chocolate and gave her a rueful smile.

“To a better tomorrow, love?”

She chuckled, raising her own mug and tapping it against his. “Yeah. I can drink to that.”

She hadn’t been lying when she said she was exhausted but she realized just how completely drained she was as she made her way up the stairs. Her legs felt like lead and the weight of the emotional upheaval of the day felt heavy on her shoulders.

Despite her fatigue, she slept fitfully; unable to calm her chaotic thoughts. She gave up trying around four in the morning, rising from her bed and heading downstairs. Emma enjoyed staying in Ruby’s beach house but she wasn’t without complaints, particularly in the regard to the fact there was only one television. It had thrown her off at first, especially because she was in the habit of leaving it on while she slept.

She watched infomercials for a good two hours before she got restless. She gave the antique clock on the wall a quick glance. 6:50. If she walked over to Granny’s, it would be open by the time she got there. She got off the couch and walked to the bottom of the stairs, listening intently. Though Killian’s door was closed, she could still hear the muffled sound of him snoring.

She made a decision.

Digging out a notepad with the Black Dog logo on it, she scribbled a hurried note to let him know that she had gotten up early and was going to get coffee. She didn’t want a repeat episode of yesterday.

As she walked into town, a small wave of guilt washed over her. Killian, like it or not, was her partner on the case and he would most certainly not be happy that she had left him behind yet again. It was better this way however. Though she had agreed to humor him and most certainly would ask Granny about the case, she wasn’t so confident that anything would come of it. She didn’t want to deal with his disappointment on top of her own when it happened.

Ruby was just opening up the diner when she arrived. Though she was dressed in her waitress apron, Ruby didn’t look ready for anyone; eyes squinting in the morning light and a vague, zombie-like expression on her face. She became more animated when she noticed Emma.

“Hey! Where’s tall, dark and handsome?”

“Still sleeping,” Emma chuckled. “But probably won’t be for long. He’s got a nose for coffee.”

“Just coffee today?”

“Yes, unless you’ve got those amazing jelly doughnuts ready?”

“I wouldn’t call them amazing but yeah. We have some.”

“I’ll take six,” she paused, biting her lip. “Is your grandmother around?”

Ruby snorted. “When she is not? She takes micromanaging to a whole new level.”

“Can I talk to her? I think she might be able to help with our case…”

“Oh,” she blinked, slightly confused. “Yeah, sure, come on in, she’s in the kitchen.”

Emma followed Ruby into the diner, slightly startled by the classic rock that was blaring from the jukebox. It seemed a little too early in the day to be listening to the Rolling Stones. Granny was putting the doughnuts in the front display underneath the breakfast bar. She straightened up, brushing her hands against her knees and tentatively smiling as she caught sight of them.

“I’m assuming that you want the usual?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you about my case.”

The smile was immediately wiped from her face. She glanced in Ruby’s direction for a brief moment before looking back at Emma. She let out a loud sigh, pursing her lips.

“Ruby, I need you to close the door and call Leroy. Tell him I’m sick and need him to man the kitchens. This is going to take a while,” she said before looking at Emma. “You’re going to want to follow me upstairs.”

“What?” This wasn’t what Emma had been expecting at all when she decided to humor Killian’s suggestion.

“What I have to say is best said in private,” she replied gruffly. “Come on.”

She then turned on her heel and headed down a narrow hallway that led to a flight of stairs. She turned and lifted her eyebrows expectantly at Emma before motioning for her to come. Completely confused by the turn of events, she tentatively walked towards her. They went up the stairs into a small apartment setup. It was tidy but cluttered, walls covered in photos and tables covered in various knickknacks.

Granny didn’t say anything to Emma nor she did offer her a seat. Instead, she went straight into the kitchen and picked up a bottle of whiskey off the counter. She then pulled two glasses from the cabinets, pouring two fingers worth.

“Isn’t a little early in the day for that?” Emma asked in alarm.

“If there’s any conversation that needs alcohol, it’s this one,” Granny replied, slamming back one of the glasses like a pro. She filled it almost immediately. “I always knew this day would come. I expected you to come sooner, you know...But the moment I saw you, I knew who you were. I hoped against hope that you weren’t but there’s no denying it...you look just like your mother...though you’re a blondie just like David.”

The colour drained from Emma’s face. She stood still for a moment, not even daring to breathe. She was afraid that if she moved, whatever was happening at this moment would cease to exist.

“You know who my parents are…”

The gruff expression on Granny’s face faltered and was replaced with one that ached of loss. She looked down at the glasses she had filled and Emma thought for a brief moment that she was going to throw back another one.

“I do. I knew them personally,” she admitted. “And they didn’t deserve what happened to them. You didn’t deserve what happened to you and it’s something I live with every day. But before we have this conversation, there’s something that I need to return to you.”

She handed Emma one of the whiskey glasses and placed the other on the coffee table before disappearing into a room that Emma could only assume was a bedroom. She was gone for less than a minute before she returned, this time with something in her hands.

At first, she thought it was a fur shawl, pure white and dainty looking. Granny placed it wordlessly in her lap before sitting across from her. Emma ran her fingers through it. It feel softer than anything she had ever felt and, surprisingly, familiar. She had felt this texture before.

And that’s when she knew exactly what it was.

The realisation hit her like a MAC truck and she nearly dropped it. She made a frantic grab and caught it before it hit the floor, cradling it to her chest with shaky fingers. When she met Granny’s eyes, the older woman was looking at her with a remorseful expression.

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

“I think you and I both know what it is, Emma. It’s yours.”

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fic #cs fanfiction #cssns #seal of fate #my fic #my shit

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gravity-what · 7 years ago

Text

Falling into freezing water isn’t ideal

For some reason my first attempt at posting this went wrong and the ‘read more’ didn’t work so I’m just going to re-post it

And now I finally get to post this!!

This is my secret Santa gift for @wannabeagrunklefan !!

WARNING: Stancest

Content is SFW and consists of Ford taking care of Stan when he falls into freezing water. Multiple times…

Falling into freezing water isn’t ideal

“Go on without me.”

“Stanley please.”

“It’s too late, I’m done for sixer! Tell the kids I love them.”

“Stanley stop, you are being unre-”

“Tell Soos he can have the shack but he should probably keep out of the secret boarded up part of the attic where-”

“Okay now you are just being ridiculous.” Stanford sighed as he put the bowl of soup down that he had been trying to feed to Stanley. “Which, given everything you have said to me in the course of this conversation, is impressive.”

Stanley sniffled and glared at Ford from where he was bundled within an overabundance of blankets and propped up on a number of pillows. “Well you wouldn’t have to listen to it if you just whipped up some miracle cure. I know you have something on you somewhere. You just like making me suffer.”

Ford shook his head at that and didn’t have to try too hard to bite back a smile. Stanley truly did look miserable bundled up in his blankets on their bed with the radiator pulled as close as they could move it over to his side. Ford placed the soup down, a little precariously, on one of the shelves next to the, frankly too small for two grown men to share, bed and moved to crawl up next to him. Stanley glared at him as he did but his arms and legs were too bundled up to stop Ford from easily shifting them about so Stanley was pressed against Ford’s side, bundled in his arms now too as well as the blankets. He kissed softly at his forehead at Stanley sniffled and smiled softly down at him.

“I’m sorry Stanley. If you had an actual infection I would be able to do more. As it is, you’re just cold and warming you up too fast with something I invent would just make it worse.” He apologized, kissing at his forehead again “if you do get sick from this though I do have something I can give you but for now it’s blankets, warm soup, and me until that chill of yours is gone.”

Stanley grumbled at that but most of the fight had left him when Ford had taken him up in his arms. His eyes had even fluttered closed and he looked like he was closer to sleep then he had been since his accidental tumbled into the Arctic Ocean. Ford was tempted to try and keep him awake, to insist he eat the soup, but rescuing Stanley had taken a lot out of him too and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Neither of them were.

He moved Stanley a little more so he could rest his head against his chest and leaned his own head back against the bed’s headboard, eyes slipping closed as he let sleep start to pull at him.

He tried not to snicker too much as the memory of Stanley trying to fight a very determined penguin for his hat surfaced in his mind just as sleep started to take him. Of all the ways Ford had imagined they might end up in some danger, a too-curious penguin and a smooth patch of ice hasn’t been it.

Ford wondered if the recording was as hilarious as experiencing It in real life.

—–

Ford woke up, blinking, to soft light falling across his face from the porthole next to the bed and the smell of freshly buried coffee. He blinked, rubbed hugs eyes only to hit the glasses he had forgotten to take off, and tried to put together where he was and why he was.

The bed sank, A cup of coffee was shoved into his hands, and a warm body scooted in next to him. Right, Stanley.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed.” He told him groggily as he brought the coffee up to his lips to sip. It was still near boiling and just how he liked it. “How are you feeling.”

In answer Stanley blew his nose loudly next to him before throwing the tissue on the shelf where he had shoved all the others, and picked up his own coffee, prepared far sweeter than Ford ever preferred. “I’m awake aren’t I?” Stan replied anyway with a grumble as he drank his own coffee “head feels like a balloon and I’m still aching but I can’t tell if it’s normal aching or ‘fell into ass-cold ice water’ aching.” He shifted, pressing closer to Ford.

Ford balanced his coffee in one hand and brought a hand up to run along Stanley’s forehead. He couldn’t feel a fever at least and Stanley didn’t seem to be shivering any more.

“I can give you something for the congestion.” Ford promised him, and left his hand drop. “And probably something for that aching too but I don’t want to start you down the path of daily pain medication.

“Gee sixer. Love you too.” Stanley grumbled, but there was no real heat to it, or maybe it was just hard to convey true annoyance with two clogged up noses.

Ford smiled and shifted to look out the window. It is still fall and so the sky is in a puerperal twilight that makes it impossible to tell exactly what time it is. Still, October will be over soon and the arctic will be forced into a darkness that wouldn’t end until the next spring. Ford was tempted, still, to stay up there longer to explore, even in the never ending night, but there were other anomalies to explore, closer to civilization, that they could buffer out the winter exploring.

Stanley continued to sniffle next to him.

“I’ve been thinking of heading down to Norway.” Ford finally says, conversationally as he drinks his coffee, “there is a small but persistent anomaly that keeps pinging from there. Could be fun.”

Stanley shifted at that but simply laid his head on Ford’s shoulder. He probably had a headache too from the congestion now that Ford thought about it. “Norway hu? Alright. At least I can get a decent drink there.”

Ford smiled.

————

The next time Stanley fell into the water was freezing North Sea in a near drunken stumble as he tried to hit on seals over a cliff edge as they were passing around the edge of Scotland.

“I told you those weren’t selkies” Ford complained as he brought Stanley some hearty stew from the pub they were currently renting the room above, just until Stanley started feeling a little better and could return to the colder boat. “They have smaller bodies then the ones you were yelling at and a more streamline build.” Ford insisted as he rose spoon up to Stanley’s mouth. Stanley glared at him angrily from where he was bundled up but obviously didn’t want to remove the blankets from around himself as he leaned forward to take a bite. He nearly coughed at the unexpected heat but managed to swallow it down so he didn’t spray soup everywhere before glaring again at Ford.

“Are you trying to kill me!? That stuff is boiling!” he complained, pulling the blankets closer so he could glare over them. Ford looked down at the soup before taking a bite himself and nearly choking before putting it aside. “Your right. Let’s…let that cool a while.” He mumbled, placing it on the bedside counter before standing up from the old wooden chair he had pulled to Stanley’s side.

“At least now we both have burnt tongues.” Stanley mumbled into his blanket as he shifted to lay down. Ford came back over after a moment with one of his new journals and a pen and started to sketch. Stanley turned to look at him, eyes half lidded as he did so, but soon the scratch-scratch-scratch of pen on paper pulled him down into sleep.

He was woken later, though it was hard to tell how much ‘later’ with the near perpetual night, by Ford shaking his shoulder lightly. “How are you feeling?” was asked softly as Stanley sat up with a groan, his back popping dangerously as he did so.

“Warmer.” he admitted reluctantly as he looked over to the small wood fireplace that Ford had built up sometime while he had slept. “How long was I out?”

“Only a few hours.” Ford reassured him as he picked up his abandoned journal and turned it so Stan could see the new entry. A picture of Stan falling into the ocean as he yelled at seals on one page and a picture of him sleeping bundled and sleeping in too many blankets on the next. The area in between was filled with the written account of the story and a small diagram was added to show the difference between selkies and normal seals.

Ford smiled at Stan over the book.

Stan threw a pillow at him.

————

The next time Stanley fell into freezing water was far more concerning than getting on the wrong side of a penguin or trying to hit on seals.

The next time involved a kelpie.

They had made their way to scotland after a while of exploring Norway and Ford had thought nothing of letting Stanley stretch his legs by going for a walk into the port-city they had landed in. Ford had needed time to finish off his entries into the journal and Stanley had been restless. There shouldn’t have been any harm. They had arrived in the mid-morning and the sun would be up for a while yet.

And then Stanley didn’t return.

Ford cursed himself for the way he last track of time as he worked and ran out of the boat. He nearly ran as he asked around the town for a man like him but there was little help to be had and Ford swore he would install a locating chip into Stanley’s hearing aids so he could find him in situations like this!

But find him he did: nearly too late as Stanley’s lips were already turning blue as he seemed to not realize the danger he was in. He was sitting on the edge of a outcropping of rocks, bare-feet dangling into the water and was more ice then not, as he chatted animabably with another old man sitting next to him doing similarly yet who seemed unaffected by the cold. Ford could only just see the hooves under the water but the duckweed in his hair was pretty obvious.

“Stanley!” Ford had called out, rushing forward to try and pull his brother away from the waters edge, only to startle the other man so badly that he transformed back into a horse right then and their, knocking Stanley from his perch as the Kelpie sprang away back into the water.

“I knew exactly what he was.” Stanley insisted much later that night as he sniffled in Ford’s hold. They were both bundled under the blankets at a local hotel as Ford had had to jump into the water to drag Stanley out.

It was also a small excuse for Ford to hold Stanley for an extended period of time but Stan would likely tease him if he admitted that so instead he leaned his head down to press a kiss to Stanley’s bare shoulder. Ford hadn’t brought a spare set of clothing when he had run from the boat and he wasn’t going to waste the time going all the way back to the boat on a Scottish winter dusk with a near frozen Stanley.

Besides, naked bodies were far better at spreading heat to one another.

“I just lost track of time.” Stanley went on with a huff, pressing back into Ford’s body at the kiss and Ford couldn’t help but wind his arms around him even tighter.

“You were in the freezing cold with your feet are in freezing water. That’s a little more than ‘losing track of time’” Ford mumbled against the back of Stanley’s neck. “How are your feet? Still numb?” He asked, truly worried that there might be something terribly wrong with them. He pushed his own feet forward between Stanley’s to check that they were warming up just in case Stan tried to lie.

“Their fine.” He insisted, shuffling back slightly to get more of Ford’s warmth. “Tingling.” He added when Ford pinched his side for the lie. “But they’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.” The last part was mumbled against Stanley’s pillow and Ford let out a low sigh. Both he and Stanley had been through much worse he knew but neither of them had been quite so old.

“Alright Stanley.” Ford mumbled as he held him a little tighter. “But I’ll be keeping an eye on them just in case.”

————-

The next time Stanley fell into water Ford pushed him in.

Stanley came up sputtering and glaring as Ford smiled down at him from their boat.

“Welcome to the Mediterranean Sea!” He told Stanley happily as he reached down to help pull him up. “Better than falling into the Arctic or north seas right?”

He was pushed into the water himself for that but he figured it was probably worth it.

#stancest #stancest fanfiction #sfw

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gadgetgirl71 · 4 years ago

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October 2020 Reading List

After last months Birthday Celebration reading list of being able reading any books I wanted, so this month its back to normal.

Most of the books I’ve chosen to read are from my ARC list. If I manage to read these books then I will then pick something off my GoodReads TBR list again.

Don’t forget to pop by again on the 6 October to see what book I pull out of the Random Jar of the Month.

October’s Books:

The Fate of Us by Tori Fox, Page: 261, Publication Date: 27 August 2020

Ghost by Dolly Alderson, Pages: 336, Publication Date: 15 October 2020

The Illustrated Child by Polly Crosby, Pages: 400, Publication Date: 29 October 2020

Reflect (Reclaim Trilogy #1) by Jess Booth & Joanna Reeder, Pages: 507, Publication Date: 8 September 2020

F*THS (Friends that have Sex #1) by G L Thomas, Pages: 216, Publication Date: 17 February 2019

Synopsis: Anna May Cooper owned my heart. Until she did the one thing she promised she wouldn’t. She ran. I cannot live without her. But my ghosts aren’t gone either. And they have the power to destroy everything. Now I need to fight for her.

It should be Anna and me forever. But now I am not sure about the fate of us.

Synopsis: Nina Dean has arrived at her early thirties as a successful food writer with loving friends and family, plus a new home and neighbourhood. When she meets Max, a beguiling romantic hero who tells her on date one that he’s going to marry her, it feels like all is going to plan.

A new relationship couldn’t have come at a better time – her thirties have not been the liberating, uncomplicated experience she was sold. Everywhere she turns, she is reminded of time passing and opportunities dwindling. Friendships are fading, ex-boyfriends are moving on and, worse, everyone’s moving to the suburbs. There’s no solace to be found in her family, with a mum who’s caught in a baffling mid-life makeover and a beloved dad who is vanishing in slow-motion into dementia.

Dolly Alderton’s debut novel is funny and tender, filled with whip-smart observations about relationships, family, memory, and how we live now.

Synopsis: Romilly lives in a ramshackle house with her eccentric artist father and her cat, Monty. She knows little about her past – but she knows that she is loved.

When her father finds fame with a series of children’s books starring her as the main character, everything changes: exotic foods appear on the table, her father appears on TV, and strangers appear at their door, convinced the books contain a treasure hunt leading to a glittering prize.

But as time passes, Romilly’s father becomes increasingly suspicious of everything around him, until, before her eyes, he begins to disappear altogether.

In her increasingly isolated world, Romilly turns to the secrets her father has hidden in his illustrated books, realising that there is something far darker and more devastating locked within the pages…

The truth.

The Illustrated Child is the unforgettable, beguiling debut from Polly Crosby.

Synopsis: Their romance only lasted a short few months… but that was more than 100 years ago.

Ever since his fiancé, Gemma MacLugh, was killed at the hands of a dragon shifter, vampire Leif Villers has mourned his loss. Still, a part of him never gave up on her. He could hear her voice, feel her love even through the grave, relive her memories over and over until they were stripped from him.

Now Leif has discovered the final piece to bring her back from death’s clutches. He carried her brooch, never knowing it held the key to resurrecting his love.

Too bad it’s now in the hands of the formidable kraken shifter who nearly destroyed the Shifter Academy in the recent vampire/shifter war and then slithered away, never to be seen again.

Across time, powerful selkie Gemma MacLugh–a magic user who can shape-shift into a seal–should have a wonderful, comfortable existence at her home in New York in 1897. But jealous sisters target her with their cruelty, making life miserable. If not for her Grandmother and her best friend and fellow selkie, Frederick, things might have been truly unbearable.

But when a mermaid seer foretells her upcoming death and opportunity arises to leave her home and travel across the country to a boarding house in Washington, she takes it. To get away from her cruel sisters.

To escape her destiny. But is it luck or fate’s final joke when she meets a tall, dark and handsome man by the name of Leif Villers?

Their love will challenge time and death itself, but can Leif get Gemma back? Can Gemma truly escape her fate?

**Reflect is the first book in the Reclaim Trilogy within the Shifter Academy Universe written by USA Today Bestselling Authors, Jesse Booth and Joanna Reeder**

Synopsis: If Teddy’s dark secret is discovered, even her wealth and good looks won’t save her.When Asher Rose met Teddy King, he knew it’d be trouble, but it was just the kind of trouble he didn’t mind falling in. What he hadn’t planned on was falling hard for the girl no one could tame. Strap yourself in for a sexy ride fill of intensity and disaster that spirals all the way down.

Note: This is the second edition of this title. It features bonus chapters that were not featured in its first edition. It is also part one of a New Adult I/R Romance. Suggested for mature audiences due to its explicit sex and moderate drug use.

Let me know if you’ve read or reviewed any of these book, and tell me what you think of them. Or just let me know what books are on your reading list for October.

#ARC, #BookBlogger, #Books, #Bookshelf, #GoodReads, #NetGalley, #NetGalleyuk, #October2020, #October2020ReadingList, #ReadingChallenge, #ReadingList, #XpressoBookTours, #XpressoTours

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roguelioness · 8 years ago

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The Legend Of Sorcha of Asvor

This was a story I wrote for the wonderful @designfailure56, based off the original character she’d designed. It is my first time attempting a ‘fairy tale’ type story, and it was truly such a pleasure to work on it! Thank you, @designfailure56 for trusting me with your wonderful Sorcha :)

In the lands of the South, deep in Fae territory, the name of Sorcha, Goddess of all creatures is beloved, for she loves without limit all those who ask, with humility, for her guidance. But few know the story of the mortal woman she once was.

In the heart of the icy plains of the North, during a moonless night with clear skies, the stars welcomed the girl Sorcha into the world. Her mother was delighted, but her father was not; for Vegeir had always wanted a son who would continue his lineage. He all but abandoned the girl to her mother’s care, choosing instead to spend his time with tavern wenches, drowning his sorrows in drink.

Una paid little heed to his cavorting, for all she cared about in the world was her daughter. She brought Sorcha up with love, training the girl in the ways of their gods; for Clan Asvor were very different from their neighbors to the east and west. They believed themselves connected to Nature herself, and they worshipped all of Her marvels; the sun goddess Helica, the moon goddess Lunae, the goddess of the waters Aquiate, the goddess of the skies Caeluma, the goddess of the land Teriare and the goddess of the air Saelia. Una was the Head Priestess of Aquiate, and she taught Sorcha to respect all the goddesses.

The North was a land of frost, and all the clans survived through hunting and fishing. Each clan kept to themselves, having secured a piece of the North for their own. They hunted the wolves and the bears in their territory, and fished in their waters. But the clans of the East and the West grew jealous of Clan Asvor, for their waters were always abundant with fish, and their lands generous with prey.

The winter when Sorcha was a young maiden of seventeen summers was a harsh one. Una had never seen a winter so frigid, where the land turned barren, bereft of the flora and fauna that thrived despite the ice. Even their waters were not spared, the cold having driven the fish away. Una prayed to Aquiate over and over, but despite the pleas of the Priestess the goddess remained stoic.

With food in scarce supply, the clans of the East and the West turned on Clan Asvor, for they believed that it was the clan’s worship of strange gods that had caused the calamity they now faced. Many innocent lives were lost in the bitter war that was waged, and the survivors fled, boarding their caravels and taking to the sea, placing their faith in the goddesses.

They sailed for many weeks without a glimpse of land, and hope began to wane. A few turned to temper, blaming the Priestesses for having angered the goddesses; and though they were reasoned with, there still remained an uneasiness among the group. That night, a terrible storm hit the seas, and their little boat was tossed among the waves. Unable to steer through the rough weather, their caravel sank, and though a few were dragged to the fathomless bottom of the ocean, the remainder were washed up onto a strange beach.

Una and Sorcha rallied the remnants of their clan, and they ventured inwards, hoping to seek asylum from the rulers of the land. Fate, however, continued to be unkind, for they found themselves in the land of the Fae, the terrible god-Kings who ruled with an iron fist.

They first sought succour with Ambisargus, god of lightning and thunder, who demanded they swear loyalty to him, and him alone, in exchange for protection. Una, faithful only to Aquiate, refused to cast aside her beloved goddess even for the safety of her clan. They were quickly driven out of his lands, his men wielding weapons that emitted harsh sparks.

From Ambisargus they ventured into the lands of Cernunnos, god of wealth and the underworld. He offered lands of their own, if they would give to him their first-born children for five generations. This time, it was Katla, priestess to Helica, who refused, for first-born children were beloved of the sun goddess. Once again they were thrown out violently. The elderly soon fell, unable to keep up with the demands made on their bodies as they marched through the unknown landscape with minimal food and water.

Sucellus was next, the god-King of the woodlands, who leered at the women, licking his chops as though they were prey. He offered them his hospitality, promised them rooms in his own palace, so long as the women became part of his harem. Gyrid, virgin priestess of Lunae, angered the god with her fiery refusal. He had her seized, imprisoned the others, and proceeded to rape her repeatedly, throwing her - and the others - out to be hunted by his pack of vicious hunting dogs.

Weary and tired, more dead than alive, they stumbled into the lush, fertile lands of Illithor, the god of War. Terrifying to look at, with eyes that glowed and a face that bore testament to the battles he’d waged, they nearly rethought their decision to ask him for sanctuary. But the priestesses knew that they would not survive another journey, and so they swallowed their pride and begged him to let them stay, promising to work for him.

He was, at first, disinclined; after all, they were a ragged group of women with few men, and they all seemed too weak to be productive. But the God of War saw in some of the young men potential, and so agreed to let them stay in his lands, if the men would join his army, and the women would tend his fields.

This was the most agreeable offer Clan Asvor had been made, and though they were loathe to send their men into the king’s fold, they had little choice. The women settled in the midst of his vineyards, waking up early each morning to quietly pray to their goddesses before they went to the fields. It was not long before the women discovered that Una and Sorcha had a talent for wine-making. Mother and daughter would crush the ripened fruit beneath their feet, extracting the juice, then carefully ferment the juice to produce the wine that Illithor enjoyed in his palace.

Sorcha, young and strong, would deliver the wine to the palace each morning. Her face bloomed with youth, her eyes vivacious, and the little snort she made each time she laughed only served to endear her to all those who knew her. It wasn’t long before she caught the eye of the king, who soon demanded that she personally deliver the wine to the royal court. Though she feared the god, Sorcha did not dare refuse him, and so each morning she would carry a flask of the sweet wine to the court, and, kneeling at his feet as he sat on his throne, would meekly offer it to him.

Soon, even that was not enough for the young God-king, who lusted after the young brunette with eyes the color of lush grass. He began conversing with her, intending at first to gain enough of her trust to bed her; but Sorcha was wise and knowledgeable, and soon his lust deepened into admiration, until at last he decided that he wanted her by his side for all of time.

And so one evening, on the day of her twenty-first birthday, he sent his guards to bring her to the palace. She arrived, fearful and hesitant, a crown of laurel woven into her hair, wondering how she had angered the king, and what was to be of her. There he sat, on his golden throne, his crown of silver and diamond snug about his brow, his golden hair falling about his shoulders. She knelt before him as she had so often, and he rose, approaching her with solemn regality. He placed his hand on her head, and bid her to be his wife, and to rule by his side for all of time.

Sorcha, faithful to her goddess, firm in her belief that every life begins and ends when it should, viewed immortality as something that would upset the balance of nature. She pleaded with the god, trying to explain that doing so would infuriate her goddesses, and would curse her tribe.

Illithor, proud and accustomed to always having his way, was incensed. Dragging the girl by the roots of her hair, he threw her into the tallest tower of his castle, and despite her begging, and her weeping, ripped her dress to shreds and defiled the young woman. When he was done, he kept her locked up, her face tear-streaked and her thighs stained with blood and his seed. For a week she sat, naked and alone, terrified he would return to assault her, and fearful that he would not, and that she was doomed to remain in the room for the rest of her life.

The god-king returned, and demanded she submit to him, ordering her to join his side, threatening to kill those she loved if she did not obey. Sorcha, poor Sorcha, desperate to yield, yet oath-bound to her religion, refused, imploring the king to have mercy, entreating him to punish her in place of her clan. But Illithor was not called the God of War for no reason; his temper was fiery, and his pride needed to be assuaged. He had Una slaughtered, and forced Sorcha to watch as he shed her mother’s blood; and then he cursed her.

Faithful to the ocean are you, he boomed, his voice reaching the skies, and so you shall remain. Be bound to her; live you within the waves forever and alone. With his words, he had her turned into a selkie. He had his men bind her arms and legs and throw Sorcha into the sea.

But Aquiate had not forgotten her faithful devotee; she carried the young woman to the shore’s safety, and undid the chains that would have dragged Sorcha to the depths of her.

Selkie you are, the goddess said gently, but selkie you will not remain. Sorcha of the seas, seven years shall you spend with me, and seven with mine sister. Ten and five years from today, you will find your destiny.

For seven years Sorcha swam the oceans, avoiding the nets and spears of fishermen and hunters, serving Aquiate as best as she could by protecting Her creatures. She swam alone during the day, shedding her seal skin at night to sleep alone in a cave well-hidden away. And though loneliness ate at her, she bore it patiently, having full faith in the goddess’ words.

One stormy evening at the beginning of the eight year, Sorcha was fast asleep in her cave. A hunter, lost and seeking shelter, stumbled into her cave. Spotting both seal skin and young woman, he gave into his greed and took both, intending to profit from his steals. Thus Sorcha, poor Sorcha, was snatched away from Aquiate. Soon enough the hunter discovered that Sorcha was bound to obey whosoever held her seal skin. Crafty and cunning, he forced her to dance, taking her from tavern to tavern across the land until his pockets overflowed with the gold he made.

Seven years she served as the hunter’s slave, dancing for the entertainment of others, enduring groping hands and lecherous smiles. She was miserable, but she endured, hoping that Teriare had a plan for her. The fifteenth year, the hunter landed in a city belonging to king Visucius, benevolent god of hunting and healing. His officials brought him word of the hunter and his beautiful dancer, and, eager to see for himself the woman, bid the hunter to entertain him that evening.

The hunter was gleeful at the prospect of entertaining the god, for he knew that if he pleased the king he would be richly rewarded. And so he commanded Sorcha to obedience, and dressed her up in fine robes and jewelry. When she was presented to Visucius, Sorcha could not take her eyes off him, for he had the kindest smile she had ever seen.

Visucius was equally bewitched by Sorcha, and wondered why a woman as beautiful as her obeyed the commands of the hunter. He was no fool, and when he spotted the seal skin in the hunter’s hands, he guessed the truth. When the dance was over, he called the hunter over to him, and demanded to buy the skin. The hunter, afraid of angering the god with his refusal, meekly obeyed. With the seal skin now in his hand, Visucius bid Sorcha to tell her tale, and she did. The god-king, sympathetic to all she had been through, ordered the arrest of the hunter, and declared that the entirety of his wealth now belonged to Sorcha.

When asked what she would do with all the gold she had been awarded, Sorcha stated that she intended to ransom her clan who were still imprisoned by Illithor. She petitioned the God of War, and with Visucius’ influence was able to secure their freedom; the men and women of Clan Asvor were free people once more.

Visucius offered her clan lands of their own, and helped them settle in, appointing Sorcha as part of his royal court. Years later, Sorcha had a dream where the goddesses of her youth gave her the freedom to follow her destiny; and so, when Visucius asked for her hand in marriage, she gladly agreed, remaining at his side for eternity as Queen and Goddess. Together they ruled justly and fairly, beloved by their people, and their lands only saw peace and prosperity.

[Psst @designfailure56 - you should totally post your pictures of Sorcha! :)]

#Roguelioness writes #designfailure56 #Other people's OCs #Sorcha of Asvor #original work #original story #not da

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veronicatheslayer · 8 years ago

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Goin’ To The Chapel And We’re Going To Get Murdered || Ricky and Veronica

Ricky, Veronica and some members of the clergy go on a supply run.

Veronica had been stuck in the church for three days now. It had been three days since the blizzard had really picked up and right now it didn't seem to be showing any signs of stopping. People had sheltered within the church walls, which were surprisingly warm. They had a generator so when a power cut struck they were able to keep the lights on and for a while their stores of food had held out. But it had run out faster than they had expected and that was why Veronica was looking down at a rather deep snow drift several feet below her. "I'll go first," she said, looking at Ricky, Father Duffy and Sister Gretchin. They had been the ones who had volunteered to come with Ricky and her to grab supplies, and as slayers Veronica thought that they should be fine. It wasn't going to be hard, just a bit of a journey to a store, grab some food and the other essentials and then come home. "See you on the other side," she said jokingly, before dropping down into a hanging position from the balcony and crunching into the snow.

If Ricky had known he'd be sleeping in a church with a bunch of nuns he definitely wouldn't have worn a t-shirt that said "save water shower together." He'd given his sweatshirt to a kid two days ago, and as their food stores had started to dwindle, had gone the last 24 hours without eating. The church hadn't stocked much by way of meat anyway. A more pressing concern to Ricky was the madness slowly sleeping into his mind. He hadn't transformed in four days and it was catching up to him. He could see the Jeep's teal outline from the balcony and made sure his keys were in his pocket. Turning back to Father Duffy and Sister Gretchen he looked down to where Veronica had jumped. "Sister I'll jump first and catch you when you jump. You can start the car with Ms. Babineaux and then I'll stick around to make sure Father gets down okay." This was an adventure to be sure

To be quiet honest, there hadn't been much to do other than wait the snow storm out. At least that was what they had thought at first, but as it got worse and worse, Veronica begun to wonder when it would stop. Driving winds and biting cold dug into her and she couldn't help but worry that they'd run out of supplies. That was why she had volunteered for this. Though she was glad that Ricky had come with her. She was also worried about his seal business, she didn't want him to go insane. Maybe they could make a slight detour while the priests and nuns that they were bringing along with them grabbed food. "Come on down Ricky!" she shouted as she looked at around at the mounds where snowmen and snowwomen had been sculpted a few days ago.

As Ricky jumped down into snow that reached nearly to his waist he turned, holding his arms out for the Slayer Nun to leap down. As he caught her he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye but dismissed it as he rummaged through his pockets "here's the keys. Heat kicks on pretty quickly so that's a blessing." As she turned to trudge towards Veronica he saw, at least he could swear he did, one of the snowmen start to turn "V! It's been four days so I can't be sure but hostiles in the snow!" She'd know what he meant as he turned back to the balcony "Come on Father! Let's put a hustle on. I'm too pretty for the cold." He didn't like not being able to trust his eyes. He needed to know what he saw was real

Veronica waded through the snow as fast as she possibly could. She didn’t want to be out here anymore than she had to. Her skiing holidays had taught her that the cold could be a ruthless and a brutal killer. Yet as sister Gretchin reached her, she realised that the mounds that had once been covered in snow were now beginning to move. The snowmen that the children had put together a few days ago were now moving, sharp teeth formed in their mouths as they snapped hungrily. “Ricky, grab the Father and get to the Jeep! Sister, get the Jeep running, we need to get out of here.” The Church would be safe but they needed the supplies. Surging through the snow, Veronica did the only thing that she knew how to do, she kicked the head right off of the first snowman who tried to bite her.

Veronica's kick to the head of a sentient snowman was all Ricky needed to know that his eyes hadn't been deceiving him "up on my back, Father. You're too short for snow running." As soon as the priest was holding firmly to his broad shoulders Ricky charged through the snow as fast as he could, keeping an eye out for any moving mounds of snow. As soon as he'd deposited Duffy in the backseat he dove into the driver's seat and slammed into reverse, backing over a snowman trying to gnash on his fender "what the everloving....." be cut himself off before he moved himself even closer to Hell in the eyes of the church as they churned down the snowing roads "alright. That's weird right? Everyone else is on board with the vote that that's weird? Yeah? Good. Where are we going first?"

Honestly, as she knocked the snowman's head off and it kept coming at her, Veronica was now certain that she had seen it all. A few more well placed blows knocked the rest of the snowman to bits, though she couldn't help but notice the way that the snow seemed to surge together once more. That was certainly worrying to say the least. As Ricky's Jeep roared to life and he backed it into the road, Veronica decided that it wasn't time to debate this. Leaping over the back of the Jeep, she sighed as relief flooded her system. "That was very weird," Veronica confirmed as the Jeep cut through snow and sped through the deserted streets of Ashkent Creek. "Go to the general store," she said, "that will have everything we need." Though she wasn't sure that it would have exactly what they wanted, she wasn't about to take the chance and go somewhere riskier. Like near the Common, which was certain to be full of snowmen.

Ricky kept one hand on the gear shift and one hand white-knuckled on the wheel as he drove as fast as he was safely able "Swear on the sea it's you, Veronica. This stuff doesn't happen to me when I'm with other people. Most of the time. Like 80% of my supernatural involvement is with you around." He plowed through a red light, they were the only ones on the road anyway, and pulled to a screeching halt outside the General Store, looking with dismay at the once-adorable family of snowmen that had now turned fanged and bloodthirsty and were approaching the car. "Ice cold hearts, fangs, hungry for flesh." He murmured softly so only Veronica could hear "Its like looking in a damn mirror." He raised his voice "Father! There's a tire iron under your seat. I'm gonna back up and run these things over and we're all gonna make a run for it. But we saw how fast hey reformed so we're gonna have to book it. We ready?" He backed up and revved his engine charging forward again to plow through the living snow "get some!"

Raising an eyebrow as she climbed over Sister Gretchin and Father Duffy, Veronica slid into the front seat besides Ricky already cursing herself for her lack of weaponry. She had thought that the Church of Saint Iron would be the safest place for them to go. Obviously not. That was the last time she didn't bring her daggers with her. "I'd like to say that you were wrong," she replied with a shrug, "but I would be lying, I seem to attract these sorts of situations and believe me I enjoy them about as much as you do." She laughed gently, for the first time since they left the church in good humour, "you're much better looking than the snowmen," she said as he plowed through them. Leaping out of the front seat she moved to the front door of the store, rattling it. "Don't you dare kick that down Veronica," Father Duffy snapped, his voice commanding despite his small stature, "we'll go around the back, come on." Leading the way round the back of the store Veronica couldn't help but bless their luck. So far the snowmen hadn't reformed and there was an open window. "Father, I don't know what the Bible says about open windows and I don't particularly care, get in there and open the door for us, Gretchin, Ricky and I will deal with the snowmen."

Ricky almost burst out laughing at his favorite Slayer getting chastised by a tiny priest. It added to the strange and bizarre nature of the day. As they walked around the back he twirled the tire iron between his hands, breathing as evenly as he could to try to keep himself steadied and in the moment. He planted his back to the wall of the building as he waited for Duffy to get the door open, seeing the first couple of reformed snowmen rolling around the corner of the building "sooner is better than later, Father." He called out as he strode forward to meet the threat, cold steel smashing through the light snow as he attempted to break his assailant down to the smallest possible bits. Anything to give it as much trouble as possible when reforming. "There's a strange sort of sadistic delight in this I gotta admit." He called back to Veronica as he kept slashing and stomping at the snowman. "but I could probably use some help."

Veronica had to admit that she was starting to worry about Ricky. He was beginning to act odd and more odd than usual. She worried that he was neglecting his need to be a selkie and she didn't want him turning mad on her anytime soon. But it wasn't exactly a topic that they could openly discuss now. "You might as well tell him to take his time for all the good it is going to do," she said with a laugh as she saw the first snowman come around the corner, its jaw already snapping. Lunging forward for one of the snowmen, she grabbed it by the sides of its head and wrenched it off the body. Hurling it into the next snowman and knocking it over she turned and began to stomp on it as hard as possible. The snowmen were slow, really they were easy prey, but considering that they didn't stay down for very long and the fact they outnumbered them, Veronica wasn't hopeful of their chances in a prolonged battle. Watching Sister Gretchin, Veronica saw her knock snowman after snowman down. For an older lady she was surprisingly strong, though that was probably the slayer in the nun. "It is certainly a work out," she said as they were backed towards the door, a snowman lunged and Veronica knocked it away as the door swung open and Father Duffy gestured for them to join him inside. "Come on!"

The moment Father Duffy swung the door open, Ricky took one final stomp on the snowman he'd been keeping down and ran for the door, making sure Veronica and Sister Gretchin were inside before he slammed the door shut and locked it back up again. "Okay. So. We're here. Let's grab some carts and get enough food for the people back at the church. We have no idea how long we're going to be stuck there." He watched as the two clergy struck out on their mission before pulling Veronica back towards the door "you might have to leave me behind. It's getting hard to focus. Hard to do anything. I can make it back to my apartment from here but after we load the jeep up I might have to give you the keys and just go home. I've never gone this long before."

Sprinting in the store, Veronica heard a loud thump and a slight crack as a wall of snow that had once been snowmen crashed into the door. Yet despite the slightly worrying crack, everything seemed to be holding. Moving further into the store, Veronica grabbed a cart and was making her way round when Ricky pulled her over. "Is it because of your skin?" she asked, concern immediately flooding her system. "I can't just leave you to get back on your own Ricky," she said immediately discounting the idea, "and don't bother arguing because if I have to tie you up and carry you around I will." She stopped mid aisle, a bag of rice in her hand simply hovering over the cart. "How long can you last? Because once we've gotten the food back to the church I'll drive you to your apartment and then to a swimming pool or the ocean or something."

Ricky groaned in frustration as Veronica proved just as obstinate as he had feared that she would be. He listened to the thumping of snowmen against the thick door and ran fingers through cold and damp hair "yeah. It's been too long and I'm starting to see what my mom always warned me about. You absolutely can and you should. It's just a couple blocks back to my apartment and you have a church full of children to feed." He pulled down several cans of vegetables and corned beef hash as they kept making their way down the aisle "I probably can't make it another 24 hours. I know I can't. I'm starting to lose control of my senses. It's the opposite of fun by the way."

Veronica had already made a decision when Ricky started loading the cart up. "Well we had better hurry up then, because we are working against the clock and I'm not talking figuratively here." She grabbed some more canned goods and made her way to the front door. Pulling her purse out, she dropped a stack of notes on the counter and made sure Sister Gretchin and Father Duffy were ready. Grabbing some bags, she quickly loaded the food into them and grabbed her food. "Here is the plan, we make a break for it, drop you and the food back at the church and then me and Ricky are going to have to head back to his apartment to get him some medicine that he needs." She didn't leave room for questions before kicking the front door open and sprinting out of the store, the snowmen didn't notice her as she leaped into the Jeep, dropped her bags and started the engine. "Come on, get in!"

Whatever else could be said of Veronica, she was a woman of action. Ricky followed her as she charged out the door, turning just in time to see Sister Gretchen catch a mouthful of fangs to the torso. Her scream cut across the empty parking lot and Ricky turned to try to help her, only to be stopped by Father Duffy and herded towards the car "We all knew the risks. We cannot put everyone at the church at risk for one life. She took an oath to do the same if one of us fell." Ricky locked eyes with Gretchin just before she was covered by a herd of snowmen and her screams were cut short. He slammed himself into the passenger seat as Veronica started the car and peeled out, hand automatically seeking the rosary tucked against his chest. "Hail Mary full of grace the lord is with the." The words came out in a tumble as they sped back towards the church "blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Watch over our sister Gretchin as she ascends to her final rest at thy holy son's side. In the name of the father the son and the Holy Ghost. Amen." His hands shook as they drove along the road; he was getting awful tired of death.

The screams of Sister Gretchen made Veronica want to help. But she knew that there was nothing she could do, the sister was a slayer who had devoted her life to God. She would be happy that she had died helping the people in her church and yet as the red mist of blood began to envelope the snowmen who tore her apart limb from limb, Veronica couldn't help but wish that she had been able to do something. As Ricky prayed out loud, Veronica said her own silent prayer hoping that Gretchen had truly ascended to the heaven that she had told Veronica of before. She looked back at Father Duffy for a moment, tears were pouring down his face and the sight alone set her off. Fiercely wiping her own tears from her face she turned away from the father and shook her head. Slamming her foot on the pedal and driving as quickly as she could back to the church.

The ride back was fraught with emotions nobody wanted to confront or express. As Veronica plowed through the snowmen in the church courtyard Ricky gathered the bags close to him. The moment she stopped he flung himself from the car and ran the food back into the church as fast as he could. Various Sisters took the bags from him and when all the groceries had been run inside he made his way back to the Jeep and the waiting Veronica "You can stay here. It's safer. I can make it home by myself." He knew she wouldn't, or couldn't, but he felt he had to say it anyway. Something had to break the silence.

Veronica shook her head before slamming her foot on the accelerator and heading to Ricky's house.

#touchofchatzy #touchofpotw #para #p: ricky #goin' to the church and we're gonna get murdered #gore tw

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