andhiswife | You, Me, Her and Him

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You, Me, Her and Him

This, Greta thinks, is probably overdue. Jordan might not be Saoirse's age, but she's about her size, and Greta's fairly certain they'll get on. She's a little less certain about Marvin and Cu. The sheepdog has excellent manners, but there's no getting around the size disparity between him and the little terrier, and Marvin might not like it. Then again, Marvin also might not even show. She'd told Sam that Cu would be here, figuring he'd know best whether his own dog would actually enjoy tagging along.

She's also not entirely certain about the beach as a meeting place. Saoirse loves it, of course, which might be part of the problem. Even without any sign of her coat, Greta can't quite shake the fear that the seals will end up calling her into the water. It's probably paranoid, and even if it isn't, she's heard enough stories about selkies to know she doesn't want to be that person -- the one who so fears losing them that they do something awful just to keep them a little longer. But she's grown desperately fond of the girl, despite knowing what she is, and it's hard not to dread what seems like an inevitable departure.

Not that it'll be today or anything. Jordan and Sam will be distracting enough that Saoirse won't even be tempted to look too long at the waterline, probably.

She's rather looking forward to seeing them, with or without Marvin in tow. They'd checked in during the attack of all those awful little toys, so she'd known they were all right (and vice versa). But it's still reassuring to actually see them, happy and in one piece. If she's being entirely honest with herself, part of the reason she arranged this playdate is so she'd have an excuse to spend time with them without seeming... fretful. Or needy. Or other things she generally isn't.

The private insistence that this isn't all about her might be what prompts her to look down at Saoirse and ask, "Are you excited to meet Sam and Jordan?" They've only just arrived at the beach, and she hasn't spotted the pair yet, but she expects they'll find them soon enough.

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Saoirse reaches for the ball even as Greta lifts her, and she pouts a little. The seals immediately duck back beneath the surf when Sam enters the water. If they surface elsewhere, it isn't within eyeshot. Cu woofs and dances around Greta's legs. Saoirse giggles silently when Cu tugs on her wet pantleg, and she leans her head on Greta's shoulder, evidently assuaged, while she watches Sam fetch her football.

It is on the cold side, but Sam isn't overly bothered by that, nor does he have to wade too far after the soccer ball. His jeans will be wet, but he ought to have expected as much, really, and at least it's only to his knees or so. Any farther out and he'd still have gone for it anyway, but he knows full well that wet denim won't dry easily, and he's privately a little grateful that he can grab the ball before he winds up having to sit around in soaking wet jeans all day.

With Jordan at the shore, toes just at the edge of the water, Sam smiles, holding the ball up as he returns to the rest of the group. "Mission accomplished," he calls, making sure he's fully clear of the pull of the waves, tromping back up to drier sand, before he sets the ball down again. "Though I don't know whose point that would be. I think this game works better on land."

She doesn't know if Sam noticed the seals or not. It doesn't seem as if he's noticed her behavior, or thinks it odd, which was her biggest non-seal-related worry. She relaxes, giving him a grateful smile as he slogs out of the water. It turns a little amused and a little sheepish as she takes in his jeans, which probably won't dry off anytime soon. Poor man. This must be what 'taking one for the team' means. "I think you ought to get that point," she says. "You've earned it."

She turns her back to the waves and presses a kiss to Saoirse's forehead. "One of these days," she says wryly, "we'll manage a trip to the beach where we don't end up soaked." At least, not by accident. She sets the girl down so Cu can sniff her over, then crouches beside her. "Did you bring extra trousers?"

Saoirse considers, then rummages into her bag so she can check. She has extra socks and trainers, at least, so she pulls those out, since her feet are starting to feel cramped and squishy in her drenched ones. There aren't any trousers, though.

As she rummages, her shell tumbles out onto the sand, but her focus is primarily on her socks and shoes. She plops her butt onto the and and starts to try to tug her shoes off, frowning in both concentration and effort.

"Yeah? I won't argue with that," Sam says of the point, though he's laughing as he does. Jordan, still mercifully dry, has taken up the soccer ball where he's set it down, kicking it a short distance and running after it only to repeat the same again. He suspects this may become a trend, that he's very likely to wind up having to get her a soccer ball of her own in the very near future. As long as nothing winds up broken — though he's sure at least one thing will wind up broken, and he won't care half as much as he probably should — he can't object on that front.

He glances at Saoirse, and his smile grows a little amused, a little self-deprecating. "You know, I think you might be onto something there," he says, crouching so he can start taking off his own shoes. It won't help much when his feet will just wind up covered in sand instead, but still, he'd rather not stay in wet socks if he can help it.

"Whoops," Greta says when the shell tumbles onto the sand. It's probably fine -- a shell ought to be perfectly at home on a beach -- but knowing that it's a musical instrument makes her cringe a little at the thought of it being on the ground. With Saoirse and Sam both occupied, she leaves off removing her own shoes in favor of picking up the shell and brushing off the clumped sand that's stuck to it.

Jordan abandons the soccer ball and trots back over to them, eyes wide. "What's that?" she asks, pointing to the shell.

"This is a very special shell that belongs to Saoirse," Greta explains, angling it so Jordan can see the little holes that have been drilled into it. "She can make music with it." It's not all that she can make, and for that reason, Greta doesn't presume to offer any demonstrations on Saoirse's behalf. The fairy lights are harmless, but that doesn't mean Saoirse will want to show them off. Before she even arranged this playdate, she'd assured the girl that she wouldn't tell Sam and Jordan about her magic unless she wanted her to, and she has no intention of breaking that promise. "Maybe she could show you later," she says, leaving it up to Saoirse to disagree -- or not. If Saoirse decides she'd rather stick it back in her bag and go back to kicking the ball around, she suspects Jordan would forget about it before too long.

Saoirse watches, for a moment wondering if Jordan will try to play it. One of her socks is half off, fabric rolling up on itself on its way down her wet foot. The other is a soggy ball on the sand already. When she hears Greta, she perks and nods. Yes, she'll play later! But first, she wants to keep playing football.

Her sock goes flying as it finally lets go of her toes. Cu chases after it, and brings back a small hunk of wood, instead. Saoirse giggles, pushing her windblown hair out of her face.

Sam can't help but laugh at the way Saoirse's sock goes flying, already heading in its direction when he sees the piece of wood Cu is carrying back in the sock's stead. It isn't like it's gone as far as all that, and anyway, he's used to playing with Jordan, and the frequency with which that involves having to retrieve various items when they inevitably get out of her control. This is just to be expected, and at least this time, he doesn't have to wade out into the ocean to retrieve the soccer ball, willing as he'd been to do so.

"I think this might be yours," he says, teasing, as he holds the sock out to Saoirse. "And that's a very nice shell. I'm sure Jordan would love to hear you play."

She grins when Sam fetches the sock back. Even though there was no reason to believe otherwise, it's still a relief to find him as good with Saoirse as he is with his own daughter. Cu drops the piece of wood in Greta's lap, and she picks it up and waggles it enticingly before throwing it for him.

Saoirse seems keen enough on the idea of playing her shell, but she doesn't reach for the shell or otherwise indicate that she's ready to do it right now. Putting it off just a little might be for the best; it would allow her to at least give Sam a little warning about the fairy lights. They're perfectly harmless, but she still wouldn't want to spring them on him.

"Maybe after you're done kicking the ball around, hm?" she asks, brushing Saoirse's hair back. "How does that sound?" Then, lowering her voice a little, she asks, "Do you mind if I tell him about you? It might make things a bit less startling."

Sam can undoubtedly hear every word, but it would be just as obvious that something was up if she drew Saoirse aside to speak to her in private. Regardless, she hasn't given anything away, and she won't if Saoirse doesn't want her to.

Saoirse likes Sam a lot, she decides. He's nice, and he doesn't treat her like a little kid, and she likes his smile. She pulls her wet sock close and unrolls it, draping it over her wet shoes with the other one. She wants to keep them all together and give the sun a chance to dry them out while they're playing.

When Greta asks her about her secret, about sharing it with Sam and Jordan, she looks up at her. She smiles small, then nods. Yes, that's fine with her. She wants to keep playing, first, though!

Jordan, distracted with kicking — and nearly tripping over — the soccer ball, doesn't seem to hear what's been said, but Sam doesn't miss it. For the moment, though, he does his best not to let his expression betray as much. He hasn't got a clue what about you might mean, but judging by Saoirse's reaction, he will soon enough; there's no reason to pry. Even if she'd decided otherwise, it wouldn't be his place to interfere. He might have asked Greta later what her question was about, but he wouldn't have expected an answer in any kind of detail. Saoirse has only just met him and Jordan, after all, and he knows how children can be. He also knows from Jordan's own occasional bouts of being temperamental that it's important to earn their trust rather than dismissing them. Whatever there is to find out or not, that's her decision to make.

"Are you ready yet?" Jordan asks abruptly, breathless and grinning as she makes her way back over to the others. Sam, both surprised and not, lets out a laugh, reaching down to ruffle her hair.

"Be patient for just another minute, okay?" She huffs out a sigh in response, but seems to be alright enough with that for the moment. It gives Sam a moment to glance down at Greta, brow arching, a silent question.

Greta notes that questioning look, and lifts a hand in appeasement. It seems most sensible to just tell Sam, first. Whether he wants Jordan to know about fairy lights and selkies is up to him; for all she knows, he's trying to shield her from as many of Darrow's oddities as he can. Saoirse's magic might be harmless, but the Village was never short on parents who didn't want their children mixed up with anything magic-related. All things considered, she couldn't really blame them.

Once Saoirse seems to have herself situated, Greta straightens. "Right, off with you," she says, watching with a fond smile as the two get back to kicking the ball around (this time moving away from the waterline).

She waits until they're out of earshot, then falls in next to Sam. "Saoirse is..." she almost says 'not quite human,' but that, she thinks, would be doing the girl a disservice. 'Not quite' is too close to 'less than,' and she's a child. Besides, if Sam's to find out anyway, she's not sure there's any point in trying to approach the subject delicately. He's not from the Village.

"Well," she says, glancing up at him, "have you ever heard of selkies? Do they have stories about them, where you're from?"

Saoirse is only half-listening to Greta while she and Jordan go back to playing with the football. Cu is bouncing around with them, trying to paw at it occasionally. Saoirse's breath is coming a little louder as she laughs while she runs, and although she slips on the sand occasionally, she doesn't tumble or fall.

It's something Sam has gotten used to, half-keeping an eye on Jordan while doing something else, his daughter always in his peripheral vision but his focus elsewhere. He's pretty sure, in fact, that it's a necessary skill, but it's a useful one, too. If not for that, he'd never be able to get half as much work done, or bring her with him when he runs any errands, or stop to have a conversation with anyone. Besides, right now, he's hardly worried. With the number of them here, people and dogs alike, it seems unlikely that he would miss any indication of trouble. So he listens carefully to Greta as she speaks, Jordan appeased by finally being able to get back to playing, and nods slowly in response to her question.

"They do," he says, his expression turning a bit sheepish then, "though I'd be lying if I said I remembered much of anything about them." It's just not the sort of thing he'd ever paid that much attention to. He wouldn't have thought he would need to, though he wishes now that he had a few details he could fall back on. "Is she..."

"Yes," Greta confirms with a little nod. "Her coat isn't here, though. That's why she can't speak." Or turn into a seal and disappear into the ocean forever, but Greta's not exactly distraught about that part.

"She still does have a bit of magic about her, though." This isn't home, where such a thing would be admitted in hushed tones, and Greta makes an effort -- for Saoirse's sake -- to sound casual. It helps that her magic really does seem harmless. "When she plays her shell, these little fairy lights appear. They don't really seem to do much but look pretty, but they're a bit of a shock if you're not expecting them."

Greta hesitates for a beat, then decides she has to at least touch on the seals. If they do this again, especially once the weather warms, he and Jordan are bound to notice, anyway. "And there are the seals. They seem drawn to her, and she to them, especially if she gets close to the water." She scrapes her hair back, frowning a little in spite of herself. "She knows it's too cold for swimming, but..." she lets out a breath and shrugs uneasily.

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You, Me, Her and Him

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