chasingtwisters | And it's my whole heart, deemed and delivered a crime. [Open]

Entry tags:

And it's my whole heart, deemed and delivered a crime. [Open]

The closer she gets to her due date, the more obviously uncomfortable Marina becomes. Currently, she's roughly the size of a yoga ball around her stomach; she waddles like a duck whenever she has to walk anywhere, and staying upright on her own two feet feels like a task out of Greek mythology. The summer heat doesn't help, of course; it bears down on her like God's own judgement, making her skin crawl with unease and sweat both. The fear increases, too. She doesn't know how to be anyone's mother; she doesn't even know if her life is what she's thought it to be this whole time.

She doesn't like admitting that the people in this town who apparently recognize her have caused doubt to creep inside her mind. But gathered like insects, all sorts of doubts crowd in her thoughts, adding to the chaos of her overly pregnant body. She couldn't even stay in the Quill, with all of the buzzing in her head.

So she's hear on the beach, near the water. The water calls to her, like a long lost relative. She feels an unspoken pull towards it, as though she were part of the tide itself. She doesn't question it; she meanders across the shore, letting her bare feet savor the cool, salt water licking against it. Even in spite of her pregnancy and worries, she feels calmer. Less prone to bucking away from Siren Cove like a skittish colt.

She smiles, lifting her arms up to the sky in a moment of relief when she feels a sudden splash of coldness across herself. She blinks, and looks down to find that she's gotten water on herself. But how?

That's when she catches sight of her hands, and the cerulean sparks flying from them.

"What the actual fuck?" She gapes, nearly stumbling over her own to feet as she tries to make sense of what she's seeing.

[OOC: Find Moira at the edge of the water, freaking the hell out over her own magic, which she's just beginning to discover again. Her memory still isn't back yet, but she's beginning to realize that her memory is not what it ought to be. Not a bad time to meet her, actually. Open to all!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ghost Whisperer. About a woman who talks to ghosts," she explains. "Something I found randomly on a channel in Europe."

Her last question is one that Marina has been asking herself the longer she remains in Siren Cove. As much as she tries to deny how much sway the town has over her, she finds that she cannot bring herself to leave. The more she stays, the more Siren Cove feels like home. And that, above all else, freaks her out more than anything.

"I don't know," she says, turning to glance back out at the water. "I just can't seem to leave here."

"I don't watch a lot of television. I'm the bore that never managed to find the right fake story to be enchanted by. You kn- you knew that."

It's just - for such a long time Aoife has been telling herself that she didn't need Moira, could face the world with Amelie by her side and a big whatever to who else wanted to get involved with her. It wasn't like Moira wanted that anyone, Aoife was too much their mother's daughter. But now she wasn't there at all, and Aoife wanted all the things she couldn't have."

"Have you talked to others of our fam- of the Coombs family? Friends? Where are you even staying? If - If I can ask, of course."

"Ah," Marina says, like she understands. Even though she doesn't. She feels like she should, though. Especially when she gets the inkling that she really isn't much of a television person herself. She tries to shrug it off. "Well, that's fair. There's an overwhelming number of fake stories, these days." One of them her own, the traitorous part of her mind points out.

"I've met Amelie," she says. "And you. That's it for the Coombs, I think. I'm staying at the local motel. Not far from here, actually."

"The motel? You can't stay at the motel, you're a Co- the family house is quite large and much more comfortable than the motel, I am sure. And it is closer to the hospital. For your .." Aoife is going to be an aunt. It's a good thing that Amelie is around to be a proper role model. If Moira stays around, of course. If the child will be a Coombs.

"Alodia is a niece. Thomas is my little brother. There aren't.. That's it, these days. It isn't very important right now. We should you get back to yourself first." She looks away. "Sorry, that was intrusive."

"Family house?" Marina's eyebrows arch at that. So apparently the Coombs come from money. That's interesting. And convenient. Too convenient, really, but she's curious, so she listens to what Aoife has to say. "I mean, I don't know. I'm not really sure that..." Who I am, she thinks, but doesn't say.

"Back to myself? Through magic?" She ventures, at last. Ultimately, she has to admit that she does need answers. No matter how painful they may be.

"Our mans- home. It's not that big, it fitted all of us snugly. And you didn't live there. Anymore, for a long while. I mean, you left. You and mother.." How much could you tell a woman that didn't know anything? Why should she even have to know before discovering it by herself?

"You used to trust magic more than you'd-" This were familiar grounds, cutting off every other sentence when talking to her older sister. "It has to be magic that brought you in this state. Magic will undo what is done. That's how it works."

"It sounds like it's pretty big," she says, wondering, exactly, what kind of family she is meant to have come from. "So your mother. She ran away?" She tries not to say 'our.' She tries even harder not to think it.

"Okay, so we need some kind of, what memory-reversing spell?" She asks. "Could you perform one on me?"

"How do you know? Do you remember? And I don't know if you can really ..what Violet Coombs did and created is - she is not in town at the present, that is all you need to know right now. I wouldn't want to give you any more confusion."

Aoife laughs, surprised. "No, no way. That's not my magic. I could fuel someone else's spell to make it done but that's not what I do. I think Amelie's abilities lie much closer to that, but you will have to make her believe that she's a real witch first. She's still so ..well, you don't know."

"I'm not sure," she admits. "I just got the impression from what you've described. Maybe a memory? Or like, a memory of a memory? I don't know." There's so much she doesn't know. So much that she wants to know, in spite of herself the slowly dissipating idea that she isn't who Siren Cove says she is.

"Amelie is a witch who doesn't believe she's a witch?" She asks, further confused.

Good God, with every step forward it was three steps back. Aoife didn't have the patience for this. Should she call Amelie? Thomas? Poor Thomas, all his sisters bringing disaster to the family.

"Amelie thinks she's no good. Which is a lie, but when you tell someone a lie long enough she'll view it as the truth. I'm sure you -" Aoife sighs. "Can I invite you to come see the house? Maybe it will help you."

It does feel a lot like tug of war; an inch lost for every one gained. Marina can see the other girl's patience wearing thin. Her own is, too, but she would much rather avoid any kind of scene. So just nods at the suggestion.

"Sure. I'd like to see the house," she says.

"Right now? Before you disap- I an sorry. Marina is it now, isn't itt? I'm sorry, this is not in you. You appearing, looking like the sister we need right now, it is just the cherry on top of a terrible cake right now. I don't know who of why, but I would like to set lightning in the person that cursed you to this."

She thinks of Thor to reel herself back in. "Or I will just come find you at the motel you are staying at."

"Well, I'm sorry to be a bad cherry," she says. "And yes, it's Marina, although, apparently I'm supposed to be Moira. But thank you for the sentiment. I'd like to set whoever apparently stole my memories on fire myself."

"Whichever works better for you," she tells her. "I'm fairly open with my scheduling, as it were."

"You know that's not what - whatever." She barely stops herself from rolling her eyes. "Do you prefer Marina now? I tell people that my second name is my first name from time to time, so it's really not ..it's only weird for me, not for you."

"Okay. Let's go now, then. Do you have shoes with you?"

She pinches the bridge of her nose, too tired to protest. "You know what, if calling me Moira helps, by all means. Call me Moira. Hopefully, I'll figure this out sooner rather than later."

"I do have shoes," she says, reaching into the book bag she brought with her and pulling out a pair of old, comfortable sneakers, slipping them on. "I'll follow you."

"Not something you usually do, things to help me." There's just too much bile inside Aoife, too much ugly things bottled up. "Moira does, I'm sorry. Not the best relationship, Moira and I. I will try to not take it out on you."

Because what if it would drive her sister away from her again. Permanently. "Those are ..they look like they're very comfortable."

"Well, there's that to look forward to then, I suppose. Once I, or, Moira, rather, remembers," she says, shaking her head sadly. From what she understands, apparently, this Moira, who she's supposed to be, seems to have a talent for ruining lives.

"They're comfy, yeah," she nods. "I need comfy, considering how swollen my feet are."

Aoife looks down to see that - yes, they are incredibly swollen. Why do women keep putting themselves through this practice? "They are. A friend of mine recently became a parent. The baby sleeps a lot right now. I hope yours will, as well."

"Follow me." Would something happen? What if something would happen, Aoife wasn't cut out for this, she needed Amelie. The two of them could be at least some kind of help, not just Aoife by herself.

"Well, if this kid takes after anything like me, I expect a lot of long nights," she grins with a shrug. "Congrats to your friend, though! That's pretty awesome!"

"You lead the way," she says, falling into step behind Aoife. She's still not entirely sure what to make of this venture.

"That's true enough. You and Ame- do you mind it much, me reminiscing? Because I'm really not doing it on purpose, it's just ..I might not be a part of your life, but you're of mine. In a way."

She stomps the sand of her sandals as soon as they reach the boardwalk. "Are you going to need a cab?"

"No, I don't mind, honestly," she says with a wave of her hand. Even if she doesn't remember what Aoife is talking about, reminiscing seems to mean something to her.

"For the sake of expediency, probably," she says, following her example and stomping the sand off her shoes.

It's better to immediately act like she knows the meaning of that word, instead of sounding it out in her head until it sounds more familiar. "They'll be grumpy for the short ride, but just as long as they don't recognize us. Coombs is a Siren Cove name, I'm sure you have noticed that by now."

"Yeah, I did notice that, from all the odd looks and the headlines in that gossip rag of this town," she says, holding her arms around herself as she waits for a cab to approach them.

"You just didn't return at the best time. Although I'm simply glad that you did. We know better than to be bothered by what that disaster prints." That was a lie, but Aoife is trying here. And she really cares about rebuilding the family, the name will survive no matter what.

"Maybe we can even find some of your old clothes. Not that it would fit you but ..memories, possibly."

"Moira or not, I do seem to have the tendency towards arriving at just the opportune moments," she says, shaking her head. "I take it the Coombs end up in the gossip section a lot then, yes?"

"No, they definitely won't fit," Marina agrees. "But it's worth a shot, right?"

(no subject)

aoife_coombs - 2015-07-04 07:59 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only