chasingtwisters | 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!]

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"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?"

"Only in The Cove, other media outlets know their place and their history. It almost makes me wonder if The Cove is supported by the Thornton family, always having it out for those that don't fit their narrow idea of normal."

The cab driver recognises them, it's clear in his glance up and down Moira's body. Maybe that's why he accepts the fare, even though it is such a short drive. "You go sit in front."

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

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