Part of my series of (hopefully) unexpected crossovers. This is another crossover that felt so natural to write, since these fandoms have a lot in common. Eva Green, the actress who played Miss Peregrine to such perfection, has more than once described her as "Scary Poppins." This story is movie-verse for both for fandoms, not book-verse.

-x-

It was a quiet morning in the Victoria Embankment, and nobody was nearby to see when a tall, raven-haired woman emerged from behind a thick clump of bushes — the same bushes where a falcon had dived just a few minutes earlier. Alma Peregrine was quite good at transforming from a falcon to a woman in public without drawing attention. Even in a bustling city like London, she could always find some secluded spot where no one would notice.

She took a moment to smooth her hair — though not a strand was out-of-place, of course — then lifted the edge of the cloak that she'd worn for the journey, stepped across the grass to the gravel path, and started on her way. Mary Poppins, Alma's oldest friend from the Ymbryne Academy, had just finished up another job as a nanny for a family in Kensington — the Banks, their name was — and she and Alma had written each other and arranged to meet at a spot near here.

Alma's heels were brisk as she walked the busy London streets, not pausing to look at any of the grand buildings or monuments around her. She didn't care for the city — so noisy and crowded, so different from her sleepy little village back in Cairnholm — but she knew that her children would be wild with excitement to see it, and she felt a bit guilty for leaving them at home, where another ymbryne was looking after them until she returned. Perhaps she would buy some trinkets from a souvenir shop for them before she left.

There was quite a lot of commotion on Downing Street when she passed it, but Alma smiled and nodded approvingly when she saw that it was a group of women suffragettes throwing spoiled eggs at the prime minister.

She spotted Mary Poppins as soon as she turned the corner onto Horse Guards Road. Her rosy cheeks and the bright red cherries on her hat stood out against the gray streets and overcast sky — but of course, Mary always stood out, no matter where she was or how she dressed. She spotted Alma too, and smiled and waved to her. As ymbrynes, they were hardly about to hug each other — Alma was only ever affectionate with her children — but their greeting was warm nevertheless.

"It's nice to see you again, Alma," Mary said, smiling. "Come, we can catch up in the park." She took her arm and steered her into St. James's Park, and Alma let her, glad to be away from the horse-drawn traffic and street peddlers.

"There now, that's better," Mary said, as they approached the lake and the city noise died away behind them. "I do love London, but sometimes it gets to be such a din, one can hardly hear oneself think."

"Indeed," Alma agreed, matching her friend's brisk pace. Like all ymbrynes, even when they were in human form, they moved much like birds, always quick and sharp. "Perhaps the next time we rendez-vous, you'll come visit me on Cairnholm."

Mary smiled indulgently, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, I know Cairnholm is a lovely island, but I find traveling through space a very old-fashioned idea."

An ymbryne never faltered in her stride, but Alma nearly did at this bit of news. Traveling through space? "Mary... you don't mean that you're still traveling through time?"

"Mm-hm, only a fortnight ago, I found a time-loop that led to the year 2012. Think of that, Alma!"

Alma pursed her lips disapprovingly, but Mary didn't even notice. She watched another pair of ladies stroll past them in long, full-skirted dresses and wide-brimmed hats, then moved closer and went on in a conspiratory whisper, "In 2012, I saw a group of young people leaving a nightclub near here wearing next to nothing, and they were all talking on telephones that they carried in their hands. It was really quite—"

"Mary," Alma interrupted sternly, "you know the loops aren't meant to be used for one's own amusement." Of course, Alma had used a time-loop herself to get here, traveling back from 1943 to 1910, but that was a different matter entirely. She'd come here on business, for a meeting with Miss Avocet and some other ymbrynes; she would never leave her children for anything less.

But Mary never let herself be put off by anyone's disapproval, and she just chuckled softly. "Oh, Alma," she sighed, "are you never curious to know what the future holds?"

Alma drew her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders. "I simply feel it's my duty to enjoy living in the here-and-now," she answered automatically, repeating one of the lines that she gave her children whenever they asked her questions about the future. But in a way, it was comforting to know that Mary had traveled to the future and seen London as a place where people enjoyed themselves again. It had occurred to her that she probably disliked the city because in her time, it was still just a shell of its former self, struggling to recover from the Blitz. She'd seen so much ruin and wreckage before she stepped through the loop back into the simpler world of 1910.

Mary was silent for a moment, then ventured, "And you never want more from life, I suppose, than caring for children?"

But Alma wasn't so quick to reply this time. As their path through the park moved from sunlight into dappled shade, she thought over how to answer. Alma hated to admit it, even to herself, but there were occasional days when her children exhausted her, occasional moments when she yearned for a fancy-free life like Mary's. Eleven children were a lot for one ymbryne, even an ymbryne as capable as she. But Alma would never breathe one word of that aloud, for she knew that it was not an ymbryne's place to complain about her brood. She had been taught from a very young age that her only purpose in life was to care for peculiar children, that she must think only of them and never of herself — and Alma had taken those lessons deep into her bones.

But those same lessons had run off Mary like water off a duck. Never had the Ymbryne Academy produced such a wayward pupil — flittering off to the future or past whenever the wind changed, working as a nanny for children who weren't even peculiar. "Disgraceful," Miss Avocet always said whenever Mary's name came up, and the other ymbrynes would sniff disdainfully. But Alma had always admired Mary for being so rebellious, though she would never say that aloud, either.

Besides, she knew that her friend's carefree lifestyle came at a steep price. Mary had to say goodbye to the children in her care so often. Sometimes, she would find them again years later, when they were all grown up, and she would work as a nanny for their children. But sometimes, she never saw her charges again. Alma almost couldn't breathe at the thought of it. She had been caring for the same children for decades, and being away from them even for this trip was hard for her. What were they all doing right now, back in Cairnholm?

Mary's brisk pace slowed as they approached an old woman on a park bench. She was selling birdseed — tuppence a bag — to feed the pigeons gathered on the grass around her. Two little boys with a penny each had bought a bag from her to share, and their little faces lit up with delight as the pigeons pecked at the seeds on the ground. Mary said nothing, but Alma saw her eyes linger on the sight as they passed by. She wondered how many of the birds filling the skies overhead today were other ymbrynes on their way to the meeting, too.

Alma noticed then that Mary was carrying her parrot-head umbrella under one arm. Mary always carried that umbrella because she was a parrot herself in bird-form, just as Alma was a falcon — a parrot with the most vibrant blue and yellow plumage, for even as a bird, Mary stood out. But she rarely took her bird-form anymore and had dropped it from her name completely.

The parrot-head umbrella must have found Alma's gaze reproachful, because he twisted his head on the umbrella handle to face her and said, "Well, don't look at me. I can't do anything to keep her in line."

"What? Me needing to be kept in line?" Mary had put on a haughty, offended voice, but her red lips went up in a pleased smirk. "How dare you suggest such a thing." She tapped the parrot on its beak with one finger. "That will be quite enough of that, thank you. Now Alma, how much longer before you have to be at the ymbryne meeting?"

Alma drew her pocket-watch from her breast pocket and clicked it open, even though she didn't need to look at it to know the time. "Fifty-six minutes. We're meeting at the Albert Hall, you know."

"Very good. Ymbryne meetings are always such a dull business, aren't they? But I think you should have a bit of fun as long as you're here in London." Mary picked up her pace as a mischievous smile spread on her face. "I know just the thing. I'll introduce you to my friend Bert. He's working as a balloon peddler in Green Park today, I think..."

Alma could tell from Mary's tone that she had some sort of outlandish adventure in mind for them, but she said nothing, only smiled and let Mary take her arm and steer her along again. It would be useless to protest. After all, she knew quite well that whenever one was with Mary Poppins, soon the most unusual things began to happen...