Though Marcus isn't really keen on leaving Esca alone with the townspeople, pointing and staring as though the two of them are carnival oddities, he knows that having him around while Placidus checks and marks up his catch would be even worse. That man has a cruelty not to be taken lightly. So he asks the boy to wait for him out front of the market while he takes the crates of salmon round back.
Esca's stare is eerily vacant when he turns at the sound of Marcus' voice, but still he nods his head and leans up against the hood of the truck when the both of them climb out. Marcus wishes the circumstances were different, wishes he could have thought of something to do when the fisheries came aboard, but the time for that has passed and now he is just trying to do the best that he can with the situation that's been given.
When he walks through the loading bay doors he can already tell by the look on Placidus' face that he's heard the commotion around town, maybe even gone out front and taken a look at Esca through the windows of the market. Marcus slows his steps, trying to mentally prepare himself for whatever might come, because he knows that if anyone's going to have something to say about it, it's going to be Placidus.
There is only silence between them while Marcus hauls in the first two or three crates, like the calm before the storm, and it has his nerves frayed and on edge. For a moment he convinces himself that the sour man isn't going to say anything, perhaps rendered speechless by shock or just too tired to squabble for once. But as he's bringing in the last batch, waiting for his slip to be filled, the inevitable quips come. "So, where's he sleep then? Your water baby?" There is so much implied in that question that is left unsaid, communicated through the snide tone, the huff of derision, the slight snarl of disgust that twists his face.
Marcus doesn't deign to give an answer, hoping to just get out of here before he does something that he knows he'll regret. He knows that under stressful situations his emotions tend to lash out, swinging in wildly different directions. Sometimes he gets physical, sometimes he drinks himself to oblivion, and one time he even walked into the sea. Unlike Esca the cold had shocked his senses and made him wade back to shore, but for a moment the question as to why the boy was there in the first place didn't seem so mysterious.
"The two of you gonna go diving for pearls eh?" Placidus makes an ugly snort at his own joke as he tears the form from his pad, but holds it back from Marcus' outstretched and expectant hand. "What kind of stories have you been spinning Circus?" Marcus rips the slip from his hand and gets out of the place as fast as he can without actually looking like he's running. Esca is still out there waiting, looking a bit more in control than he was before though it takes a second to grab his attention.
"Can I-uh… Can I buy you something? A gift- to apologize for getting you discovered?" Marcus still felt a little guilty about the relief that coursed through his veins when Esca was finally found out, and he hopes that the other man could sense that.
Esca only shrugs his shoulders in response, but there's a skip to his step when he pushes off from the truck and starts heading down the street, taking off in a random direction and peering at the window displays of all the various shops. Marcus hurriedly shucks the grimier layers of his clothing and throws them into the truck bed before trotting down the sidewalk to keep up with the other boy. They wander in silence for a small while, enjoying each other's' company without needing words. Eventually Esca finds his way into an antique shop of sorts, wandering through the displays all arranged by color.
There's knick-knacks of all sorts, from furniture to kitchen equipment, from yard decorations to vintage cameras and typewriters. He seems to be utterly fascinated by nearly every object his fingers slide over, a kind of awe coloring each of his movements. Marcus thinks they might be in there for hours, spend the whole afternoon bathed in a foreign sense of nostalgia, but he finds it strange to discover that he really doesn't mind. He'd never been one for spending his days at the shops, but seeing the wonder in Esca's eyes makes it all worth it to him.
When they reach the last section, an assortment of things white and grey, Esca stops in front of a weathered and wobbly vanity, the edges of its paint turned copper with age. His fingers slowly slide over the surface of it, catching on the knots of the wood, and for a moment Marcus thinks that this might be what he's set his eye on.
But then he pulls forward a small box that had been tucked away behind a rack of earrings and necklaces. It's a muted blue-grey, an ornate iron clasp set into the face and a simple seashell carved into its lid. Esca carefully lifts it and turns it over and over in his hands, noting the small hole in the back and the key tied round one of its legs, making it a music box. Throwing an excited glance Marcus' way, he fits the key in its slot and winds the gears three times before pulling it out, and with only a slight stutter of anticipation lifts the lid.
But no song comes out.
A small brass bird sits in the center of the wood, raised up on a pedestal and Esca's fingers caress its small face with a surprising amount of tenderness. Disappointment is clear on his face for a few seconds, but calmly he closes it back up and tucks it under his arm with a small smile. He walks over to Marcus with a bashful look in his eye and gestures to the little treasure. "Might I…?" He trails off as he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, and plays with the hem of his shirt.
Marcus feels as though he might be a little too pleased with the fact that he gets to buy the boy a present, but doesn't think on it as he throws an arm around Esca's shoulders and leads him over to the cash register.
You are swimming laps, out to the diving platform and back, when you hear the tell-tale clatter of rocks that means someone is coming down the shore. But these steps are different- not the lumbering footfalls that usually accompany Marcus, and so instead of completely resurfacing the next time that your surge out of the water to complete a butterfly stroke, you only allow the top of your head to break through, breathing through your nose while your mouth is still below. You wipe the water from your eyes as a self-assured looking woman stops just before the spot where waves touch the shore. She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head minutely. "Curiouser and curiouser…"
You can't help yourself as your interest in her outweighs the inherent fear of being seen, so you stand so that your shoulders are exposed, allowing you to talk. "What's that?"
"What Alice said to the White Rabbit." The lady says it as though it is common information, and you wonder whether this is really another commonplace thing that you have forgotten or if she fancies herself smarter than you. From the way that she arches her brow and taps her foot at your delay in response, it is probably the latter, but you don't voice that opinion.
"Come again…"
She only acts a little irritated as she slows down her speech and leans forward as though you are hard of hearing. "Curiouser and…."
"Curiouser." You finish, liking the way that word tastes on your tongue.
She smirks as she repositions the weight of her hips and bends a knee, appearing to make herself more comfortable. "Marcus is such a terrible liar. That story he told me was crap, and once the townsfolk started gossiping… I knew you were real."
"I was real?" This woman- something about her puts you at ease, but that in turn makes you uncomfortable and you haven't quite decided how to deal with that yet.
"Yes. I knew it wasn't a story." She puts her tongue in her cheek and shakes her head again, turning away from you for just a second to look back at the hill, you think to make sure that the two of you are alone.
"What wasn't a story?" Now you are thoroughly confused, and feeling a bit vulnerable in the water, you start to wade back on shore, taking it slow and keeping a wary eye on the woman. The grey pants that you wore in the water stick tight to your skin and shimmer with the sun that so rarely peeks out here, but you don't move to peel them away.
"The fisherman, the boy in the net- Marcus told me a story about you." It hadn't registered the first time, but now that she's mentioned it again, you realize that she knows Marcus, seems to be friendly with him. You don't know whether that's a good or a bad thing yet though. Still, if she is a friend to him, you don't want to be off-putting or offensive. She could mean something to him. "So… do you have magic powers?" She manages to sound like she's making fun of him, but genuinely interested at the same time.
"Do you?" You finally break the water completely and as you come near her, you give her a bit of a berth, circling as you walk by to make sure that you can still see here, even if you have to have your back to the hill.
"You already know that I don't!" She scoffs and turns with you, stepping forward to keep you within arm's reach.
"What's your name?" You think that maybe, with a name, she wouldn't seem so ominous, as overwhelmingly ahead of the game as she does now.
"Cottia." Is all she offers you, but there's a hint of sweetness underneath it.
Slowly, carefully, you extend your hand. "I'm Esca."
She takes your hand, but instead of shaking it, begins to trace your slender fingers, holding your palm up to the light and twisting your arm this way and that. A small smile slips over her lips at the way your face scrunches up in confusion and she leans towards you to whisper conspiratorially. "I'm examining you for webbed appendages."
"Well?" She releases your hand, but continues to stare. "Do I disappoint you?"
She ignores you as you start walking backwards again, "You got lost did you?"
You're not sure why, but your heart begins to beat a little faster at this and you pick up a little speed, suddenly desperate to get back into the shack that is now starting to feel like home. "Yes, I suppose I did get lost."
"Are you cold?" Her tone is friendly, but there's this gleam in her eyes that's a bit too clever for your liking.
"Yes. Suddenly." You give up the ghost and turn, basically fleeing towards the house.
"That's because you're on land now. Your natural habitat is in the water you see." This time there is nothing but seriousness in her voice and you find it disconcerting.
"You seem to know a lot about me." You say this to further the conversation without actually admitting to anything.
"Yes, well…. I read."
You try to keep up some semblance of calm, even though your voice is a bit thin with panic. "Would you like to come inside?" You feel much safer inside the shack's familiar confines- no longer in the open- but you don't yet have a valid excuse for being such a recluse.
She quirks her lips and goes back to her playful-almost serious voice. "I can't walk across the threshold or you'll put a hex on me."
"What's a hex?" You haven't decided if you like her moxie or not but she's definitely caught your interest.
"It's bad news- a hex." She waits by the porch as you walk inside, pushing aside the bead curtain that you have now let down, and grabbing the towel that you left on the bed. "Maybe underwater feels better…"
She waits for some sort of answer, but you stay behind the beads, liking the veil that it puts between you two. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
"Oh come on. Let's not try and fool each other. We both know the truth-" You can't tell if this is her actual serious tone or her teasing one again and you feel a bit sick. "Aaand if we can't be straightforward then there's no point in us being friends."
This lifts a bit of a weight off your chest and you come out from behind the curtain, moving to sit on the porch so that your legs dangle off the sides. It's still a bit of a risk, but you want to trust this woman, so you take it. "So… we'd be friends then?"
"We could be- if we play our cards right." Her smile is a bit like a shark at that, but she tones it down after seeing the way that it makes you stiffen. "Does it feel better in that home of yours? Under the waves I mean." She makes a dismissive wave at the house behind you.
You hesitate a bit, because you want to be honest, but you don't know what to say. "Well… it… It definitely feels different." You rub the towel at the back of your head and look out over the waters, knowing that things always seem so much clearer when you are out there.
"Well, I know that you don't talk down there- you sing." She smiles at this, as though she has some kind of private joke and you find it a bit endearing.
"Yes." You try your own hand at nonchalant, rubbing at the material that still sticks tight to your legs, hoping to soak up a bit of the water. "Singing carries better underwater."
"And what about the cold?"
You sniff and shake your head at her. "You get used to it." You make to stand, the towel now just as damp as your clothing and completely ineffectual.
"Well of course, you have your seal coat." She still seems matter-of-factual about all of this and it has you confused as to whether you are playing some kind of game.
"My seal coat?"
"Look, there's no point in beating around the bush. I do know these things, I've been studying them my whole life." At this she looks a bit exasperated and it causes you to falter.
"So… tell me about my seal coat. I don't know if Marcus let you in on all the details, but I've forgotten many things." You stand, lean against the door frame and focus your attention solely on her.
She waits a moment to see if you're serious, but when you wait patiently she takes a deep breath and starts in. "You lose it when you get out of the water, and you can't go back in until you find it…. but if you do find it, and bury it on land, you can stay for seven years…. and you cry seven tears. But then, when the crying's done, your kind of folk can often find unexpected happiness with a landsman…. Selkie people often find unexpected happiness with a landsman."
Her voice trails off several times throughout the explanation, and by the end of it she has this wistful, far off look that has you sympathizing with her. She's looking at the ground, hip cocked, picking at her nails and for once, she is quiet. After the silence sticks for a while, and starts to get heavy she looks back up at you and finishes with a quiet, "That's all I know." It is all very sad, and you pull yourself up from the frame as she turns to walk away, throwing her hair down around her shoulders and hiding her face behind it. "People will be wondering where I've gotten off to." Her voice is a bit rough now, none of that pride strengthening it as it did before.
You walk to the edge of the porch, but don't go any further, and quietly call out, "See you again…" but it comes out almost as a question. She stops, turns to look and you, and points.
"Is that one of your tears?" The question shocks you a bit, and you reach up a lightly quivering hand to wipe at your cheek.
It comes away wet and you can't help but just stare at it for a moment. "Maybe." Your voice cracks a bit as you try to make it project across the distance between you.
She gives you a not-quite smile as she turns to head back again. "You've only six left…."
With Marcus' permission you no longer are hesitant to change things around the house, and so you set about washing and changing the bedding, switching the long dead-and-gone flowers in the pots on the porch for fresh, wild ones that you picked this morning, and filling empty spaces with bowls that you have put treasures from the sea in. You don't know why you collect the myriad smooth stones, broken shells, bits of sea glass, and different colored sands, but it's like a compulsion that you just can't help, and you like having pieces of the water here with you.
Ever since that strange interaction with Cottia, you've been thinking, you can't help it. And you find yourself noticing all the strange things that you did before, that didn't seem odd until just now. Like how you found a stray bit of fishing net and pulled it down over your arm, spending nearly an hour spreading your fingers and twisting your forearm, fascinated by the way it formed around your hand, or how you sing all the time, but only know the one song, in a language you don't understand and can't describe.
To distract yourself from the somber thoughts, you try on all the clothes that Marcus bought for you in several different combinations, fiddle with the small music box he got you, humming the tune you know to yourself regardless, and thinking maybe if you can get it to work you'll finally know another melody. Eventually you find yourself wondering what he's doing now. You wonder if he's thinking about you too, if he'll come and take you fishing again tomorrow. For the first time since you re-awoke, since you claimed this new life, you are hit with the fact that before this afternoon, Marcus was the only person in the whole world that you knew and he was the only person that even knew you existed. The realization sends a chill down your spine, but you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.
