CHAPTER ONE
birdhouse in your soul

                           𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

  A GALE THRASHES THE DESERTED shores of Lewis, waves thundering down onto the sandy beaches relentlessly. Lightning strikes across the tempestuous width of the sky, a single flash of light to brighten up the miserable darkness. The air is thick with the smell of rain dampening the seaweed, that saccharine petrichor upon the sand drowned out by the overwhelming static of the storm. A spray of saltwater beads against the window pane from a particularly colossal wave, mingling with the raindrops as they batter the glass. A sudden thunderbolt rumbles overhead to dramatise the downpour just as it begins to calm down.

Cove watches from where she's perched on the windowsill, biting her nails nervously. She catches sight of a figure twisting from the surface in choreographed flips which are similar to that of a porpoise, the man's skin glowing furiously blue in the darkness. His presence above the surface causes another violent slash of lightning, the rain picking up at his command.

  The storm kelpies are beginning to grow bolder, drawing closer to the shore and straying into selkie territory more frequently. Usually, they would leave with bleeding wounds and prominent bite marks, the seal folk remaining unharmed, but it's becoming increasingly common to see selkies with puncture marks from spears or fractures in their flippers. Due to the bloody Blue Men of the Minch and their overconfidence, Lenore has forbidden her from going in the waters unless the coast is completely clear or it's an emergency, wary of the dangers that lurk beneath the surface. She's beginning to lose her mind knowing that she can't do anything to help. Lingering indoors is doing her head in as well, what with the constant thunderstorms forbidding her from going outside.

She sighs heartily, head thunking against the glass. The holiday has been lonely for her, with a strict curfew from the waters and Cordelia off getting cosy with her cousin, Finlay — she tries her hardest to feel happy for them, but the only thing she feels is bitter considering that she's trapped indoors whilst they're making memories in the sea. Don't get her wrong, Cove is definitely rooting for them, but she's just incredibly salty that their freedom runs wild whilst hers can only roll over in its grave. It's just not fair.

  Her shoulders slump miserably as her mind begins to wander, drifting to cheerier thoughts of Remus. She can only hope that he comes to rescue her from the miserable weather soon.

With her eyes screwed shut in exhaustion, she doesn't quite register the woman meandering up to her side, an absent aura fogging up her consciousness — she's shell of a person, her dark eyes cloudy and her expression passive.

"There's something wrong. Isn't there?"

Cove looks up in surprise, her sleepy eyes widening when she processes who it is that's speaking to her. Her mouth runs dry as pure shock electrifies her.

"Mum—"

Mairi stands next to her silently, peering out the window as the foamy waves tumble towards the shore. The bags under her eyes are beginning to dig even deeper, forming purple craters that taint her otherwise perfect face. Another one of the storm kelpies rises from the surface and realisation courses through her face, her chapped lips parting in bitter understanding.

Cove is too afraid to say anything, lest she shatter the moment. She tenses up when Mairi sits next to her, fingertips pressing up against the window helplessly and forming little marks in the condensation. Tragedy is evident on her face when she leans back slightly, her eyes flitting over to take in her daughter. She stares at her intensely, scrutinising every inch of the girl before her as if committing her to memory. Cove begins to shift nervously, but she promptly stills at what her mother next says.

  "Tha thu bòidheach," Mairi mutters, her voice hoarse from lack of use. "Mo luaidh, mo leannan."

  Cove is at a loss for words. The sudden attention from her mother has reduced her to a fumbling mess, her mouth gaping open like that of a goldfish. She struggles to find a response, sifting through the wildly strewn puzzle pieces of rusty Gaelic that she still retains at the back of her mind in a failing attempt to respond without completely offending Mairi.

  "Tapadh leat, Màthair."

  For a moment, Cove worries that she'll be judged for her clumsy pronunciation, but her insecurities melt away when Mairi smiles. It looks crooked and out of place on her forever gloomy face, yet comforting. Cove can see the raw beauty in her mother's finely carved features, weathered by the unfortunate side effects of time and the accompanying sadness that carves it.

  She reaches out, her fingertips twisting through Cove's biscuity curls. They always cause her mother such pain, along with her green eyes, which are much too reminiscent of her father's. Mairi sees a vague reflection of herself in her daughter, tainted by the very characteristics of the man that stole her freedom all those years ago. Sorrow, cataclysmic and destructive, stabs through her heart as her wizened hands reach down to the seashell necklace around her daughter's collarbones, grasping limply at the pearls. She used to have one just like it, once upon a time.

  Wordlessly, her fingertips return to Cove's hair and begin to untangle all of the knots that have formed. When she's managed to tackle the prominently matted sections, she begins to divide her thick hair into two plaits, her spindly fingers weaving through the coiling tresses presented before her.

  It's out of the blue. The affection. Cove can't remember the last time she'd ever experienced something this close to motherly love, her heartstrings being plucked pizzicato like a fiddle. It's comforting, yet equally as dumbfounding.

  Mairi finishes off the plaits with two bobbles that she had procured from the pocket of her wrinkled dressing gown, tracing her fingertips over the grooves of Cove's hair one final time before she retracts her hands. The silence holds strong between them as they survey the world through their living room window, watching as their home waters are desecrated by their age old enemies.

  Mairi's distress is palpable and it only makes Cove feel more despaired. She spins around to face her, tearing their respective focus away from the window and redirecting it into what she has to say.

  "I'll help you look," Cove susurrates, sitting as still as a statue, worried that moving even a hair out of place would burst the bubble of serenity that envelops them. She doesn't specify what she'll be looking for — it's crystal clear to her mother. "Tomorrow. Hell, tonight. I can try again."

  Mairi's face falls. "There's no use, child. You've been searching for years. Nothing can be done." Her regretful expression makes the sorrow in Cove all consuming. "I believe there to be little hope left for me."

  "Don't say that," she cries, fury weeping into her tone. "I'll do it. I can finally get you home, reunite you with your parents. You can be free again."

  Mairi doesn't say anything. She only wraps an arm around Cove tentatively and pulls her close to her chest, gliding a soothing hand over her hair to try and remedy the frizziness. It's a slightly awkward embrace but she sinks into it eventually, burrowing her face deeper into her mum's vaguely scratchy dressing gown. Mairi lets her cry, rocking slightly as though she were still a wailing child.

They sit like that for a while longer. Cove is embarrassed at how the tears seem to flow when they're unleashed, pouring all of her emotion out and laying the bare bones of her vulnerability out for all to see. Drowning in salty tears like the sea Mairi's forbidden from entering, mourners at the funeral of a life they could've had.

  Cove sniffles, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She takes a deep breath. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

  Mairi tilts her head, her sad eyes sparking with vague interest. "Go on, then."

  "Cordy told me that she popped in for a visit ages ago. Her and Finlay. Some of the others too, I think."

  Mairi's eyes begin to blur. "Yes..." she murmurs wistfully. "They're all so grown up now. I've missed so much."

"What happened? On that day, I mean," Cove presses. "She said it didn't go well. I, um, saw the marks on her face through the tide message. What did—" her throat constricts. "—dad do."

Something seems to go wrong when she asks that. It's like a screw dislodges from Mairi's head, loosening and breaking away from the internal workings of her mind. Her lips part, forming an answer that she isn't quite prepared to give. Her stare goes dead, glazing over completely now.

Cove sighs to calm herself. It seems that's as far as she'll get today.

She tentatively rests her hands on her mother's twitching arms, guiding her to stand up unsteadily. She steers her in the direction of her bedroom, guiding her around hazardous obstacles in their path and gently sitting her down on the wrinkled covers of her bed. Mairi's head hits the pillow and she stares mutely at the ceiling, her eyelids beginning to flutter with exhaustion. Cove can't remember the last time she'd ever seen her sleep.

  She lingers by the doorframe, head tilted as she appraises the rise and fall of her mother's chest. A wave crashes down on the shoreline outside, saltwater dimpling the window from the sheer closeness of the sea. So close, yet so far out of Mairi's reach. Slipping through her fingers like measly grains of sand.

  Cove frowns, turning away and pacing down the hall. The walls feel too asphyxiating in the grey bleakness of that evening, the silence far too loud. When she finally crosses the threshold into her bedroom, she simply sits and stares at the wall for longer than she cares to document. In that static moment, there's only one thing that's coursing in her head.

She wants answers.
 

author's note!

massive filler chapter but still!!!! mairi and cove have actual contact + a conversation!!!! that's progress in my professional opinion 😍