Seal Skin

Chapter two: Twine, Brine, and Bedclothes

Lannister Davies bolted the door of the lighthouse behind him, and began to pray for the first time since he was a child of six. It was a clumsy prayer, for fear and confusion addled both his mind and his mouth, and he had a hard time remembering how "Our Father" went, as most of his mind by then had been taken up by things of more practical import. And yet, he thought, as he clasped his hands, sweating, if selkies existed, the Lord may as well, and yet this he doubted. A part of him wanted to write the creature off as a hallucination, but even now he could hear it keening, it's voice a horrid twining of human and seal, breaking and arching like the ice that floated on the sea outside.

He couldn't leave it there. Or leave him, he supposed. Lannister wasn't a greatly kind man, but he wasn't greatly cruel either, and while the odd thing in the shed sent the terror of the ocean through him, he couldn't find himself wishing it harm. So, with a grin determination, he hastily shoved on his galoshes and oilskene coat, and shoved wads of cotton into his ears.

The seabirds that had flocked by the latched shed in confusion were another stern reminder this was real, as was the ache that was building in his ears, despite the cotton. He took a deep breath, gathering strength to yell over the unholy noise. "I don't wish to harm ye. But I am coming in, and taking ye into the lighthouse. You'll freeze if you stay in there." Halfway through his message, the screaming stopped. His hand hesitated over the plank of wood that served as a lock. "I'm unlatchin' the door now." He opened it slowly, every muscle in his body tense as iron. He flinched, expecting the creature to rush at him, but it did not. Instead it sat shivering, dried blood caked on its skin, hunched over its pelt. Lannister could see it was crying. It turned and stared him in the face, not coming towards him nor scuttling back, and the sailor was able to get a better look at it. The selkie's brow was pale, but heavy and thick, seemingly made of the same seal whiskers that served for facial hair. The mouth was full and curved, and would have been pretty if it wasn't twisted with grief. The eyes were still utterly inhuman, huge and wet and dark as night, shining in the gloom of the shed. He saw that the creature was still desperately trying to fix it's cleaved flesh, and his heart turned with guilt. "Can ye speak? I don't wish to harm you, but you'll die if you stay there-" "My....skin." the voice was deeper than he'd expected, and understandably hoarse. "I-I know, I'm terribly sorry. I hadn't known...hadn't known what you were. Are ye a selkie?" It nodded slowly. "Aye, I see. A man?" Again, nodding more fervent this time. "Well, lad, come with me and we'll sort out this terrible mess I've got us into, aye?" The selkie looked to him, then to his skin. "I won't touch it but to stitch it together, I swear it to you." There was a great moment of silence, but shakily, the selkie man stood, pelt clutched in his arms tightly. They made their way to the lighthouse, Lannister giving the creature quick looks back to make sure he was following. It was freezing, and harsh winds whipped the selkie's hair about his head. He was naked and barefoot, but if the cold caused him discomfort, he did not show it, instead carrying himself with a sort of animalistic regality. Lannister opened the door for him and closed it behind them both, pointing at the hearth. "That's fire, that is. It'll warm you, but don't touch it-" The selkie turned from him wordlessly and sat on the hearthstone, warming himself. "I know what fire is, sailor. I know it cooks the flesh." The wicky blinked, not fully expecting the odd man in front of him to be so eloquent. "I have a needle and twine, I'll fetch them, and sew up that gash, if you'll let me?" The selkie nodded. "Aye... I'll be back quick, then."

He found the selkie where he'd left him, sitting by the fire, still caked in grime, gently stroking a pudgy, clawed hand along his pelt. He approached slowly, considering the cracked leather armchair before resigning himself to sit on the hearth by the creature. The two men stared at each other, and Lannister knew the selkie was studying him as much as he did. "If...if you'll pass me your coat, I'll start mending? I won't move from this spot." Again, the selkie stared at him, then to his skin, then back at him, before wordlessly holding out the bloody pelt. "Thank ye." He took it, gently, smoothed it over his lap to find the start of the gash, and began to work.