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The sea was endless and blue, like always. Gentle waves as far as the eye could see, the water barely separable from the sky on the horizon.
It was a nice day. The kind of day on which Scar would love to get his hands dirty under the sun on the deck with an unobstructed view of the bottomless blue all around him. It was not a day he would have liked to be cooped up inside the control room, watching the waves through dirty glass. And yet, there he was.
Well, he thought, no use crying over something he couldn’t change. He’d already managed to talk his way out of his last control room shift, and even the backroom cleaning that he was supposed to do the day before. Even he didn’t know how he’d managed that, it was the foulest job on the whole boat.
He eyed the door, contemplating leaving, if only for a few minutes, to get some fresh air and all that. Their mission was critical, he knew that, but surely a few minutes of inattention wouldn’t hurt anybody!
He made up his mind and grabbed for his cane which hung on the side of the control table, on a bright orange hook that Cub had grumbled a bit about ruining the aesthetic of the room before drilling it in place of the old, boring white one. Other than the few blinking red lights on the monitors, it was the only bit of color in the room, and Scar was happy for anything he could get.
He looked over the most important monitors a final time, and turned to leave— and then his brain caught up to his eyes.
He threw himself back into the plush white chair, his gaze glued onto the gentle red glow of the strange shape outlined on a black-and-white screen. It was… not like anything he had seen before. At least not in real life. Only in his dreams. His greatest dreams.
He scrambled for the door, the frame creaking violently as he threw it open.
“Cub! CUB!” his voice broke from the force of his shouts, but by the time he straightened up from the coughing fit he’d had, Cub was already rushing toward him, panic written all over his face.
“Scar! What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping himself from cupping his cheeks to examine his face at the last second, “Are you alright?”
“Cub!” he burst into a fit of breathy laughter, wetness seeping from the corner of his eyes, making Cub’s look of concern deepen, “Cub, we found one. We found one!”
* * *
The event itself had been a blur. Scar spent most of it back in the control room, screaming instructions to Cub outside until his voice grew hoarse. Then, flashes of color, dull through the veil of water, so much movement he got dizzy from just watching, and Cub’s voice in the back of his mind, following his orders without thinking even a second about them.
It paid off, in the end. His fingers ran over the coat, so smooth it felt like touching water. A shiver ran through him, starting from his hands, the feeling of pure, raw magic overwhelming him for a second. His eyes fell closed as his fist wrapped protectively around the edge of the skin.
Such a little thing, one would find it hard to believe it could hold so much power. Scar could believe, though. He could believe it all too well. He shuddered again as images of small blue bodies, icy wings and sharp teeth flashed through his mind. He hoped never to see one of those creatures ever again, and with the selkie coat that he had in his hands, maybe his hopes would come true. There was nothing more powerful than a selkie coat, as the elders had said. If anything, then that could rid his home of the invaders, those hateful little creatures. They'd also been warned, of course, that their search would be a lost cause. It was common knowledge that as powerful as a selkie coat was, it was just as difficult to come by. But they'd done it! Him and Cub. They'd found it and they could go home and they could live in peace and–
"Give that back," came a voice from beside him. He whipped to the side, arms wrapped protectively around the coat to shield it from any danger– even if that danger was its owner themself. The creature – however human-looking, Scar had to remind himself that it was just a selkie after all – was standing on violently shaking legs, skin ghostly pale, shaggy hair hiding their face almost completely. And yet. Their voice was confident and calm, quiet, but with an edge to it that convinced Scar he would regret it if he did not obey. But he couldn't, even if he wanted to. He had an obligation – to Cub, to his home, to himself – he could not condemn them all to an endless suffering just because this one creature looked at him too sternly.
Where was Cub when he needed him anyway? How had the creature gotten out? He just had to tie them up again or toss them back into the sea, and most definitely not keep staring at their face, trying to peer under the curtain of disheveled hair. That was not helpful in his situation.
What suddenly got him moving again, snapping him out of his daze, was when the creature lunged at him, grabbing for their coat still wrapped around his arm. A simple sweep of his cane threw them off their already unsteady feet, and they crumpled to the floor in a pathetic pile beneath Scar. An apology was halfway to slipping through his lips before he caught himself and grabbed for the pieces of broken rope still half-wrapped around their arms and legs, pulling their limbs back with a tug that he was sure must have been extremely painful, but to which their only reaction was a soft grunt. He flipped the creature over, onto his back, reaching for the other end of the ropes to completely immobilize them and then–
Their hair fell out of their face, laying like a mangled halo around their head – his head, Scar suddenly corrected himself.
His head.
Grian’s head.
Grian, Grian, Grian.
Scar wondered where he knew that face from, where he knew that name from. He wondered why he let him shake the ropes off. He wondered why he let him approach. He wondered why the only word on his lips was that name, again.
He wondered why it felt like the only word his tongue was created to form.