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seungkwanslowqualityenglish · 4 months

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Tides of the Soul

✿ Synopsis: All places have their secrets and mythos. Some places the mythos come with a grain of salt, the idea of reality blurring with imagination, sparking the joy within the lives of the residents. But, sometimes those myths are not as imaginary as one would assume, they being the cornerstone of society within your small island home. As you find yourself the owner of the coat of a selkie, thoughts are torn between two extremes of what to do, as you find yourself falling in love with the one who is unwillingly bound to your soul.

✿ Who: Asakura Jo (&Team) x Reader ✿ Word Count: 11,462 ✿ Genre: Fantasy(selkie)/Angst/Fluff/Sad ✿ Warnings: Forced marriage. ✿ Request: No ✿ Enjoy.

At the age of nine your father disappeared into the night. Without a word, he was gone. Living in a small coastal sea town, you had grown used to the amount of people that would go out to sea and never return. The sheer number of young widows turned the town into a hotspot for men wanting to settle down with people that already had an established life. And even more grim, a hotspot for funeral homes, after all the easiest funeral to hold is one where there is not a body for the directors to worry about or get ready. Whole streets consisted of numerous stores dedicated to selling items related to mourning, entire stores full of nothing but sorry for your loss cards, and shop fronts advertising their lines of all black children’s and adult’s clothing.

Children grow up associating every ship sailing as a forever goodbye. Their fathers and brothers going out to sea, and oftentimes never being seen alive again. Returning is rarer than those who get lost at sea. The rarity of returns often lead to large celebrations, ending in the whole town wasted and destroyed, a cost that the town can afford seeing how sparingly the sailors return. Losing a father or brother is something that all children are raised to expect, along with losing a step-father or step-brother, and in some cases multiple step-fathers. The reality of seeing a struggling single mother is more common than seeing a happily married couple, and the rarest of all being a father. The torental sea claims the lives of most that attempt to conquer it, ships and people embracing the waves, just to never be seen again. The waves claimed each ship, like an offering to some sea gods, or sinking each ship like an angered sea god, punishing those who were foolish enough to trek out onto their territory. A way of living associated with death and loss, something that even the youngest of children are accustomed to.

At the age of nine your mother had no attempts to provide you any sort or form of closure regarding your father. A midnight voyage, she called it, claiming he just decided to up and leave, working is better in the dark, she claimed he said. But, she changed the story every time you asked, a fishing trip, a work trip, a midnight voyage, a sailing trip, and running away from their family, being too ashamed to ask for a divorce, and many other stories she would tell. It all made no sense when you were nine, and now as a young adult, it made even less sense. His ship was not outfitted to be a fishing vessel, he would not have been foolish enough to make a voyage without notifying his family of where he was going, and he also was not stupid enough to go on a fishing trip without at least including his friends or his working buddies.

There were many things your father was, sometimes not the best dad, sometimes forgetful of important things and events, and sometimes it felt like he was not completely there, but there was one thing that he was not, and that was stupid. You never believed the claims of a midnight voyage, the late night fishing trip, a late night work trip, and especially never believed your mothers claims that he was cheating and left to be with the other woman. He would not have left you. He never would or could have, if he really did leave for you, you know that he would have had you right alongside. He wouldn’t have left you like your mother claimed, he wasn’t that type of father. He loved you more than he loved his own wife, and he made sure that you knew that small fact.

The town newspaper had become an obituary and in memoriam paper, with the sheer amount of death by sea in the area vastly outnumbering the number of current and positive events happening in the town. As you tossed the paper on the table, all you could think was about how at this point they might as well make it a solely death related paper, after all out of the 30 pages, only 3 were about things that are not death. 27 pages of obituaries and in memoriams, compared to a single page on current events, and then two pages of ads. Looking down at the paper, starting to wonder why your mother had gotten it today, she never bought the paper, saying it was too grim, too dark for her. Reading through the pages with nothing more than a quick glance on each, you finally saw the reason why on one of the backpages. Within the block text was a name that looked familiar, it finally hit you after a few moments, it was your father’s name. It brought back the memories of when you were nine, your mom keeping you home from school to break the news, despite it being almost eleven years ago, the member was fresh in your mind, like it only happened yesterday. The pain you felt as your mother said he was lost at sea flooded your mind, how only the figurehead from the bow of his ship was found, how it washed ashore in the wee hours of daylight, and how it meant more than likely your father was gone now. The anniversary of his death always affected you much worse than your mother, she showed no emotion, but also at this point she not only had your father to mourn, but also two other husbands she had lost to the sea since then, luckily step-dad three had yet to suffer the same fate, but you also knew it was only a matter of time.

It was none other than her voice that knocked you from your reverie, as she called you from elsewhere in your house. Going upstairs, you failed to find her, before you finally realized she was calling you from the rarely used attic, a room you were forbidden from entering as a child, and hadn’t sought entry to even as an adult. Climbing up the rickety old steps, you found yourself face to face with a slew of dusty boxes thrown about, materials collected from your mother’s various marriages, old antiques passed down through the line, and old toys of your own that you could have sworn she said they donated. It did not take long for you to find the reason you came up here, your mother standing on the far edge, surrounded by boxes, elbow deep digging through one.

Without even announcing your entry, she seemed to know that you had entered, starting to talk without even acknowledging your entry with a look. “Do you recall all those old myths and folklore that I taught you as a child?” she started, with an innocent enough question, “I want you to tell me what you remember.’

It was an odd request, the folklore, of course you remember it, well some of it, but not all of it. You can recall the tales of the fairies and the fae, the mermaids and mermen, the sirens and the dwarfs, and many others. “What tale is it you want specifically,” you start to ask your mother, “there are so many, you need to be specific.” The tall tales were something you remember vividly, the glorious image your mother and father had painted in your mind as a young child, something that you failed to forget. Memories of how passionate your father was as he spoke of these creatures, a fresh memory in your mind, it was hard to forget, how he was so descriptive with his words, helping you easily paint a vivid scene, from just the stories.

“Start telling them,” her voice called out from across the attic, “I’ll let you know when you get to the right one.” Of course there was a specific tale she wished for you to tell, but making it hard as she always did, she refused to tell you just which one. It was almost as though she liked playing the guessing game, or maybe she just liked telling you that you were wrong, both were valid answers to the question when your mother was the subject.

With the plethora of tales, you had no idea where you intended to start, maybe the sea tales, or maybe the mountain tales, or the plain tales, or maybe the air tales, or maybe just cycling through them all until she finally says yes. “The fairies lay claim to the wooded forest on the forbidden side of the island,” you started, only to hear her grunt in disapproval. One tale down, but still you had many many many others to go through. “The dwarfs and gnomes are rumored to have lived in the foothills, building homes within the small rocky hills, where no one dares to roam,” once again it was met with disapproval. “The goblins that live on the forest edge, taking a liking to being around the farms, occasionally stealing livestock and being mischievous, but they are also known for helping out those same farmers in their time of need.” Once again, wrong. “The giants, it is said, made homes in the mountains, atop the tallest ones, where the village people knew better than to go.” As your mother started to grunt, you carried on, “the kelpies lived upon the lake side. The fae lay claim to where no fairy would cross.” She continually cut you off, but you continued. “The mermaids swim upon the rivers and the beach’s cove, guardians to those on land, savior of young children that fall into the water, and aiding those lost at sea back.” Finally, your mother made a noise of approval, but still did not confirm it was the right tale, meaning you had reached the right location of the tale, but not the right tale. “Sirens would lay posed against the jagged rocks surrounding the dangerous whirlpools and treacherous rock spines, singing of the sailors most sought after desires, whether it be material items or others, their beautiful singing alluring the sailors to their death.” Seeing your mother shake her head, you were almost at a snapping point, what other tale was there, what could it be your mother wanted to hear, the Loch Ness perhaps, or maybe the tales of the mermen. “What story is it you want then? I’ve gone through everyone that I know, that I can remember at least. Just tell me which tale it was you were looking for, since I have the faintest clue which tale it is that you want.” You finally admit to your mother, somewhat defeated, after all which tale was it she wanted, seeing how all of them failed to satisfy her need for a tale.

A deep groan came from the attic corner, as you maneuvered your way through the stuffy and dusty room over to your mom. “There is one more tale that you forgot, or maybe I never taught it to you. That couldn’t be it, I know I taught you about it, you were just a foolish child who probably forgot it.” She started, being quick to insult you, it was not anything new, anyone that stayed around your mother for a prolonged period of time was bound to realize how narcissistic she was. “Was it not as memorable as the others, what I taught you about it had no tales of death or epic stories building up to an amazing climax. It was just a simple creature that consumed the whole tale, nothing extravagant, and nothing more than that.” She started, for a moment you thought that she just was not going to tell you what it was she wanted, yet at least for once she told you what it was that she wanted. “You recall the tales of the selkie, now don’t look at me like that you child. They were brief tales, as a child there wasn’t much to teach you about the creature.” Pausing, she looked up finally, almost like she was expecting a reply, but you knew better, as she continued. “The selkies are a simple creature, they are seals, but upon shedding their skin turn human. That much I remember telling you, the basics, since as a child you need not know more of the lore than that. But you’re an adult now, and I think it’s time you learn the rest of the tale.” Your mother finished. As she finished, you could say with complete certainty that the woman never told you tales about selkies, but you also knew telling her that would not bode well in your favor. She continued searching before finally finding what it was in the box that she was looking for. Standing up she shows you a worn fur coat, before making her way across the room to where you stood.

“The rest of the tale?” you questioned, your voice trailing off. It was odd, just this whole situation. Being in the attic was odd occurrence number one. Demanding you to recall folklore was odd occurrence number two. Your mother needing to so desperately tell you about the tales of the selkie was odd occurrence number three. Now your mother is fishing out an old fur coat that looked like it hadn’t been worn in years, just to show it to you as she told you tales of the island’s mythology, odd occurrence number four. This was just a bit too much, after all your mother is one of those strong but silent types, you can recall her losing no tears over your father’s fate, nor any of the step-father’s fates that came afterwards. She was one of those ‘I’ll keep my feelings all bottled up in here, and then one day I’ll die types’, this was so unlike her, but it somehow intrigued you. The idea that your mother had some deep dark secret hidden up here in the boxes was interesting, and the idea that your mother seemed to have something major to tell you, led you to sit down next to her. The floor was cold and the room was damp, but the fact that she seemed to clear an area for you to sit, tells you that she had known what she was doing this dark morning.

Wordlessly your mother handed you the jacket, allowing you to see the fine brown fur. It was an aging article, the fur started to fall as it touched your hand, almost like it was disintegrating under your touch. She allowed you to study it, only speaking as she noticed you hold it up, almost as though you were to try it on. She could understand why you would think she wanted you to do that, usually when a family heirloom article of clothing is passed down, that is expected, but not with this jacket, not ever. “No, don’t, my child. You don’t want to try this on.” She reached out, pushing the jacket down, causing it to fall in both your lap and her own. “Now, you recall what I was telling you about, the tales of the selkies, how they shed their pelt and turn human, well it’s a bit more complicated than that. The selkies, their pelt is what lays claim to their soul, a soul that will be bound to whoever places the pelt upon their body. Folktales tell of ladies in the old days, often these would be ladies of the night or unmarried wenches, they would find these fine fur coats upon the ground at the beach, desiring the small bit of luxury that they often would not have been able to afford out of their meager wages, they would put the coat on, even if just to experience their desires of having the money to afford such a luxury. Oftentimes, they however would not place the fur back where it once was, instead their minds luring them to take it, to make it their own, since after all if the owner truly loved the fur, why would they leave it at the beach. Yet, these stories never ended there, instead they would be lured to the sea in the middle of the night, awaiting being the owner of the pelt, male or female awaiting the one they are now bound to. Placing the pelt on your body is like the mark of a soulmate, however there is often no love actually involved, often only desires to return to the sea and loveless marriages.” She said, pausing, like she was wondering how to finish the tale.

Looking at your mother’s face, you realize she is far from done, “From the look on your face, I assume there is more?” You ask, only to sigh as she nods.

Continuing her stories, she softly takes the fur from your hands, at that point it was completely in her lap, as she clinched it between both hands. “While tales tell of women happening upon these pelts by accident, there are also tales of how men happen upon these pelts. Sailors would wait upon the decks, watching the water, looking for things in specific, young women, especially attractive young women, then they would search for furs. To many of these men, pelts were a way to basically get a servant, a woman who would wait on your every beck and call, someone to manipulate that wouldn’t fight back, someone that they knew the law wouldn’t side with. These selkies would become their wives, but wives is a word that is too generous, oftentimes they were nothing more than servants, they would appease their husbands each and every whim, meals, housework, cleaning, and whatever they may want in the bedroom. Some of these men would even have multiple selkie wives, stealing each and every pelt they came upon. As the selkies aged, they would often be replaced by younger ones, over and over again until the sailors felt the need to get rid of them. Stories tell of men that had whole basements constructed for the housing of their unwanted wives, leaving the aged selkies to rot, refusing to let go of them, but also refusing to let them leave, a truly greedy thing some of these men would do. However, some were much more lucky, gaining their freedom, they were able to escape, however unable to return to the sea without their pelt. Some selkies were able to gain access to their pelts, finding them in hidden places and old boxes, returning to the sea before their husband had even realized they found it. But for many, the fate was much more grim, selkies rotting away in houses, longing to escape servitude, escape their loveless marriages, and dreaming to escape to the sea they so longed for. For a selkie, both male and female, once bonded, there is only one way to break the bond and allow them to return to the sea, and that is with their pelt. From the moment another puts it on, they are bonded to them until they get it back, once it returns to them, and they are able to wear it once more, they can return to the sea, back to their original form, and the partner they were once bonded with, the bond is broken, only able to be repaired if they once again gain access to the pelt and put it on, something that usually would never happen, they gained their freedom and wouldn’t return, instead warning the other selkies to stay away, in hopes of the same thing won’t be happening to them.” She finished, finally making eye contact with you, waiting to see your reaction as she slowly ran her hands over the slowly decaying fur.

Nodding your head, you wracked your brain, trying to think of when she had told you about this. But you can up with a blank, she had not ever mentioned selkies, nor did your father. Until today they were a creature you had yet to hear of, which was odd, especially seeing how your mother claims they related so deeply with the island’s culture and all. “That’s a bit grim,” you finally started, “they would take random furs in the hopes it was a selkie’s fur?” Looking up, you saw your mother nod her head. It was just a strange thing to say, they would steal and wear fur, in hopes they would get a husband or wife, an odd lore it was, possibly the oddest that you had learned regarding the island. “You said they aren’t bonded until they wear the fur, so does that mean that they are just like selkies out there without any fur, just like swimming around like mermaids or something?” You question, seeing how if your mother wanted to take the tale this far, you would just encourage her some more.

A short laugh came from your mother’s mouth. “Of course you would think of a question that isn’t covered in the story,” she started, “yet, I would assume that they do. If they lived on land, I’m sure we would realize this person with no family, home, or anything on land. Selkies are seals that can turn humans, so one would assume that they do, since seals like, have tails right?” she asked, before carrying on, taking it upon herself to preemptively answer any other questions you might have. “You might also wonder about destroying their fur, after all that was a question I had when your grandmother told me about this, but the many tales say different things. Some claim it destroys the bond, leaving the selkie feeling as though they will die if they don’t reach water within the hour, many dying from not making it. While others say it retains the bonds, but leaves the selkie unable to ever leave, they will stay bonded to that person forevermore. Yet, some tales say destroying the fur is equivalent to destroying the person, they will cease to exist, some say their memories are erased from your mind, while others claim memories of them remain but they just disappear.” she said, looking up once more. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you know that I wouldn’t be telling you this if it wasn’t important. If it wasn’t something you need to know, especially before mother gets here.”

This was when confusion started to set in, something you needed to know before grandma got here. Why was she coming over today, why did you need to know another one of the island's tall tales before her visit, what was even going on. “Why, how is this important, is grandma gonna test me on my knowledge of our folklore or something?” you started to question, “Is she gonna ask me the selkies lore and then if I mess up be like, well you are out of my will now, or something?” it was confusing, why was it so important. These were just stories you were told as a kid, they held no importance in the adult world, except for things to tell your future children if you had any.

“It is a bit confusing my dear, but you just need to trust me, it will all make sense before long.” Was all your mother said, before she stood picking up the fur and folding it once more, well folding what was left of it. She placed it back into the dusty decaying box, closing it with a look as though that will be the last time it sees daylight. Looking over to her child, she gestures to the door. “Let’s go back downstairs, we can make some tea and snacks and wait for mother to arrive, before we continue this.”

You followed almost on autopilot, the only thing you felt at the moment was confusion, why was it so important for you to know all of this, what did grandma have to do with this, and why was all that junk shoved into the attic. These were all thoughts that ran through your mind as you went downstairs, starting to help your mother prepare for grandma’s visit. Tea in the kettle, some sandwiches and cookies placed on the platter, next to a platter of fruits and vegetables you knew would remain untouched, since your grandmother was not the time to indulge in fruits or vegetables, she would rather eat things she likes. There was one thing she always said ‘I won’t waste my caloric intake on foods I don’t like’, for being almost eighty she sure was a rowdy and rough one, bold enough to never back down from a fight, and a mouth that would make even a seasoned sailor blush.

It wasn’t long before you heard the door open, followed by a loud yell, “NOW WHERE ARE MY SWEETIES,” she yelled out. It was not something that phased you, she had a habit of calling everyone sweetie, it was often in a sweet way, but it always made you laugh when she would use it condescendingly, making people think she was some innocent little old lady, when those who knew her, know she is anything but. It wasn’t long before the kitchen door flew open, in walked a kaleidoscope of colors, she might be known for her boldness, and that even bled into her fashion taste, nothing matched, but she’d be damned if you could not recognize her from miles away. “Oh, you made some tea, did you make it how I like?” she questioned, seeing your mother nod, she accepted the answer, turning her attention to you. “Oh, look at you dearie, what are you now, thirty or so,” she started, acting like she couldn’t remember your age for a moment there, but you knew how smart she was, she wasn’t the type to forget birthdays or ages. “My, you’ve shot up like a beanstalk, well at least compared to me. My my my, my dearie, you’re all grown up now, twenty, it only seems like yesterday that you were a sweet babe crying in my arms. You were just a wee little one, now you’ve gone and all grown up on me, but you’re still my sweet little babe, no matter how old you get.” She said, taking your hand, leading you over to the table, wanting you to sit next to her. Leading you to a seat, she took her own, simply stirring her tea as your mother brought it over.

You were at a loss of words, it was not like your grandmother to get overly affectionate, she was not the doting grandmother many others had. Your earliest memory of her, was being three and she teaching you the f-word, you will never forget how red your mother became when you told her the word granny taught you, she always said if you were to inherit anything of hers, it should be her ability to make even the toughest of sailors blush within a few moments, but your mother nipped that in the bud rather quickly. As you looked over at your grandmother from your seat, you stirred your tea, unable to think of how to address this. The odd stories, the whole it’s important thing, it was just not making any sense to you. Luckily, it seemed as though your mother started to realize you were not going to say anything, so she piped up first.

“Now mother, we all know you love us, but would you maybe want to get along with it.” She said, taking a sip of her tea, “I know how much you like to spin your tales, a simple story turns into an hour long tangent, but I think the child here might be a bit too nervous for you to drag them along much longer.” Your mother said, placing a cube of sugar delicately into the tea cup, before stirring it, leaving it up for your grandmother to tell what was so important.

Grandmother was not used to taking orders, especially orders from one of her own offspring, but finally upon seeing the shade of white washing down your face, as you seemingly got cold chills, she decided to get straight to the point. “Now dearie, as you know all families have secrets, some are innocent while some are not so innocent. I mean, Mrs. Shepard down the street, her family to this day makes and sells backwoods moonshine, not that you heard it from me but it’s not strong enough. Then you remember your old school teacher, Mr. Barnes, his great grandfather was accused of kidnapping and murdering dozens of young women, he never got tried or caught, but most of us know it was true, after all he was the police chief and it was odd that each officer that accused him would end up dead by day's end. But besides that, some families have tales of murder and betrayals, while some have tales of bootleg liquor and drunks. Yet, there is another subsection of this, those who have something a bit more magical and mythical in their bloodline.” She started, drinking a bit of her tea before continuing. “You know, the imagination is a wondrous thing, it can help you create crazy stories and extravagant myths, but not every tale is as imaginary as you may think. Some things are just a bit too wild, a bit too crazy, a bit too detailed, a bit too described for them to be fake, for them to just be something created in someone’s head. They often call them myths, tales passed down from generation to generation, yet only those which are short and memorable really ever survive without being written down. Tales of giants that live in the mountains, are not true in the slightest. Tales of fae that trap humans down in the forest, not true as well. Stories of gnomes in the valley, once more, nothing more than a myth. But some tales are true, yet many may not know it.” She said, stopping once more, starting to drink her tea and eat some snacks. With the amount of talking she was going to have to do, explaining everything, she started to drink and eat, making sure to keep her energy up.

Looking at your grandmother, you had no idea how to process what you had just been told. Myths, real, unlikely. There were just so many things that don’t make sense, how would this not have been such a big thing, media coverage from all over the world now, if it was true at least. “But, what do you mean, there isn’t any way any of it can be true. I mean if it was why wouldn’t everyone know about it, someone would leak it, or tell the press. The worldwide media would be all over it, if it was true.”

Grandmother instead ignored your questions, carrying on as though you had said nothing. “To cut the bullshit short, there are two main myths that most don’t realize are real on our little island. The tales of the sirens and selkies, I know, how cute, water creatures for our little water surrounded home, but have you ever wondered how some show up with spouses that just manage to appear out of thin air, or how there are still some parts of the sea we have yet to map. How so many sailors disappear out at sea, but their spouses soon rebound with another like nothing ever happened. Oftentimes those sirens sink our ships, killing our men with their songs about their greatest desires, whether that be other women or something as stupid as a chocolate chip cookie. Selkies however are a bit more interesting, people find their furs, keeping them for when husband one or two or three or however many disappear at sea, then they have a quick and easy way to rebound, of course for the sake of the children.” she said, saying it like it was nothing, like she was not just dropping a ton of family lore information on you all at once. “Yet, dearie, our family is a bit different. We don’t use those furs as rebounds or even sometimes purposely send our husbands out on ships we know are going into the siren infested areas, yet we are involved in these myths in a secret way. I can’t tell you how far it goes back, but I remember stories from my mother about how her grandmother did this for her, how her grandmother did it for her, and how her grandmother did it for her, and here I am doing it for you.” She said, leaving off on another cliffhanger as she started to shovel food in her mouth once more.

“You probably haven’t noticed, but few in our family still remain married to their first spouse, and there is a reason for that. For as far back as I can remember, and as far back as our family has been told, our children’s first spouse is always one of mythical origins, that’s why oftentimes our families are small, it gives those my age a bit less work to do. Your father was one, your mother’s father was one, my own mother was one, and so forth. Each of us have more in common than just being related, all of us are related to selkies in some way. I know, it’s a lot to take in, but I’d rather give it to you in one big dose than in many smaller doses..” Grandma says, stopping for a second as she sees the confused look in your eyes, taking your hand, she runs her calloused thumb against the back of your hand, trying to calm you a bit before continuing. “Every time a child turns the age of twenty, their grandmother or grandfather will present them a fur that they’ve saved for them, the fur is of a selkie, the selkie which will be your first spouse. It’s a family tradition of sorts, it first started back when few lived on the islands, a way to escape the idea of marrying into your own blood, but before long it became the standard for our family, and will be the standard for you my child.”

As grandmother stopped, you looked between your mother and her horrified. “So let me get this straight, you just like steal some poor selkie’s fur and give it to your child, and we just like to get stuck with them, no way out, no exit, I just have to pass go and collect 200, I don’t get a choice in this.” You said, pulling your hand from your grandmother’s grasp, as they both nodded. “No. No, this is complete bullshit, I’m not just gonna marry someone I’ve never met, someone that I don’t love, just for some stupid tradition. Do I not matter? Do my feelings not matter? Does finding someone I actually love and care for do not matter to you?” You yelled, standing up, anger and disgust starting to build from what you had just heard. “Do I not matter? Did you only have a child to carry on this stupid archaic tradition, this barbaric thing? Did you ever think maybe they don’t want this either, you are stealing them from their life for something they didn’t want. Maybe they don’t want it either, and neither do I.” You yelled, finally having enough you ran out of the house, leaving your grandmother and mother yelling after you.

Leaving, you knew it was the better option than blowing up even worse. It was hard to think about, they planned on marrying you off to whoever’s pelt your grandmother had stolen. They planned on stealing them away from the life they lead, from the life they held, just to throw them in yours. You just found yourself running out of the house, running along the seaside until you found a small cliff on the beach, taking refuge in the rocks under the overhang. Finally you could start to try to make sense of everything they were telling you, but no matter how much you thought of it, none of it made sense. Selkies and sirens being real, what is next mermaids and the loch ness monster being real, maybe they’ll just tell you all those little myths you heard as a kid were real, since why the hell not, if a few are, all must be.

Part of your brain was hoping this was all just some elaborate prank, some idea your grandmother and mother came up with to prank you before your birthday celebration or something. But, deep down you knew it was anything but, neither of them were the pranking type, and neither would put this much effort into some old prank. They were both too serious for anything like that, and honestly even in the deepest pits of your soul, you knew they would not drop this. The small cliff was your refuge for who knows how many hours, you sat there while the sun was high in the sky, it was lower on the horizon when you finally made your way home. Rather than possibly chance talking to your mother and grandmother, you decided to run into the house and right up to your bedroom, avoiding them both for the best. However, as you made your run, you were too slow, they already knew you were there.

“Oh, so you finally came to your senses,” grandmother said snarkily as she watched you try to run in the house. Both her and mother knew you would make a break for it if you could, so they knew it would be best to intercept you before you finally could make it to the bedroom. A room where you probably would not come out of, they both knew how easily you would lock yourself up until this blew over. But sadly, this was not going to blow over, there was no punchline to this horrible joke, and they were not going to drop this topic.

Seeing your mother blocking the staircase as you heard a lock click, a sound that seemed to be coming from the front door. You could hear your mother’s sigh, it seemed as though she had taken over the whole discussion from your grandmother. “Dear, I know you don’t like this, but you have no decision on the topic. The only choice you get to make is are you going to do it willingly, or will we have to force it upon you while you are sleeping,” she said, “and don’t think we are joking, you won’t be the first person to have the fur shoved upon them while they slumber.”

A short laugh left your lips, looking between your mother and grandmother, thinking they can not be serious. But, they did not laugh, they just glowered at you, making it finally hit you, this is not a joke, they are not joking, and they are being completely serious. “Well then, I guess you’ll have to find a way to make me do it, since I can not and will not willingly put it on, no matter what you say and what you do,” you said, quickly pushing past your mother, starting upstairs.

Your mother attempted to stop you, gripping your wrist, but let it drop as you started to tug your arm. “That didn’t go how I wanted it to,” she muttered to your grandmother, “I guess we’ll have to plan something,” your mother started to say, her voice trailing off as you made it to your bedroom door.

As you enter your room, locking the door, you could not help but think of what they had said, do it or we will make you. The words resounded in your head, you really had no choice, it was take a spouse or we will force you to take a spouse. Checking the door one last time, fatigue finally hit you, and you wanted to make sure that neither woman would be coming into your room to force a coat you do not desire upon you. Satisfied that the door is locked, you fell asleep, unbeknownst to you, that they were planning something downstairs.

The planning of your mother and grandmother was quick, wait until you sleep, unlock your door, since they knew it would be locked, and force the coat on you. The plan was easier said than done, but honestly they both expected some resistance from you, you were never the ideal child, always wanting to go your own way, blaze your own path, they hated it. Why would you not just follow along like a good child and do as they told you to, it would make both your life and their lives easier, but you were too headstrong for your own good.

It was nearing midnight when they put their plan into action. You were out, and they were fast. The jacket had been forced onto your body and removed so quickly, you would have had no idea it happened had it not been for you waking to your bedroom light on and door open. It broke your heart to see that your mother and grandmother had done this, unable to accept your desires to be freed from the stupid and archaic family tradition they hold so dear. As morning came, you slipped out of the house without a word to either of them, wanting to just run as far as you could.

Coming upon the cliff that overlooks the ocean by your house, you just sat, watching the waves as they rolled, the seagulls flying about, and the boats going over the horizon, to probably never return home again. Had you been staring downwards, you would have seen him exiting the water. The distance between him and the owner of his coat had been too far for him to leave the water to find them, however as you sat on the cliff, the distance was closer, allowing him to sense your nearness. The male exited the water, pulling on a discarded shirt and pair of shorts that some man had left laying on the rock faces to dry. He then started the trek towards where his soul told him that yours sat, venturing up the rocks and the grassy cliff. For it being his first time officially on the island, he was mostly just confused, he had never gone this far from the beach. He should have honestly never left the water, but curiosity got the best of him, and that’s how your grandmother was able to steal his coat with such ease.

His footsteps were what you heard first, they let you know someone was nearing you, and you knew it had to be whoever the poor soul that was bound to you was. Standing, you took his figure in first, he was tall and honestly quite handsome in the face. If you had met in other circumstances, you would have probably attempted to make a move, but given the circumstances you were under, that idea quickly left your mind.

Looking him in the eye, you felt confused, angered, and just lost. You did not plan on putting on his fur, you did not plan on ever having to see a fur again, you just did not want this one bit. But, of course your grandmother was not joking as she wrestled the fur onto your body as you were half asleep, she especially was not joking after your initial refusal, no one ever said no, and she was not going to let you start. This was not what you wanted, and you knew this was not what he wanted, being bound to some complete stranger for the rest of his life. Part of you just wanted to return the fur, but you had no idea where they had hidden it, your mother probably knew you would just give it back if they left it with you, you can not exactly blame them for thinking ahead well enough to know what you would do. Yet, here you stood now, no fur in hand, just him standing across from you, while you rack your brain of what to do.

First they throw this whole selkie thing on you, then they throw out that your father was a selkie, then they add a little spice and say you have to marry a selkie as well. Generation after generation, your family married selkies, it was a family tradition at this point, but some traditions are meant to be broken, and this is one you wish was. Your family had expected you to accept it without any second thoughts, to just fall in love with this selkie man or woman and get married and have children and just the whole nine yards like they did. You wanted to be the last subjected to this bizarre tradition, but part of you at the same time, did not want it to end. That forbidden part of you had started to feel for him, feelings that you swore you would never feel, feelings that you swore to yourself would never happen. You could not fall for him, you would not fall for him, and you will not under any circumstance love him.

While you were having your moral dilemma, Jo was mostly confused, he had not been in this human world long enough to adjust to anything. He mostly knew of tales from the others, and stories for those few that returned. He did not completely understand why you seemed to hold such a disdain for him, why you did not seem to like him so much. He had not done anything for you to hate him so much, and if he had, he did not know what it could have been.

The start of the relationship was rocky, as any relationship with someone you just met and was told is your spouse would be. Weeks were spent under the watchful eye of your mother and grandmother, the two of them wanting to make sure you could be trusted before giving you any semblance of freedom. Being monitored day in and day out was something you hated, and while you knew little about the man you were spending that time with, you felt he probably hated it as well. Once you had gained their trust, after the first month, your grandmother gifted you her oceanside cottage, claiming it was the perfect place for a young couple to grow closer, but you knew their real motives, the perfect place for a young couple to start a family. That was all they really wanted, another child or two of you could continue this tradition.

Living with Jo was awkward at first, he was unsure how to act around humans, and how to live as one. Meanwhile you were trying to keep assure him you did not want this either, but you always felt like those words meant nothing to him. The way he’s glance at you was almost like he was thinking otherwise, but you ignored it, marking it off as he just not knowing how to show his true feelings around a human.

Throughout time, the two of you grew closer, and Jo became comfortable with the idea of living with you forever. On weekend mornings you would teach Jo how to make various breakfast foods and how to use the appliances around the house, introducing him to a variety of foods he had never seen, pancakes, waffles, and all other sorts of things. Weekday nights, the two of you would make dinner tonight, Jo usually trying the best he can to help. From cooking to cleaning, you had to show him everything, which was expected, it was not like he exactly cleans the kitchen in the sea.

The days passed and the two of you started to feel closer than just two people living together. Moments became more domestic, Jo replicating what he had seen couples do on the television shows and movies you would have him watch with you. He would wrap his arms around your waist as you cooked dinner, chin resting on your shoulder. If anyone was gazing in through the open curtains they would have assumed the two of you were a cute loving couple, and honestly, part of your heart was wishing you were as well. Throughout the days, you started to fall, he was kind with you, gentle with his motions, and it was everything you wanted, but not with him, not like this. The thoughts of finding someone you would love with your whole heart who would love you back was something you always fantasized about as a child, as most people would. The idea of true love being the desire of many, but you did not desire to feel these feelings with someone that you knew would never love you. As long as you were the soul he was bound to, he would never love you, you knew he would only see you as the owner of his coat, and that if given the chance he would have taken it without a second thought and escaped back into the sea. But, as you started to fall, you only wished there was a way to stop, since by the time your heart hit the floor it would be too late.

Time passed, the two of you becoming even more domestic, the ideal of a perfect couple still in the honeymoon phase. But, with each movement and motion, your heart fluttered, the butterflies in your stomach would erupt, letting you know that when you finally allowed him to be free as he should be, it would hurt you more than you would want to admit.

Mornings were spent cuddled up in bed, his arm holding you to his chest, the position felt so familiar, so comfortable. His presence brought you comfort, but that might have just been because of the whole bound souls thing, so ignoring those feelings were what you did most of the time. Midday would be spent enjoying lunch on the beach with him. The two of you would prepare lunch, then enjoy a picnic on the beachside, unless it was raining. His hand fit into yours just like a puzzle piece finding its match, the way he could easily envelope both of your hands within a single one of his made your heart skip a beat each time, as he would easily wrap his fingers around your own, your heart would skip a beat. Evenings were spent laying in his arms, back resting against his chest as his arms pulled you closer, with his chin resting on your shoulder. The feeling of being in his arms was euphoric, the feeling was one that one would assume to only feel while in the grasp of their one true love, but you knew better than to become accustomed to the joy you felt within his grasp.

Watching movies until late at night became a normal routine for the two of you. Jo would lay with you in his arms, the television playing some random movie that would captivate his attention, until either the two of you would fall asleep or you would. When you would fall asleep, usually you would wake up in your bed, Jo having carried you there, knowing it is a more comfortable place to sleep. Other times the two of you would awake on the couch in the morning, complaining about back pain and saying you need to make it to the bed next time, knowing you would just repeat the same actions all over again. Tonight the movie on the television was a generic romance movie, the couple falling in love, facing trials and tribulations, before finally kissing and living happily ever after.

Watching the movie, it was nothing that left a mark on your mind, the stereotypical romance movie being something you have seen many times before, however for Jo, each movie was like a new look into how humans lived, how they acted, how they loved. Watching as the two main characters laid arm in arm, reminded him of the two of you, how you sat against his chest in that moment. Their actions were things he often replicated, hugging you, cuddling you, resting his chin against your shoulder, holding your hands, and so forth. As the two main characters kissed, the thought came to his mind, maybe you would like that.

When his coat was first stolen, he heard stories from the other selkies that he would be miserable, that he would be bound to someone that probably just wanted a servant. He had feared that, the stories from the others being all he had known about humans. The tales of them stealing coats, binding you to them, before turning them into nothing more than unpaid help, unable to leave, unable to have what they want, just stuck doing whatever their owner wants them to for eternity, until they either find their coat and escape or die.

But, Jo was shocked when he saw the person his heart was bound to, expecting an aging person, he was surprised to find that they were his own age. He was shocked even more when he found out they did not want this either, the story you told him about how your mother and grandmother forced his coat onto you in your sleep. Throughout the time with you, he started to feel these odd feelings, feelings like he did not want to leave you, like he enjoyed being here, enjoyed being with you. Replicating what he saw on television, what the couples would do, it all felt so natural to him. The feeling of you in his arms was a wonderful thing, something he did not think he should enjoy, but he oddly did. As the movie you were watching caught his attention, he found himself wondering once more, as he replicated all these things he viewed on television with you, he had never done that. Watching the two main characters kiss, he gazed down at your face, as your head rested on his shoulder. He started to wonder if he should do it, before finally deciding to just do it, assuming you would like it, seeing how you seemed to react positively to all the other actions he has done after seeing the loving couples on television do them.

Reaching down, you felt a soft grasp on your chin, his hand easily tilting your head up to face his own. His lips first met your forehead, a gentle kiss on your forehead, it was comforting. The motion filled your stomach with butterflies, as you could feel yourself falling more and more into his embrace, falling deeper and deeper in love with the man who you knew could never love you back. His lips did not stop there, the next time you felt them on your skin was as his lips brushed against your own. Despite the rational part of your brain telling you to not react, you found your lips moving against his.

It was an odd feeling as his lips touched yours for the first time, you did not plan on forcing him to stay with you longer than necessary, yet here you were kissing him. Despite how Jo was making you feel, you just had to push that thought to the back of your mind. He was not doing this out of love, how could he love you, you were just some random person that put on his fur. He was just bonded to you, doing this out of some deep seeded need to satisfy who he was bonded to, it was nothing more than that, and would never be. Or, at least that is what you told yourself, just before you pushed yourself away from him, leaving him alone in the living room, before sulking up to your own room, to think about what you were going to do some more.

Despite how he made you feel, you pushed all those feelings aside, he did not deserve to have to live his life out here where he did not belong just because someone decided to steal him away from where he once belonged. It took months, the two of you acting like a sweet domestic couple. Cuddling throughout your time together, sharing kisses at random points throughout the day. To any onlooker, they would think you were a sweet little couple, but instead you knew this was all just to gain the trust of your mother and grandmother, gain access to his coat, and allow him to return to the sea where he belongs. But his arms start to feel like they belong around your waist, like his lips are made to be pressed against your own.

You can not say that it was an easy decision, it was not something you just decided overnight, or even over a few hours. It has been a good month or longer of you weighing the pros and cons. Pro, you felt like he really did love you, con, he might have only ‘loved’ you since you were the owner of his fur. Pro, he was nice and you loved being around him, con, he might have only been nice to you since he knew you had what was keeping him from returning to the sea. Pro, you genuinely enjoyed being around him, con, he was probably only doing what he had to do to trick you into giving his fur back. Pro, you were in love with him, con, you were in love with him.

Maybe you were too selfless for your own good, maybe you should have been selfish for once, maybe you should have taken what you wanted, rather than letting it go. You however, could not find yourself doing that, he did not belong to you, he belonged to the sea, and that is where he should be, and where he will be returning. The night before, you found yourself in his arms, it was a thing you had fought so hard against, showing him any love or any emotion. But, you found yourself feeling safe, feeling at home, as his large frame enveloped yours as you lay on the sofa in your living room with him. His lips met yours for seemingly the last time, you actually allowed yourself to get lost in the kiss, before you know it you have turned around, your arms wrapping around his neck, while his hands were against your back, pulling you closer to him. Despite your mind telling you to stop, you did not, you knew that it would make what you would be doing in the morning hurt even more, yet you could not stop. His lips slotted against yours with such perfection, like the two of you were soulmates, meant to be together. But, as badly as you wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms for the rest of your life, you knew he should not be here.

Against all your efforts, you had fallen for him, but you knew he did not belong here, he did not belong to you. It was not long before your lips finally separated from his, resting your head against his chest, he ran his hand over your back, the two of you were serene, it was peaceful in these moments. Part of you wanted this to last longer, to enjoy moments like this forever, but your mind was made up, and you were not going to change it. Before long, he was asleep, it was then you decided to get what you would need the next morning. Untwining yourself from his arms, you made your way upstairs, to the attic. You had finally gained your mother’s trust just a few weeks ago, her and your grandmother were proud of your progress, and she thought you had just accepted your fate.

The box had not been up there long enough for any dust to settle on it, compared to the rest of the items in the attic. Despite it having been up here for a month, you had not even seen the fur, seeing how your mother and grandmother forced it on you while you were asleep, you never saw it even then. As you started to pull it from the box, you noticed it was not hidden, it was not placed in secret, nor was it hidden in some back corner. Jo could have easily found it had he wanted to, that made you think that maybe he did not want to leave, maybe he wanted to stay with you, be with you, be yours. But, no, he would have taken it and ran had he found it, your mind started making up reasons for you to follow through with your plan. Pulling it from the box, you found yourself running your fingers over it, the silky shiny black fur soft to the touch. Holding it close to your chest, you realized it smelled just like him, which should not be surprising, but you still were. The fur felt like home to you, like it was supposed to be yours, like he was supposed to be with you. The thoughts and feelings of love started to fill your mind, ideas of how maybe you two were meant to be, but you killed these thoughts just as they started to fill your mind. Letting your hands drop it back into the box, you looked down at the fur, picking up the box, deciding that this was it, tomorrow you would give it back, and you would allow him to go and be free. You made your way back downstairs, placing the box under the stairs by the table, you made your way back to him. Sitting down by him, you immediately found yourself in his arms once more, as he wrapped his arms around you, clinging to you, you found yourself falling asleep.

It was not long before you awoke to a light shining in through a window, straight into your eyes. Starting to awake, you realized you were not where you fell asleep last night, seeing your bedroom rather than your living room. Jo must have woken up in the night, and carried you up to bed. Realizing this, you immediately sat up with a jerk, he had to have seen the box, he probably took the fur and ran while you slept. Despite giving it back to him being your plan, part of you hurt from the idea that he took it without even a goodbye. Those thoughts all died down, as you felt two hands grab you by your waist, before they wrapped around your stomach, pulling you back down. He had not left in the dark of the night, and he did not seem to want you to leave in the light of the day, as he held you close, going back to sleep once you were against him again.

You let him have a moment, before you sat up, turning to shake his shoulder. “Wake up,” you said, deciding to get this over with now, rather than later. Knowing yourself you would probably manage to talk yourself out of your current plan if you waited any longer. Untangling yourself from his arms, you pulled on a jacket, not even bothering to get dressed this early in the morning. “Wake up,” you said again, shaking him once more, attempting to jostle him from his slumber. “I have a surprise for you,” you added, finally getting him to wake up, sitting up, he started to wake, following you.

Starting downstairs, you could hear him talking, probably asking you something but you were so far away, you heard nothing but incoherent noises. Picking up the box, you started to walk out the door, over to the water, as Jo followed you, confused. You could once again hear him talking, but you could not make out anything he said, or maybe you just did not want to hear it, maybe you were just ignoring what he said, so he could not stop you, so he could not change your plan. Finally stopping next to the water, you turned to him, waiting for him to be closer to you before you spoke. Part of you knew you would break if you had to repeat it, you would fail and forget your plan, settling for the safety and feeling of home you found within his arms, rather than letting him return to the water. “I have something for you,” you told him, opening the box and pulling the fur out.

Confusion was on Jo’s face, this was not part of what the other selkies had told him. They claimed once taken, they would more than likely never get it back, they would have to steal it back, but here they were, just giving him his back. “What,” he started to ask, before being cut off as it was shoved into his arms. Huffing he took the item, looking into your eyes, he started to question it, “Are you sure?” The confusion evident in his voice, this wasn’t part of what he had been prepared for, part of what all the elders had told him, what he had learned about when he started to come to the land.

Nodding your head, “Just take it,” you said, forcefully shoving the fur into his chest, giving him little time to react other than to just take it. “It’s yours,” you started, your voice starting to crack, as the weight of what you were doing finally hit you, “You don’t belong here, you belong out there, and I’ll be damned if I’m the old holding you back from where you are supposed to be.” You found yourself holding back tears, you did not want to see him go, but you could not stop him, “I love you, but you’re not mine to choose to keep,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t hear you. Whether or not he heard, you did not know, as you soon felt a hand under your chin, raising your face to reach his. You found his lips against yours, returning the kiss you started to regret everything you were doing, but you knew it was right, at least that’s what you told yourself. Pulling yourself away from him, “Just go,” slipped from your lips before the more sensible part of your mind could take over. He seemed unwilling, almost like he did not want to leave, “Just go,” you repeated, as you saw the hesitation in his eyes. You both stood there for a few minutes, whispers telling him to just go fell from your lips every now and then, it was not long before he finally got the hint, and into the water he went. Fur on, he turned back into his original form, a selkie. It was only then you let the tears from your eyes fall, hoping he couldn’t see them, but unknown to you, he saw them all, the tears, the sobs that came after, but the ocean called to him as it was his home. But, within his heart, you were also his home. The weeks, he had fallen just as you had, learning that not all stories the elders tell about the humans are true.

Part of your heart aches as you watch him swim away. You start to wish you had kept the fur, you had kept him with you, you had retained the bond. Against your wishes and desires, you had started to fall for him, butterflies in your belly, blush upon your cheeks, and a blurry mind whenever you thought of him. But, as they say, if you love something you need to let it go. You could already hear your mother’s words in your head when you got back, idiot, stupid, and do not know how to appreciate what they have. In this moment, you were all the above, but most of all you were missing Jo. Which as they say, if it was meant to be, he would return to you one day, and until that one day, you would wait for him. No matter how long it took, even if he never found his way back to you again, you would never love another, and your heart would always ache for him, the one you believe is genuinely your one true love.