Poor Unfortunate Souls ~*~ [Coral feat. the Sea Witch]
@andrina-the-amazingsupergenius
There was a door in front of them--them being the two oldest Triton sisters; Attina and Andrina.
On the other side of the door was the Sea Witch.
When Attina and Andrina had been little, their father and mother (along with their uncles Apollo and Simon) had told them stories of sea witches. Scary stories, stories of warnings. They’d huddle with their cousins and listen to the legends of mermaids losing their hair, their eyes, their legs, their voices to the sea witches. These mermaids were always greedy and desperate.
The takeaway had been not to be greedy and desperate. That everything could be solved without the help of a sea witch. The sea witch was never the answer. The spell she gave you would never work the way you wanted it to. There were consequences to fixing your problems with magic.
But, Attina hadn’t had a mother to remind her of these warnings for ten years.
Attina was desperate, and she trusted a sea witch more than she trusted one of the sorcerers in town.
So, here they stood, on the sea witch’s stoop, waiting for her to answer the door after Attina had nudged Andrina into knocking. She reached down and grabbed her sister’s hand, squeezing it tightly.
The door opened. The sea witch was not as ugly as Attina imagined. In fact, she was very pretty and she looked--normal. Nothing haggard or deformed about her at all. The woman’s dark eyes swept up and down them once.
“Well, I heard there were rumors of mermaids in this town, but I didn’t expect to be greeted by them so soon. How...nice.” Her thick lips curled back over her pearly white teeth as she smiled. “Do come in, won’t you, dears?”
She stepped back and opened the door.
Attina glanced at Andrina and then stepped over the threshold in to the--rather modern-looking house, with marble floors and high ceilings. A far cry from the dark, deep caverns that sea witches lived in beneath the sea.
“Refreshments? I just put the kettle on,” she said in her softly lilted French accent, heading towards the kitchen, heels clacking along the floor.
Just a Token, Really. A Trifle. [Self-para, feat. Ursula]
In which Attina visits Ursula for a second time...
[tw -- anxiety]
Further Reading {in order}:
Poor Unfortunate Souls
#justbrothings
Two Can Keep a Secret
Attina ran. She had been walking, her eyes blurring with tears as she juggled texting Robin and her sister, but as soon as the conversation with Andrina ended, she had run. Her phone clutched in a sweaty hand. She was in a pair of heels. They made her feet blister. She could feel the thin skin peeling off with every step down. People stared as she pushed passed them on the way to the sea witch’s house. Several people--her friends, people who knew her--tried to grab her, ask if she was alright.
She wasn’t.
Her panicked thoughts allowed for nothing but the desire to fix this.
Fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it. Fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it. Fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it. Fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it. Fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it. Fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it. Fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it. Fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it. Fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it.
Her lungs were burning as she reached the sea witch’s door and she didn’t hesitate, raising her fist and pounding on the door as hard as she could. It was the middle of the day. No one was home. Attina collapsed onto the ground, her knees scraping against the concrete. She barely felt the sting. Her forehead pressed against the hot metal of the door and she sobbed, curled up there on the witch’s doorstep. Her world had suddenly been ripped open and she felt like she was falling through it. There was nothing that she could do. There was nowhere safe.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before Ursula appeared, first with the clack of heels up the walkway, and then with a sigh--her shadow falling over Attina in the late afternoon sunlight.
“What are you doing here, child?” Ursula asked, and her voice was soft.
The voice of a mother, Attina thought and that made her whimper pathetically.
“I-I need your help.”
There was a pause and Ursula sighed again. Attina heard it. It rushed out of her like a wave. Then, she leaned down and reached out a hand to touch Attina’s shoulder. She flinched, but eventually allowed Ursula to help her up and inside.
She sat in a chair, curled up on herself, like she used to sit when she was a little girl. Her mother always tutted at her to put her feet down. Ursula said nothing of the sort. She simply busied herself with making tea and setting a cauldron on the stove to boil.
When the tea was ready, she brought it to Attina, handing it to her and sitting down.
“Now, tell me what you need,” she prompted.
“I-I--someone--someone else knows,” Attina admitted after taking a sip of the hot tea. It burned going down her throat, but it helped steady her nerves. She knew she was making the right choice. No matter what Andrina said. This was how she guaranteed the safety of her sisters.
Ursula’s face was unreadable. “You want to take their memories?”
Attina nodded.
“How long have they known?”
“I-I don’t know. S-since October? O-or--somewhere b-between October a-and D-December.”
“If I don’t have an exact date...that will take more power, you understand that, correct? The price will be steeper.”
“Do what you have to do,” Attina said immediately, looking up at Ursula. She felt a surge of bravery. It was her determination--to protect her family. This was how she did that.
“Your memories.”
“Take them.”
“I don’t think you understand, my dear,” Ursula said, and if Attina was paying more attention, she’d hear the condensation that dripped through the words. “I need all of them”
“A-all of them?” The pit in Attina’s stomach opened wide, like a whirlpool, sucking everything down into it. She reeled, feeling like she was going to fall right out of her chair. She gripped the table so hard her knuckles turned chalk white. All of her memories--gone. She wouldn’t be Attina anymore. Would she even remember she was a mermaid? That she had sisters? A father? Would she remember Robin and Ella and Percy and Nala and Simba?
“The ones of your mother.”
Somehow, that was worse.
Attina made another choking sound and put a hand to her mouth. Her stomach twisted. Her head bowed and her shoulders shook. She would forget her mother. The way she smelled and the colour of her eyes. What she said to Attina when boys were being stupid: “there are plenty of fish in the sea.” She was already forgetting some things. It had been ten years since she’d heard her mother laugh, since she’d heard her sing. Or had one of her hugs.
The tears poured hot in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks like salt water rivers.
“Okay,” she said, her voice warbling, but it didn’t crack.
There was a long pause. “Okay,” Ursula agreed and she got up from the chair.
She moved about the kitchen. Attina was vaguely aware of cabinets opening and closing. She wasn’t paying attention. She was running through all of her memories of her mother, starting with the first ones. That was Aquata’s birth. She’d still been too little when the twins were born. Only two. But, with Aquata, she was four--and so excited for a new sister. She’d bounced into the room and climbed up in the bed and touched Aquata’s dark head of hair, kissed her forehead in awe.
“This is your little sister, Aquata, my tiny, you love her, don’t you?”
Oh yes, Attina had said. Her mother had been soft and warm.
She remembered every family vacation, all of them piling into the Humpback (which wouldn’t get that name for a few more years), and heading off to the beach. She remembered the glint of her mother’s tail beneath the waves. How her hair moved. Sitting on stones and making jewelry for Daddy and her sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles. She remembered her mother singing and reading her stories and tucking her in at night. Remembered her mother holding her. Her mother, there for every piano and harp recital. Always encouraging her to save the world.
“I’m ready,” Ursula said. “Come over here, child.” Her voice was once again soft.
Attina stood on shaky legs and went towards the sea witch, whose tenticles peeked from beneath her skirt and waved like cobras waiting to strike. The touch against Attina’s temple was cool and wet. She gasped, and then, it was over.
She felt--nothing.
She thought: mother. And there was nothing there. Just the word.
In a way--it was a relief. She couldn’t grieve what she didn’t miss, what she didn’t even know.
There was a slurping sound and, then, a brain coral was deposited into her hands. Just like the last time. An exact replica of the other.
“This should do it,” Ursula said, snapping her fingers.
Attina jumped slightly as the parchment and the quill appeared. She reached for it and signed her name, the ink smearing across the side of her hand.
“T-thank you,” Attina said, her voice filled with confusion. She didn’t know if she should be thanking her or not--but it felt like the right thing to do.
Ursula’s lips curled up, flashing her white teeth, her eyes as dark as caverns. “You’re welcome, my dear.”
