Four and One: Fiona

[starlightsaoirse]

One.
There was a fragrance to her, part ocean air, part something else he couldn’t quite identify.
The first time Oisín had shared a table at the coffee shop with Fiona, he had caught a whiff of an intoxicating scent: something light and airy, salty like sea air, combined with something vaguely tropical. He’d been so distracted by it that he’d had a hard time following the conversation. Every time they were together, he found excuses to invade her space, just to inhale deeply, breathing in that fragrance—okay, maybe not just for that purpose, but it was one of his top motivations.
Eventually, after sharing her bed and her shower, Oisín had learned that the wild oceanic scent of sea spray was all her. The tropical notes he’d picked up on, however, were the result of coconut-scented bath products.

Two.
She seemed, to him, to be afraid of nothing. She handled every unfathomable thing the fae world was throwing at her, from Charlie to the púca to Cúchulainn, with grace. Even the fact that the ruler of the Unseelie Court had taken interest in her did little to shake her.
That was why, when Oisín heard Fiona screaming like a banshee in her bathroom, where she had been changing over laundry, he sprinted to her, his heart in his throat, terrified of what he would find.
Fiona had barricaded herself, fully clothed, in the bathtub, hiding behind the shower curtain, and was pointing at something between the toilet and the vanity.
“Kill it, kill it, kill it!” she shrieked.
He glanced down and saw a tiny little spider, peeking out from behind the garbage can.

Three.
You never got in the way of Fiona’s coffee addiction. Oisín learned that by the third time he met her in the coffee shop. There was a reason, he learned, that she studied there so often.
He’d smiled brightly at her, as she’d entered, only to become slightly concerned as he took note of her slumped shoulders, hands shoved in her hoodie pocket, and the warning glare in her eyes. She walked by him without comment—he’d even been sure to acquire one of the larger tables, so she could spread out her things and work, if need be—and headed straight to the counter. Her friend that worked there simply smiled indulgently at her, saying nothing, and presented her with the drink he’d begun making as soon as she entered the door. It was only after she took a sip that the tension in her shoulders eased, her facial expression relaxed, and she smiled.
Oisín realized, belatedly, every other time he’d met her there, it had been in the afternoon. This was the first time they’d met first thing in the morning.
Perhaps he was being a bit presumptuous, but that afternoon, he went out and purchased a coffee pot for his apartment, and several kinds of ground coffee.

Four.
She had surrounded herself with the ocean. Selkie’s child that she was, it should have been no surprise. Even without knowing the truth of her origins, she had filled her home with reminders of the sea. Walls in her flat were painted varying shades of ocean blue and sea green, accented with borders and accessories in shades of sand and stone. Scented candles in similarly varying colors were present in each room, with names like “Seaspray,” “Beach Walk,” “Sun and Sand,” “Ocean Air.” Glass bowls and vases, filled with sand, held arrangements of shells, collected in her travels. He couldn’t imagine the thoughts her father must have had—amusement? pain? longing?—when he saw the way she’d surrounded herself with her mother’s natural habitat.
But then, Oisín supposed, he understood. As long as it meant he got to keep her, he would buy her as many scented candles or bring her as many seashells as she desired. As long as she would stay.

And One.
He was absolutely, hopeless drawn to her, from the first time he saw her in that coffee shop.
They figured out, early on, that she drew fae creatures to her, with her unique blood and blend of power. When she’d stood at the convergence of all those ley lines, they had all felt it, and so many had, consciously, begun to gravitate toward her, even to the point of crossing the Atlantic to be in her presence.
That was not why Oisín felt like she had stolen something from him from that first day, however.
He had been attracted to her beauty, entranced by her smile, entertained by her conversation, and by the time he had her laughing, that lovely musical sound, he knew he was lost—and he wouldn’t have changed that for anything.

Comments

[discursive]

i maybe just made a noise of high-pitched glee. I LIKE IT. he seems just a little hopeless about her. :)

[starlightsaoirse]

haha. he is, a bit. fi is less so, more level headed, more rational -- i'm trying to write another one of these, about him, from her perspective, and it's harder. but that's exactly why i'm writing them -- i've got to get into their heads and figure them--and their dynamic--out.

working on it!