SEA, SWALLOW ME, remus lupin

trì deug, in the face of fear

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
in the face of fear

                           𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

  THE MERMAID TOSSES HER HAIR, golden and glittering under the moonlight, her movements inching over the stained glass window at an unhurried pace. She drags a pearly comb through it with a flourish, one slender eye cranked open to peer down at the shivering figure curled up in the baths below her. Her tittering Mermish lyrics seem to suspire around the room, a whispering ballad to usher away the silence that had blanketed the tiles before. Her language is extremely old-fashioned considering how long ago she must've been manufactured, the snippets that Cove can make out sounding nothing like the modern Mermish she's become accustomed to in her journeys through the ocean.

Thinking back on those memories causes bile to pierce her throat. She pushes them to the back of her mind and tries her hardest to focus on something else.

Bubbles foam up against the marble lip of the wide bath, sweet smelling and beautifully soft against her skin. A few long fingers of moonlight curl in through the stained glass and the restless mermaid that inhabits it, the darkness only splintered by those few strands of pale luminescence. Cove sits with her knees sealed tight to her chest and her sudsy cheek smushed atop the left one, the steam which snakes off the water leaving her flyaways to frizz up more than usual.

It had been a few days since the incident. Her concerns were raised regarding the rapidly approaching festival of Imbolc — the pagan Wheel of the Year would begin afresh on February first and Cove would forcibly change back into a seal for the duration of the sabbath, so it had dawned on her that she'd have to pluck up the courage to transform sooner rather than later in preparation for that day.

Her skin was already beginning to dry up, so it was really only a matter of time before she took the plunge. She hadn't found it in herself to try until now.

Remus had given her the password to the Prefect's bathroom in honour of her privacy, urging her to face her fears and challenge the water head on, even if it wasn't from a totally natural source just yet. Baby steps and all.

She sinks into the bubbles until she's submerged up to her cheekbones, taking in the scent of calendula and rose as her breathing adapts to her underwater environment. Her eyes flutter closed while the warmth spreads over her flesh, her head fully dipping under when she grows accustomed to the sensation.

Her throat begins to constrict. The scalding, too-hot water suddenly feels cool against her flesh, raising prickly goosebumps and making the hair on her forearms stand on end.

Cove sits back up with a gasp, hands creeping to seize her seashell necklace in distress. It buzzes against her skin with an unusual surge of energy, shimmering betwixt her thumb and index finger. The opulent pearls threaded onto the chain are laden with droplets, crystalline and icy despite the feverish heat of the water surrounding her. It's as if the effect of her thick skin is irrelevant when a shiver courses through her, a bloodletting chill scampering down her spine at the sloshing of the bath.

No, it can't be the temperature. She's just out of her comfort zone. The water hardly feels like a friend to her anymore.

Her head turns to the side, seeking out the comfort of her real, tangible friends who are posted near the bath to keep an eye on her. Mary's caramel curls are pulled up into an updo to reveal an expression of concern, secured in place by a dusty pink scarf that matches the soft pyjama set she has on. On the other hand, Fallon is a mess of yesterday's smudged makeup, tangled bed head and a graphic t-shirt that's far too big for her, her tartan pyjama bottoms sporting several sewn up holes from how worn they truly are.