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Magpie leaned in the doorframe of a red roofed house in Thorum Mare, looking at the afternoon bustle of the city. Look at them, staying more than a month in a city. Who'd've thought. Behind them was Sabine, cooking a bounty of snacks for when her kids come home, and Magpie's flock too, they suppose. Most of their flock had taken a shine to Sabine and her home immediately, a few sharing the roof under her head, and the rest set up by Sabine somewhere else. Magpie still roosted at night outside the city walls, the last holdouts who roosted with them gradually moved within. Even Gull, who Magpie never expected to leave, eventually found a place near the docks so she could fish in the morning. If any of the flock asked why Magpie still stayed outside the city they would say something about the city walls being too close or the wards being too much for them to stretch his wings. If any of the older kids asked, maybe they would be more honest and admit to some residual trauma and mistrust around cities. And that was true, but it wasn't the only reason.
Magpie sighed and turned around, gazing inward at the house–no, home in front of them, Sabine still flitting about the kitchen. They could see the love and care that went into crafting and maintaining such a place, had heard from Cat and Oscar and countless others about its magick and love. It had saved so many people, she had saved so many people, and more than that given them a family. And roof over their heads and food and clothes. All that, and a mother.
Hum came running into the kitchen. "Hey Magpie!" Then, turning to Sabine, "I saw the most amazing paintings in the market today! How do they get the colors so bright? They were painting the city, and the rings, just like it looks when we're flying!"
"Oho!" Sabine said, sliding over a tray of freshly baked peach pastries to Hum. "I'm glad you enjoyed them so much, I have a friend in the city who could help get you some of those bright paints you like so much. Would you like to see his studio perhaps?"Hums eyes glowed and he nodded. "Well maybe we should pay him a visit sometime no? Why don't you enjoy the rest of the afternoon and see if you don't see anything else you like hmm?"With that, Hum grabbed a peach pastry and ran out, but not before shouting over his shoulder, "Thanks Maman!"
Magpie's feathers would have ruffled at that had they been out. The two hadn't spoken much, beyond first introductions and whenever Clementine came around, and even less now that she was off with those nuns. Despite seeing each other daily since their arrival, Magpie and Sabine had exchanged only a handful of words in private. Magpie simply hadn't reached out. It wasn't that they were avoiding Sabine. Or that they were jealous of the attention the flock paid her. Well, maybe a little.
"Magpie," they were startled out of their thoughts by a voice and gentle look, "would you like some pastries?"
Magpie looked at the woman before them, and it felt like looking at all of their failures, of everything they'd ever wanted to be but never could. Everything their flock needed them to be. They'd only been here a month and already so many of them clung to her, called her Maman, and found so much from her and her home that Magpie had never been able to give. Magpie thought of all the times they'd had to move from place to place, for fear of shards and the like, and wondered if they needed to run every time. Or if Magpie made them. Had they secretly worried the flock would find something like this and not need them anymore? They hoped not. Ugly feelings settled in their chest.
"No thanks on the pastries, though I'm sure there mighty delicious."
Sabine set the pastries down and crossed over towards Magpie. "Now I know I am an excellent cook but usually my food does not bring people to tears until after they've eaten it," she said gently and offered them a small handkerchief.
Magpie brought their hand to their face and it came away wet."Huh, how 'bout that?" Magpie began to turn to leave, "Your cooking didn't offend, promise. But i don't want to bother you, seems rather unmannerly, so I can make my exit."
"None if that now, why don't you take a seat, I can make you some tea or–"
"Really I'd better go, thank you ever so much for the offer."
"Magpie, why don't you stay? You can tell me what's wrong and maybe I can help–"
"No! I don't need any of your tea or pastries or flock-stealing or child-rearing mothering shit!" The words came spilling out of their mouth before Magpie could stop them. Keeping quiet had never been one of their strong suits.
Sabine paused for a moment, looking at first angry and then softening to something Magpie could not quite place. "Well you don't have to have anything. But what is all this I hear about flock-stealing?"
Magpie sat down and shame that painted their face. Rare as it was, they found themselves at a loss for words for a few moments before finally saying, "They just love you so much, is all, and they're right to. You've given them so much." Magpie stopped and took a shuddering breath. "So much that I couldn't."
"I expected much from you Magpie, but foolishness...this was not one of them"
"But it's true," Magpie said, with more conviction, "they never had a roof over their heads as long as they do now, sure there were places we'd come back to, but at the end of the day we'd always have to move. I did my best but sometimes we went without food, people were always growin and in need of more clothes and shoes and the like. But now look at them! Hums even got a new paint set that I didn't even need to filch! You've been more of a mother to them than most of their right and proper ones."
"And you have not?" Maman countered, firmly but not unkindly. "Many of them would not be here today were it not for you."
"And what about the ones that would have been huh?" What about Sparrow? "If I were better they would still be alive!" It came out more aggressively than they had meant it, and hung in the air between them.
"You don't think I've lost kids of my own?" Sabine says after a while, the hint of a challenge in her voice. "I am not a perfect mother."
Magpie folded their arms around themself and doubled over, near as they could while sitting at the table and they began to make choked little gasps. Tears fell slowly down Sabine's face, unbidden. "I wish I could tell you that it gets easier, but it does not. At least I have not known it to. I can tell you that it was not your fault, that you did all you could, and all the things others have told me, but I know you would believe none of it." She placed a hand tentatively on their back.
Magpie rocked in their chair, "I just wanted to keep them safe, to keep them all safe."
"And for those you did keep safe, you did more than that. You taught them to fly, you treated them with respect, you put them before yourself at every opportunity. All they do is speak of you and it is always with love and gratitude. You didn't just keep them alive, you gave them a life."
Magpie shook and shook. "They needed more, they should have had more. They're just kids, they're just kids, they're just kids..." They repeated it like a mantra.
Sabine's heart broke and she began to cry more freely. "Yes, they are. But even after all you have done for them, all the responsibility and heartbreak you have shouldered, so are you." Sabine looked down at Magpie, really looked at them, and didn't see a roguish wanderer, a witch, a thief, a savior, protector, or any of the other things that many saw. She saw a child, even if they were a handful of summers past their 18th. They were just a lost child, trying their best in a world far bigger and meaner than it should be. Beyond that, Sabine saw herself, a younger, more vulnerable part of herself, but one she carried with her all the same.
Magpie sat up as best they could, wringing their hands. "I'm sorry I said those things. I'm just, not used to this," Magpie gestured around the room, "not having to take care of everyone."
Sabine new all too well, thinking about Oscar and Catherine growing and needing her help less and less. "It is hard. But sometimes it is ok to let someone else help you."
Magpie wiped their face in their sleeve in a decidedly improper fashion. "Maybe I will take a pastry then," their voice still shaky, but now they wore the faintest hint of a smile.
Magpie stayed and talked with Sabine the rest of that night. It was true, that the wards made their feathers itch under their skin, but more than that, it was true that growth takes time. Sabine understood when Magpie made their excuses and stood to leave. But before they did, Magpie turned and said, "Thank you, for everything. For me and my flock. I'll see you tomorrow," and after a moment, "Goodnight Maman." They erupted into a mass of purple feathers and flew into the night.