Deep ((closed to Siren))

[Zander Bastiaan]

STOP If you're sensitive or stupid or whatever, please stop reading, there is mature content ahead not meant for easily offended eyes.

Thanks,
management

P.S. That means lotsa sex!


If there was anywhere he called “home” it was Talmhaidh. Well, after Rhapsody of course. But then he had spent so much time on his father’s much-loved ship, that she was beyond home, she was family. After Rhapsody though, Talmhaidh was the place he felt most at ease. Perhaps it was because it was a seaside town, or maybe because the Fae were more amused than annoyed by foreigners, or it could it have been because the merfolk were in and out of the inns as though they belonged there too.

Of course they never so much as glanced at him, or if they did, he supposed they weren’t going to deign to notice this half-breed who looked so plain beside them. It didn’t bother him; he watched them, wondering if any of them were his mother or if he had any siblings. He knew nothing of his maternal family, only that she was a mermaid with dark hair, gold skin, and eyes that changed colors with the moods of the sea.

There were no mermaids at the pub on this night, not that he saw anyway. A pretty girl was making eyes at him as she sang about love and the sea and heartbreak and a lost sailor. He winked at her indulgently, and smiled as she started into a new song about the eyes of her love being like the sea, her cheeks flushing. Zander was quite certain the pink flush had nothing to do with the warmth of the fire that burned cheerily behind the singer.

He’d seen her here before, and recalled that her name was Ella and she was the daughter of a local merchant. Last time he’d been to this place, she’d been singing then too. They'd seen each other in passing and chatted here and there. One evening after a performance she’d approached him and talked to him for hours until he’d finally caved and taken her back to his room with him. She’d been convinced she was in love with him. The girl was sweet and honest, and probably honestly thought she loved him by choice and not simply because of his nature. Zander knew better, and in some ways it broke his heart. The next morning he knew what he had to do.

Apparently though, leaving her before dawn and returning to the sea had not left her bitter; she still remembered him fondly. Sighing reluctantly, he nodded recognition. He could not of course let it continue. For now though he’d enjoy her sweet voice and the cool bitterness of the ale as it slid down his throat, and later he would worry about trying to break her heart easily. Or at least try to convince her that he couldn’t love her back even if he did enjoy spending the night with her.

[Siren]

Siren stood at the bow of the little merchant schooner, hanging on to a rope and letting the spray hit her face. Merely an hour before, the smell of land had filtered in to interrupt the salt air, and now Talmhaidh pulled them nearer to its merry docks with every swell of a wave beneath them.

Warm Dheath wind caught in the half-mer's multi-hued hair, flicking red locks, twirling kelp green tresses, batting deep blue coifs and tugging at violet strands. Her big, bright eyes, normally a placid silver, were shifting toward an excited bright blue. She loved being out at sea; that was where she belonged. But there was something special about the hustle and bustle of port, something in the runnings around of merchants squabbling for wares that made her giddy...and of course, her favorite part of all: getting into a new tavern to drink something stronger than grog and finding someone she'd never met before to spend the night with.

It wasn't long before the ship was docked and tied down, and before the sun sank completely below the horizon, the sailors were paid for a job well done and set loose to do their debauchery. There were the usual pats on the ass and gropings, of course, but she'd already sexed up the men she'd wanted on board and was ready to experience the new.

The instant Siren's boots left the gangplank and set down on the pier, her lips curled up into a smile. It wasn't so far to the brothel where she'd once spent a few months as a prostitute, and she had some fun memories from that. On the whole, though, the job had been unfulfilling, and she'd left. The rest of Talmhaidh had often offered her entertainment and pleasure; the Fae were a good-natured, fun-loving people, and any little oddities from any heritage were welcomed as something unique at worst, and fascinating at best.

No question about it...gotta love coming back to Dheathain every once in a while.

Her well-worn boots soon led her to a cheery tavern where the men milled about and the mead flowed freely. Near the hearth sang a pretty human wench whose nut-brown hair curled in shining waves around a face that spoke of enraptured innocence. Her eyes, blue as a river in the spring, were trained on a young man with a handsome face and a body to match.

Her words were laughable, she'd probably written the song herself, caught up in that emotion that humans seemed to strive so hard to attain but found slippery as a hagfish...and sometimes just as vile. With a soft chuckle, Siren stepped toward the girl, taking the chance to interrupt at a break in her song.


"Oh love is handsome, and love is fine,
The brightest jewel when it is new...
But love grows old, and waxes cold
And fades away, as the morning dew."

The sea-child's voice rang out powerfully, crashing over the girl's song like a wave over sand, disrupting her melody. It moved like the sea, with power and a violent beauty, only to fade into a calm nothing at the end.

By the time her verse ran out, Siren was directly in front of the girl, and she reached out, putting a hand under her chin. "A pretty young thing like you, if she really believes in such a thing as love, should probably go find it somewhere other than a bar."

She leaned in and gave the girl a firm kiss on the lips, much to the delight of the male patrons. A cheer went up, and Siren pulled back, grinning at the reddening cheeks of the younger girl. Her eyes, which had been a more serious gray, had shifted to an amused amethyst. The embarrassed human looked at the man she'd been singing to, but took his quietly amused grin as mockery, and fled amidst the hoots.

The wench left standing grabbed a pint and walked over to the table where the young man sat, plopping herself down in the chair across from him and dropping her belongings in a heap at her side. Even in the low light, she could see the faint gill-lines that identified him as a member of the coastal merfolk tribes, and her grin widened, masked by a pull from her mug.

"Girls, eh? Sleep with 'em once and they're convinced it's you and them forever."

Lyrics taken from traditional melody "The Water is Wide."

[Zander Bastiaan]

Her song, which was lovingly penned, if not as creative or harmonically pleasing as one might have hoped, reached its climax and Ella took a breath before finishing, her bright eyes lighting on his face again. Zander tried to detach himself, looking away and taking a swig of his ale, but looked up with a gasp of surprise when a shining soprano voice rang out over the sweet and simple melody Ella had been singing. This voice was strong, pulling at him like the tide drew a ship, driving its truth into his heart like the waves against a cliff face. It was the same truth he’d known for nearly 10 years now - love was a farce and a game, and even the so-called “true love” never lasted.

When the striking creature stopped singing - she had to be merfolk, but yet she wasn’t quite like the others he had seen here - she made a bawdy comment and then grabbed the girl and kissed her soundly. Zander allowed a smile to curve the corners of his mouth gently, although he knew as Ella stared at him with flaming cheeks and horrified tears that his amusement seemed to her to be at her expense. She ran from the pub sobbing as men jeered behind her, patting her assailant on the backside graciously. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about how to keep from taking her to his bed again.

Zander sighed as Ella let the door slam behind her, the lanterns flickering a bit in her wake, and looked back startled when the soprano sat down across from him with a grin. He smiled back politely, his eyes surveying her face before flickering downward for a moment. Her lewd comment was inappropriate maybe, but not altogether inaccurate.

“I suppose that is a fact,” he agreed quietly, “Perhaps I shouldn‘t take advantage of them so.”

He only let the sarcasm sit for a moment before catching her gaze and grinning, once again looking over her face. Yes, she was certainly something beyond human, and he was almost certain she was of the sea. But she was not like him - her hair was an unnatural blend of the deepest shades of the sea, colors that made his heart ache in their accuracy to the shadows of the deep. And her eyes had changed their color at least three times since she’d blown in like a hurricane off the coast. How many times had his own strange gaze frightened even his father? But while this woman’s eyes seemed to change with HER mood and intent, Zander’s acted more as a warning to coming changes to the sea. The crew often knew well in advance that they were in danger of a hurricane, or that they would soon be facing weeks of sunny skies and still seas stuck without winds to sail on.

“Of course, I’m not a saint,” his voice was even lower and he looked around as though admitting a secret, “I’ll just have to take better care not to stick around and let them make up love songs about me I suppose. I'm Zander Bastiaan - I was mesmerized by your amazing performance earlier. Although you probably dashed Ella‘s chances of ever making a single copper here again.”

[Siren]

"If it's money she wants here, I don't do encores, and I'm only here tonight...if that long." Siren grinned. Her eyes had been fading back to silver, but they now switched back to the rich purple of amusement. "But if it's something else she wants...good girls don't look for romance in a tavern."

She leaned back in her chair, letting her shirt catch in such a way that the thin cotton fabric pulled itself taut over her well-endowed figure. She had eyes on her; she knew that. Everywhere she went her exotic looks turned heads, and her generous curves made sure they didn't turn away. For now, however, she held off on granting any of her attention to potential bedmates - the man who sat across from her was something so rare she'd never seen one before, save in mirrors.

Halfbloods were taboo in merfolk communities. Some species didn't want to corrupt the bloodline, some were worried about the fitness of the offspring. In her native pod, her dark hair had made her noticeable to predator and landman alike...and they didn't like being known by the landmen. Aside from that, when a bastard halfbreed reached majority, they lost their fluke and developed legs. They were slower, tired sooner, and couldn't hold their breath as long. Unfit.

She didn't know the intricacies of the coastal mer taboos regarding her kind...but she could guess from his clothes and the subtle movements of his shoulders that he had grown up among humans. The coastals came ashore more often, more readily copulated with humans, and they had gills. Since he had gills, she was willing to wager that whichever parent had belonged to the sea belonged to one of the groups that lingered not far from Talmhaidh.

Her eyes had turned a deep indigo while she studied him, and a strong, slender finger tapped against the cold metal of her mug.

"I'm Siren," she finally thought to introduce herself. "Which parent was it?" Her eyes flashed a coral challenge for information, and she leaned forward, setting her elbows on the smooth top of the grimy wooden table. "Which one..." She reached out, tracing a fingertip right below his lowest gill line.

"Which one gave you the sea?"

[Zander Bastiaan]

Zander’s forehead creased in a frown, insulted on Ella’s behalf. She WAS a good girl. He knew she hadn’t come to the pub looking for love, only a few extra coins to supplement her father’s income since her mother died. They’d talked about their family and money and politics and religion and so many other things in the hours before dawn, and then he’d let her walk up to his room with him where they’d let things go further. When they’d finished, he knew before she even whispered it that she thought she loved him.

“I think you’ve misunderstood the situation there,” was all he told the woman who relaxed across from him now, deciding that the story was really best left untold.

Her body was near perfect. Curved and soft where a woman’s should be, and hard with muscle where a swimmer’s must be. Zander raised an appreciative eyebrow, his eyes lingering on the darkness of her nipples that showed through the sheerness of her shirt, knowing this was the reaction the woman desired.

What took him off guard was the question that followed her introduction. It shouldn’t have - if he’d recognized her, then it was no surprise that she would know him for merfolk. But how did she see that he was a half-breed? He shivered at her light touch - his hair was cut long enough that few even noticed the subtle gills that hid behind his ears.

“My father gave me the sea,” he answered her in a pained voice, “But I don’t think that’s what you were asking. My mother was… or I suppose still is a mermaid.”

The sailor had never seen his mother before, only knew what his father had told him of her. She had abandoned him at a nearby inn in hopes that his father would return to care for him. Fortunately for Zander, she had been right. When he was old enough to ask why he had no mother, and fully understand that she was gone, it had started a long bitterness that he’d never quite grown out of. His father insisted his mother had loved both of them, and must have been doing whatever was best for them. He still doubted the truth of his father’s claim.

“Haven’t seen her since she left me here in Talmhaidh though,” he admitted bitterly, “I suppose I’m lucky she managed to have me about the time my father decided to return for a visit. I’d ask if you were her, but obviously you’re much too young and look nothing like he described her.”

He leaned back in his chair and finished off his ale, raising his tankard to the barkeep who quickly provided a full one. No longer were his eyes on Siren, no matter her beauty, the thoughts of his mother and her betrayal had left him cold and angry. It was her fault he’d never know love, and yet she’d never even seen him.

[Siren]

"It'd be awfully hard for a Cetatic halfbreed to birth a Coastal halfbreed. And I'm pretty sure I've never had a brat of my own." Siren shifted her shoulders to emphasize the unmarred shape of the breasts her shirt could cover, but never conceal. Her eyes flickered violet for a moment, but quickly faded back down to silver.

His body language shifted as tellingly as her eye color did. He was closed off now, angry, bitter. Likely at his mother or her pod. It was an anger she couldn't understand. She'd been raised by her mother, in the pod, for a while. It was her father she'd never met. But when she was a child, she'd had the support of her entire extended family, even if she was the obviously inferior taboo child.

The half-mer's eyes sifted through the drunkards that were available. A couple had their heads half buried in the bosoms of wenches, some were so drunk that they'd pass out before they even had their pants off, and the rest didn't have a good enough physique for her to bother. Then there was Zander, neither too drunk nor ugly, another outcast taboo halfbreed - one that had been raised among the humans. He had human values, human emotions. He seemed to want what they wanted; he'd very nearly been angry with her for her remarks about that flip of a girl she'd sent running out of the bar.

Her head turned toward a window. A large pearl moon shone in all its fullness, floating in a velvet blue sky and surrounded by little diamond stars. All of a sudden, the din of the tavern, its scents of sweaty men, stale ale, and intoxicating smoke felt claustrophobic. She'd much rather be out in the free air.

"Your mother did what was best for you, you know. As harsh as the sea can be to her lovers, she positively coddles them compared to how she treats her children." She turned her face back to Zander, brushing back a stray lock of hair that fell over tanned ivory skin. "You and I, we'd never have survived so well in her embrace as we have on her surface." Her voice, still as melodic as waves breaking against the shore, had taken a serious tone, hers was the voice of experience.

Then she shrugged. "Then again, I know little of Coastal culture. Perhaps, so close to shore, she is a gentle mother." With a final pull on her mug, Siren set it on the table and bent down to pick up her stuff.

"Barkeep! A bottle of your best brandy." She paid her tab and grabbed her bottle. Brandy was her beverage of choice. It was sweet without rum's cloying properties, it had some of whiskey's burn without being sour, and it could get her drunk enough without giving her a hangover in the morning, unlike ale. Ale was so weak comparatively that she wound up drinking more than was good for her.

She threw a wink at Zander. "The night has its own siren call...and who am I to say no to such a moon?" With that, she stepped out into the inky darkness, hips swaying as she went.

[Zander Bastiaan]

Zander forced his face to relax, the crease in his brow smoothing although the hurt never quite left his eyes, which at the moment reflected a the same silver-gilt of moonlit waves. Siren obviously hadn’t meant to upset him, and he couldn’t blame her for her curiosity, the same thoughts had been going through his head. He didn’t realize there were different kinds of merfolk, but he supposed it made sense if one knew the patterns of the sea.

“I don’t doubt the way the merfolk treat their bastards,” Zander agreed, “I’ve seen the way they look at me when a group crosses my path. And we’ve all heard the stories. My mother was just one of many. Maybe she did love my father - but she should never have given him the chance to … love her.”

He cast his eyes to the floor, studying the grain of the wooden planks, angry once again. This time though, it was at himself. Had he not allowed the same thing to happen with Ella? And what if he had gotten her with child - his heart raced for a brief moment as he remembered whether she had seemed different. No, she had not been pregnant as she sang her heart out to him, thankfully, and she would be showing by now, several months after their last encounter. But it could have happened.

For a moment he didn’t even realize that the creature had decided to leave, and as he watched her saunter away with a bottle of her choice of booze he decided not to let her go alone. Her wink and sultry comment that he’d almost missed were obviously an invitation to follow, and at least with her Zander could be fairly certain there would be no false hopes of love and marriage.

He waved the barkeep over who happily took a few coins in exchange for a bottle of whiskey. Zander took off after her, finding her just down the street and headed in the direction of the beach.

“Care for some company?” the sailor asked, as he strolled up behind her, looking down onto the colors the moon revealed in her dark hair.

[Siren]

"Sure, I'd like some company." Siren grinned, uncorking her brandy and taking a deep swig, feeling the warmth writhe down her throat. "But life's too short to go through it angry, so I hope you left that in your chair."

She looked up at the moon, her silver eyes reflecting the pearly luminescence. Her face softened a little. "I was thirteen before I lost my fluke and needed to find a life on the surface. I was taken in by a sailor, a captain of a ship. It was about noon when I met them, and the night was very much like this. He talked so much that I almost had language down by the time the moon was this high.

"He was always one for the poetic...at least, in the three years I knew him. On nights like this, he'd always say 'We ride upon the rolling waves, seeking treasures fine. We live mainly for the glitter of gold, and the warmth of wine. But sometimes, when the moon be full, and all the stars aglow, and softly the sapphire waves do break upon the bow, that's when I am 'minded most, these be greatest treasures all.'"

They had wandered away from the town by the time she finished her recitation, onto the beach, and she kicked off her boots, tucking them into her satchel and walking barefooted upon the coarse sands, dampened by the tide. "Captain Jack made it easier to adjust to life on the surface. Merfolk, all breeds, are social creatures. His crew became my second pod. I drank with them, learned from 'em...lost my virginity to his son, Landen, when I was fifteen and he was seventeen."

She took another pull of her brandy, swirling the liquor in the bottle, contemplatively. "Then, not even a year later, we were hit by a storm. Ship was lost...and so was everyone else. Buuuuut...that's just how life goes. You're here one minute, gone the next. Gotta make the most out of it."

[Zander Bastiaan]

They walked along together, the moonlight casting shadows down on them between the buildings that led down to the beach. Zander drank frequently from his bottle, nursing the hurt within as he listened to Siren tell her own story. It was a distraction from his own, but familiar in an odd way.

Almost at the same moment they both removed their boots, the instinctual need to feel the sand on bare feet manifesting itself in the halfbreeds. He grinned at her, his white teeth shining in the moonlight. He let the boots hang over his shoulder by the leather thongs that kept them laced up.

“Sounds pretty traumatic,” he mused, “I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to lose them like that. Especially the captain’s son, since you obviously loved him.”

Ahead of them were cliffs that rose up from the shore that curved gently into the harbor, a dark mass that stabbed into the deep purple of the night sky, although the waves dashed themselves into white foam against the rocks below. He aimed their steps towards the shadows there.

“I was always on the same ship, raised by my father and his crew,” he shared quietly, “Mostly the same men, although as usual there were those that came and went. No girls to fall in love with though.”

The bottle slowly getting closer to empty, and he was more loose lipped than usual. It took a little bit of concentration on his feet not to stumble on the sand as it occasionally rose up beneath him like an ocean swell. He was starting to get a bit drunk.

[Siren]

"Hey now, I may be drunk, but not drunk enough to say love. Love, you see...this is very human. And...ummm...who else believes in it? Elves. Elves like love. You kind of have to expect it from them, though...their ears are pointy." She was slurring a little bit; her bottle was nearing empty as well, and she was feeling a pleasant buzz.

"I'm not human. I spent my first part of life in the water. With the mermaids. And the fishies. There are lots of fishies in the sea. Tasty ones, not so tasty ones...ones that bite...and octopuses. Octopuses are weird as HELL. Can't just swim like the rest of us, noooo, they have these arm tentacle things. And suckers. I was swimming one time, and one of them put its arm on my ass, and I had a octopus hickey there for like a week. I have a nice ass, but it's not one for anything that doesn't have HANDS. Like this. See? A palm, four fingers and a thumb. And starfish don't count."

She held up her own hand, waving it briefly to make sure he knew what she was talking about. "But what were we talking about again?"

"Your love." Zander grinned. Apparently Siren was the type of drunk who, if you got her going on one topic, could wind up at a different one without warning.

"Right, right. Now, I don't know how it worksh with the Coastals, or even with the Cetatic who are raised by THEIR human parent - their mother. Halfbloods always get raised by their mothers. And whoever else the mother can get for help. Love....love means...h'mmm..."

A thoughtful frown creased Siren's face; she'd always lived as she saw fit and didn't bother with defining such trifles as emotion. What felt good felt good, so that's why she did it, what didn't feel good or in some way rewarding wasn't worth her time. She liked constant change, so she was rarely in the same place twice, and only bedded the same man more than one consecutive night if he had been a particularly good lay. But love...what did love mean?

"Love is like an octopus. It grabs hold of you and gnaws and chews until it's completely devoured you. It binds and holds and you only think you're happy with one because of the sex, but sex is sex, and it doesn't matter. Love makes you only see one. And if you can't see anything else...here. It's like...say you think...clam shells are pretty." She bent down and picked one up, putting it in his hand.

"And you decide, 'I like clam shells, I'll keep on only picking up clam shells the rest of my life.' Okay, well, clam shells are nice and all, but then you miss out on the swirly ones, and the pointy ones, and the trumpets, and...oh! These ones!" She picked up a conch shell and held it to his ear, letting him hear the breaking of the tide within the shell. "You miss out on everything else. There's too many other shells in the world to dedicate yourself to the clam shells."

Zander chuckled. "You're circumventing the point. You still loved him."

"Dammit, I did not love him." Siren drained the last of the brandy from her bottle and tossed it for someone else to collect. "Landen was a lot of fun and we were pretty close, but love is so damn pointless I can't feel it and I can't understand why humans bother with it and why the hell are you obsessed with it? Love is the downfall of too many people, and didn't do jack shit for the rest."

[Zander Bastiaan]

Bemusedly, the sailor sat down on a rock. Partially because he was drunk and swaying a bit more than was comfortable, but mostly because the lass had stopped walking forward and was pacing in little circles that left her footprints in confused whirls in the sand. It looked like she had been chasing the very thoughts she spoke out loud.

Mostly he had no idea what she was talking about, although he was pretty sure the proper term if there was more than one octopus was octopi. She ranted and sermonized, requiring a little bit of help to stay on topic. And the more the wench insisted she hadn’t loved this captain’s son, the more Zander was sure she lied, even to herself, about her feelings.

"You're circumventing the point. You still loved him,” he laughed finally, very aware that her steps had brought her so close to him to let him listen to the waves in the conch shell. Her reaction was the clincher for him. Obviously she’d been quite hurt by her loss, it didn’t require sobriety to be apparent.

“Siren,” he said slowly, trying to keep from slurring his words as she had, “If you can’t feel love, then how do you describe it so well? If you can’t feel love, then why does it scare you so to think about it? Love is supposed to make you not see anything else. That’s how you know…”

Finishing his bottle off, he tossed it in the direction of hers. It hit a rock and shattered, leaving green shards to bury themselves in the sand. Hopefully nobody was brave enough to walk barefoot there. He certainly wasn’t.

“Your problem is, you had the clam shell - or the conch shell, or trumpet, whatever - you held it in your hands and saw every perfection of it, and every flaw. And now, no other shell will be the same again for you. But you blame that shell for it, because he’s gone now,” Zander frowned, and grabbed her hand, pulling her down toward him, a little harder than he meant to.

He wasn’t quite sure what he meant, or where he was going with it, but it had made sense in his head. And he knew it was true, somewhere in his heart he believed it, even if he knew, just as she did that the reality of the love a mer could feel being returned by choice rather than magic was nigh impossible.

[Siren]

His calloused hand closed around the smooth skin of her wrist, and at his yank, she stumbled, falling into his lap. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek, smell the whiskey he'd consumed. Ordinarily, that would be her cue to start returning a seduction, but here and now, she didn't like that a stranger was trying to tell her what was in her own heart.

"Yes, he's gone, and even if he wasn't dead, I wouldn't have seen him in years anyway." She didn't know that for sure; she'd latched on to Captain Jack and his crew as a substitute pod, a second family. It was rare for a Cetatic mer - porpoise or dolphin - to separate from their pod unless extreme circumstances forced it. Maybe she'd still be on the Storm Child, maybe she'd still share Landen's hammock on a regular basis...but maybe she'd have decided that for his sake, to keep him from fully succumbing to that human flaw called love, she'd have left, abandoning him to his temporary heartache and letting him live free of her inability to feel for him the way he felt for her.

It just wasn't who she was, and her eyes darkened in anger at Zander's presumption.

"A shell is just a shell. A man is just a man. There are millions of shells on hundreds of beaches and millions of men in thousands of taverns. You care about love, about finding one, you're bitter that you can't because you are not human. Love is human. You don't know what it is to be mer, and so you want that human part. But I've watched humans, I've seen how horrible a thing it is, how devastating, how fickle, how horribly beautiful and just horrible. Life is too short to be trapped in the fish net."

She stood up, stumbling a little over her own feet and nearly landing back in his lap. Righting herself quickly, she pulled her hand out of his. "Stop trying to tell me what I feel or felt or could feel, because I can't. You don't know me. You're not me. And the sooner you let go of these damn fool notions that love is good for you, the happier you'll be."

She started walking away from him, moonlight shining on her skin and hair. Cliffs jutted up from the waterside not far from where they were, and she wanted to feel the spray on her face once more, to feel the kiss on her face and hair, the teasing promise and thinly-veiled threat that was the way of her mother, her mistress, the mystery and majesty she shared with so many others all over the world.

[Zander Bastiaan]

The intention hadn’t been for her to end up in his lap, and he swallowed hard at the girl’s warmth against him, the salty-sweet smell of the sea that clung to the loose waves of her hair. There was a palpable tension between them, and he wasn’t sure how much was sex and how much was anger.

Her face was shadowed, but the moonlight glinted dangerously in her eyes as she berated him for what she swore she didn’t feel and what she thought he shouldn’t. Zander was troubled now, his fuddled mind not quite sure how to handle the volatile creature he’d so stupidly come near with such a spark. At any moment he risked an explosion.

Of course he wasn’t quite sober enough to realize he should let it go, and as she pushed away from him and stood up, he struggled to his feet and followed her.

“Siren, wait!” he called out, “You’re right - I do want to feel it, and I am angry that I can’t. But you’re not going to make me stop wanting it, and believing that love can be good, even though I‘ve seen the pain it can cause. And you’re not going to convince me you didn’t love him, and don’t still, whether you realize it, or admit it, or… or… completely deny it.”

They were almost to the cliffs, the almost full moon now in a position where its light shone almost as bright as day on them and reflected back from the pale grey of the chalky stone and the pure white sands of the beach. He could see her face, and knew she was either fighting the urge to cry or the desire to hit him - or perhaps just to jump into the water and swim away. She probably wasn’t certain herself.

“I’ll stop talking about it,” Zander finally promised, “I’ll stop. But only when you stop denying it. I don’t care if I make you mad at this point. Like you said, I don’t know you. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to see it all over your face.”

[Siren]

Nothing was going to convince this idiot that having a mother hadn't given her any better a chance at loving than he had. He didn't understand how unnecessary it had been in her culture, she couldn't make him understand that as well as she could observe complex emotion in other beings, she couldn't experience it herself.

"If it was love I wanted, I could have had it easily. I could have made any man give it to me. But look out there."

She pointed out toward the the ocean, toward the shimmer of the moonlight on the crests of the waves that caressed the sands. "Tonight is a beautiful night. Tomorrow will be a beautiful day, the breezes will carry ships across vast stretches of water. After that, who knows? The sea can change in an instant, lashing out in all her rage to devour men, break them in half with deadly force...or she can abandon them, leave them drifting and becalmed. You never know what to expect. I am her child as much as I was my mother's. More, even. I've not seen my mother since I was a child, and by now she is dead. The ocean was my cradle, and she will be my grave."

This last was said without fear, remorse, or bitterness. It was simply a statement of fact. "She changes constantly, and water that cannot move becomes stale, festers, stagnates. Love like you mean, like you seem to desire so much, would be a sentence to stagnation. So I seek out new currents and fresh water."

She kept walking, treading the narrow ledge of sand between the water and the rock. "Believe what you want of me. I know who I am and what I want."

She turned back to look at him, moonlight reflecting out of silver eyes once more. "You know it, too, don't you? You can never be one of them, can never know their feelings. Your allure is too much for them, you cannot know whether or not it is yourself or your heritage that draws them to you. You cannot be bound to them because always, always there is that call, pulling you like the current. You cannot stand to be caught in their nets, can you? Land does not hold you as strongly as she does. No woman's embrace is like hers. You cannot be one of them because you must always answer her call. But you cannot be a merman because you so badly desire to be human."

[Zander Bastiaan]

His eyes followed Siren’s gesture out to the sea, his first love shimmering before him, dressed to impress in moon and stars dappled across midnight waves. But she would never love him - embrace him and protect him, yes, but love? Never. Maybe it was this that made the girl before him think she couldn’t love either. He still thought it was fear.

But her words now brought doubt to his mind. It crept in, and with it fear. Love didn’t truly stagnate when you found that one person you couldn’t live without did it? It grew and moved and ebbed and flowed like the tide - at least he had thought this before. But what did he know?

“I could give up the sea,” he argued, his voice strained, “If I knew she loved me for myself… if I knew…”

This was the point wasn’t it? Zander stumbled forward drunkly, falling against the cliff face and leaning on it for a bit, the coolness refreshing against his hot cheek. A shadow crossed the moon, and it was as if it reflected the darkness in his heart. He wished he’d gotten two bottles of the whiskey, so that he could drink himself into unconsciousness now. He was too sober for the realization that washed over him.

“Why’d you even have to come here?” he asked, “You loved him, and you know it isn’t impossible… you’re just bitter.”

His voice was angry, his eyes hard and cold as the moon escaped its bondage and lit them, dark as onyx. It was easier to blame her for what he should have already known. He clenched his fists at his sides, turning to face her, his back to the cliff.

“I could have found it … “ his voice escaped as a whisper, mixed with anger and desperation.

[Siren]

"I know it is impossible. But bitter about it? No." She shook her head, letting night-blackened locks sway in front of her face like blades of kelp. "What is, is. What cannot be will never be. We are not taboo, you and I, just because we are born of land and sea. We are taboo because it leaves us in a limbo. We cannot hold to the land, to its steady prison of a grip. But we cannot survive all the wild ravages of the sea. Our own kind can barely stand to look upon our hideousness, for we bear the stain of dirt. But our other kind cannot bear to look away, for we are what they can never be."

She tilted her head, looking into his eyes, watching him shout and rail like a whale calf separated from its mother. She knew the darkness in his eyes; her own eyes reflected that color when she was angry. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pity for him, and her eyes turned a misty blue.

"You cannot blame someone else for your own faults. It's easier, it hurts less. If it's someone else's fault, you still have a chance."

A wave washed over her feet, drawing out the webbing and calling her to play in the moonlight, but now was not the time. "You follow in your father's boots while chasing your mother's fins. You want to know her, to see her, to blame her for abandoning you."

She bent down, picking up a clam shell from where a bird or something had dropped it, and she filled the shallow dip with sea water, swallowing it in a single mouthful and letting the brine wash the taste of brandy from her mouth. Then she filled it again, stepping up to Zander and putting it to his lips. Her other hand reached out slowly, touching his cheek with smooth fingertips and tracing down gently over his gills.

"This is your mother. Your shelter. The one you must heed and obey. The one you cannot stay away from. If that is love, then yes, I know it. But I have never known it for a man. And unless you can learn to truly be human...you will never be comfortable in feeling it for a woman."

[Zander Bastiaan]

The truth burned, searing away the years of deception he’d built up around himself. It left him ashamed, feeling naked and more alone than before. How many girls had he used for the way they looked at him and thought they felt about him, and then left, blaming his mother for making his life so terrible that he could never know true love?

He watched warily as Siren dipped the cool water from the sea and put it to her lips, and grew thirsty for the same taste in his own throat, still burning from the unnatural taste of the whiskey earlier. As she drew closer to him, holding out the same shell filled to brimming for him to taste, she ran fingers across his gills once more.

As before he shuddered, but this time, already out of control and off guard, his body reacted more strongly. He shifted against the rock behind him, not because the craggy stone pressed uncomfortably against his back - he wouldn’t have noticed that if it had been a knife - another hardness pressed insistently further down below his waist. All he could think of was the taste of the salt water, but he wanted to taste it on her lips, not from any damned shell.

With little warning, and the agility of a trained fighter, his hand darted up and knocked the shell from her hand just before it reached his lips. Twining into her hair and gripping hard, he pulled her face to his, his other arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her soft body against him tightly, the erection she’d caused pressing between them.

The feeling she’d caused with just that light touch against his gills was nothing like that of a human’s touch. It was the difference between ale and the finest brandy, between cotton and silk, between brass and gold. His heart might have thudded out of his chest and flopped on the sand at their feet like a stranded fish - at this point it didn’t matter to him. He pressed his mouth hard against hers, his tongue forcing its way past her lips that were likely now bruised.

Suddenly, he stopped kissing her, but quickly turned both of them around, slamming her back hard against the stone of the cliff face so he could see her eyes in the light of the setting moon. He still had his fingers through her hair holding her head so she was forced to look at him, but his other hand was now against the wall beside her face.

“Can’t I just have both?”

[Siren]

He'd caught her unprepared, both with the embrace and the passion behind it...but what really caught the half-mer off guard was how very big a difference it made, having his lips forcing themselves against hers, having his tongue probe her mouth, having his body pressed to hers. It was the difference between breathing the salt air from the crow's nest and submerging herself into the water.

She opened her eyes when he shoved her back against the rock, looking into the golden irises that spoke of what he wanted so much more than the murmured words that blew air onto her lips, air hot like the storm winds of Fallien. She felt her own eyes turn a pale shade of gold in response, the color of desire.

She didn't respond to him with words. Mere words, human words, were unfit for such an occasion, as would mer-tongue have been. They two were beyond either of those, and for this instant, these two, sea and earth, had come together.

Instead, she reached out, stroking both sets of gills and reaching for another kiss as the incoming tide lapped at their legs.

They undressed with speed fueled by urgency, eager hands tearing away at unnatural fabric to explore bodies made strong and hard by the sea. The moon lit their bodies, making him shine like gilded treasure and making her curves, jealously hidden from sunlight, glow like the brightest pearl.

They kissed, they probed, they explored each curve of muscle and inch of flesh. His chest pressed hard against the firm swells of her breasts, and she wrapped a leg around him, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh gripping onto the smooth coolness of scale that was part of him. The sea, ever a passionate if fickle lover, crashed against their bodies, covering them in a delicious spray that only let them enjoy the taste of each others' skin that much more.

Each touch of flesh and lips was like a rushing wave, a level of passion that Siren had never experienced before with any other man. But he wasn't any other man. Here they were, earth and sea incarnate, caught together between the clutches of the sea and the bosom of the earth.

[Zander Bastiaan]

If she’d intended to deny him, to push him away or politely decline, that time had passed. Now, as once more her hands found his oversensitive gills, and her body pressed against his, and her mouth was lost on his, he knew he would have to take her with him on this slippery slope. For tonight, he could have both.

As if it weren’t enough for this creature to be in his arms, her smooth skin driving him nearly over the brink of sanity, the sea tugged and pushed at them, coming between them and then forcing them together. Their clothing was lost as they urgently fought to be even closer together, as if somehow when they were finished they could be one creature, and the painful dichotomy that made them neither sea nor earth would make them complete and no longer taboo.

His hands moved downward over her waist and the smooth roundness of her hips, under the curve of her backside and finally between her legs, finding the warmth there with a shuddering sigh. With a mind of its own, his mouth left hers and nipped and licked down her throat, sucking at the rosy tips of her perfect breasts, before moving lower. The thought crossed his befuddled mind that if his touch had the same effect on her as hers did him, then she would be nearly mad when he’d finished.

The sea had risen to about two feet deep, but Zander wasn’t concerned as he knelt between her thighs, breathing through his gills as a wave crashed over him at the same moment he flicked his tongue over the warmth of the pearl hidden there. His hands held to her hips to keep her from falling back as the waves lifted her light frame. For a long while he could only focus on pleasuring her, each wave coming in time with her moans of pleasure.

Unable to wait any longer, he stood, and picked up the mermaid, pushing her once more against the cliff face. Lifting her slightly, he slid her down onto himself teasingly, but could not stand it and groaned loudly, taking her mouth as he pulled her down hard onto his cock. He could feel her body around his shaft, and the pearlescent smoothness of her thighs against the scales of his was almost too much when combined with his near frantic thrusting. Zander knew he wouldn’t last long like this, and stopped, gasping for air.

Ever so slowly, he began again, this time focusing fingers on her clit, wanting to feel her climax before he let go. He hungrily took her, begging wordlessly with his eyes and hands and mouth for her to come to her release, pulsing inside her, each thrust taking him closer to the edge of self-control.

The sea rose higher around them, driving them against the cliff, encroaching further and further up the shore. If they were human they’d be stranded, bound by the sea with no chance of survival. How many lovers had died against this cliff as the tide locked them away and then took their lives?

Siren shuddered against him, and Zander drove himself harder into her for a final few moments as the tide overtook them with a final wave. As the sea claimed it's bounty, so did the electrical current that flowed between them. He cried out with the final breath in his lungs, his seed spilling out within her womb as the wave broke deafeningly over their heads.

[Siren]

Never before had the half-mer known such intense pleasure during sex. It was something to do because it was fun. But this...this was something else entirely. His body, perfect, muscular, hard, rippled under the sensitive webbing between her fingers. His tongue, then his fingers, sought out her treasures, and all of him, from the sweet brine on his lips to the hard cock that pulsed within her, worked to pull her to the brink of madness.

The sea, too, joined them. Ever a passionate lover, it stroked her where his hands were not, enveloped her like he could not, and, including him in its embrace, pulled her hair and tangled it around him like a net of silken kelp. It pushed her back against the cliff in time with his thrusts, and it rose around them, ravishing them, as their world spiraled into sweet madness. It thundered around them, and at the instant of ecstasy it consumed them triumphantly.

Siren rose to the surface, bursting through and breathing in the cool night air. She could understand why human girls would fall in love with him, if he bedded everyone with that same intensity. There'd been something indescribable and amazing at his touch, and maybe she'd done the same to him. If she stayed with him until she was bored of him, she'd be there at least a week, and aside from Landen, she'd never been with a man for longer than three days.

Despite the copious amounts of alcohol that coursed through their blood, there had been something unexpectedly pure about what they had just done. The cliff had anchored them, given them stability that the capricious sea could not, but it was the water that had purified them, had washed away the stain of dirt and given them a respite from the dual nature of what they were.

Siren turned outward, gazing upon the star-speckled water with a coy grin. Zander, on the other fin, had turned to the cliff. "Where are our clothes?"

The moon had set on them and the tide had lost the garments they'd torn off each other, so there would be no finding the clothes until morning, if at all. That didn't matter to Siren. She was comfortable in her nakedness, it wouldn't have mattered if there were a hundred men around. "There's no telling. And no reason to worry about it. Come on...it's a great night to go for a swim, and I know a good place to curl up and sleep."

"But...naked?"

Siren laughed, swimming over to him and tracing her tongue over his gills. "When you don't have clothes, there isn't really another option, is there?" With an impish giggle, she turned over in the water, heading off to some smooth rocks she knew. The water cradled her, splashed her, urged her to play like a mermaid was supposed to, and she gave in to the call, flitting around with the carefree quality common among her mother's people.

It didn't take long for them to reach the rocks. Time and tide had rubbed the surfaces smooth, and when the sun rose in a gray sky in the morning, they would catch the first light and heat. Siren settled on her rock, above the water, and let the gentle slapping of water on stone lull her to sleep.

[Zander Bastiaan]

“Where are our clothes?” Zander asked, looking out into the starlit waves and then back to the cliffs that they bobbed against. The alcohol had almost run its course, leaving only a slight buzz in the back of his head and a fogginess to his thoughts. Even as drunk as he’d been, he knew this wouldn’t be a night he would forget a single moment of.

"There's no telling. And no reason to worry about it. Come on...it's a great night to go for a swim, and I know a good place to curl up and sleep," Siren suggested, but that presented a problem he wasn’t drunk enough to face.

“But… naked?” he almost grabbed her again as she teasingly tongued his gills, but instead dove backwards into the water to rinse his hair back out of his face, coming up as she replied to him.

"When you don't have clothes, there isn't really another option, is there?" Siren laughed as she flipped away from him and sliced cleanly through the water, the starlight glistening pearlescent off her smooth skin until she disappeared below the surface.

Zander couldn’t really argue with such sound logic, and he didn’t fancy ending up with a handful of cuts and scrapes from the coral that lined the beaches here, or worse stings from the jellyfish around this bay while he searched vainly in the darkest part of the night for clothes that were likely nowhere nearby and possibly not even in the water but up the cliff instead. With a sigh and a shrug he dove into the water and followed the sheen of the mermaid that flitted through the water ahead of him.


~*****~


The sun rose over them and gilded them like a sculptured tribute to the sea, their limbs entangled, the coppery sheen of his scales a bright dissonance to the pale ivory of her skin. The bronzed image of the merfolk in their post-coital embrace shone brightly atop the smooth stones that now rose high above the waves. Several fishermen, unused to seeing merfolk so close to shore, and well aware that no human could survive the waves that would overtake such a rock, were confused and rowed their fishing boats closer to see what sort of oddity could be resting there.

Zander woke to the babbling of the fishermen watching he and Siren sleep, with a start and a muttered curse. He nudged awake the half-breed mermaid whose limbs had tangled around his and whose head rested against his sun-bronzed chest.

"We have company..."

[Siren]

Siren gave a soft sigh of protest at the nudge, but she heard the murmuring of fishermen getting a good view as well, so it was probably time to get up. Not that she believed in getting up too quickly, especially on a balmy morning like this one.

Without opening her eyes, she sat up, legs tucked beneath her. Face turned toward the first warm rays of day, she stretched out her arms and back, reveling in the caress of sunlight on her pearly white skin. The hushed murmurs from out on the water quieted even more as the statuesque figures slumbering on the rock started to show signs of life.

The lightly tanned hands that had been stretched up to embrace and welcome the early-morning sun reached back to the tousled mane of shimmering dark hair. Slender fingers shook out the jewel-toned locks, spraying droplets of saltwater into the air, letting them sparkle like hundreds of tiny diamonds before they inevitably disappeared.

Finally, the half-mer opened her eyes, watching the dawn for a few moments with contented silver eyes. The morning was ever so slightly hazy, like a morning at sea should be, and already balmy breezes were sweeping out from land. Soon the day would be clear and beautiful, with no hints of foul weather on the horizon. A hint of a smile touched her coral-pink lips, and her hands finally came to rest at her neck.

Siren looked down at Zander, the tiny smile blossoming a little more. "It's a beautiful morning." She had no doubts that other women he'd slept with had uttered that same exact phrase...but she wasn't about to take their drunken encounter as anything else. It had been good sex, she was even willing to say it had been exceptional; but to her mind, it wasn't ever going to be anything else.

Zander's eyes were trained outward, toward the bay, and Siren turned her head to see what he was staring at. There wasn't anything unusual out on the water, just the fishermen preparing to sail out for the day and cast out their nets so that they could feed their families and sell the surplus to provide those other little necessities of life. Of COURSE they were going to stop and gawk at a couple of merkin sleeping on a rock. Especially if those merkin were both highly attractive and naked.

Siren's eyes turned a playful shade of violet, and she smirked at Zander. "Did you expect anything else? Honestly?"

Her eyes swept over the little flotilla of fishing vessels once more, but this time her eyes picked up a familiar face, and she straightened up. "Hey! I know you!"

Before either Zander or the fisherman could react, Siren jumped off the rock and made her way to his boat, popping up over the side and crossing her arms for purchase. "You're looking well. Little stubble, but pretty good. How's your girl?" A quick glance at his hand told the one-time whore that he was now a married man, and she grinned. "I guess she's your wife now? Any kids yet? Yeah? That's great. Good to see you, good luck with the fish. They're finicky little bastards."

And just like that, her social visit was over, and she flitted back into the water, long legs propelling her back toward the cliffs. She popped her head back up before she was out of sight of the rock she'd slept on, looking back at Zander.

"Well? Are you coming or do you want to be naked all day?" With a playful chirp, she dove back under, headed back for the last place she'd seen her clothes.

[Zander Bastiaan]

Even if he’d known her for longer than an evening, Zander thought he would probably never grow used to the half mermaid’s flippant ways. Who else but this girl could lay on a rock in the middle of the bay, completely naked, without a care in the world that at least a dozen fishermen were staring at her? And what was more, she dove right into the sun-warmed water and swam over to one little skiff and conversed with one of the fishermen! Obviously one of her many lovers - who glanced almost jealously at Zander who looked away blushing slightly.

Finally though, her reacquaintance with the old friend was through and she was just as quickly swimming happily in the opposite direction, calling out to Zander to come along and find his clothes. With an amused smile, he forced himself to shake off the awkwardness of the morning after, (which was always worse when there were witnesses) and slid into the water effortlessly, leaving barely a wave behind him as he swam toward Siren and the cliffs.

They looked much different with the brilliant sunlight glinting off of them, their multi-colored striations an awe inspiring view. More stunning though, was the mythic being emerging onto the shore at their base, the rays of the dawn dressing her bare skin with the sheen of molten gold. His breath caught in his throat for a moment and the sailor had to remind himself to keep swimming.

Zander resisted the urge to grab Siren and drag her back to himself once more, this time in the full light of day and with his senses unencumbered by liquor. Clenching his fists at his side for a moment, he reminded himself of the reason they stood beneath these cliffs now, and tried not to remember the passion of the night before.

“Can you see them?” he asked, squinting upward at one of the ledges he thought he recalled bumping against as the tide rose, “Is that them up there on that ledge, or just kelp? Or a bird nest?”

Eyeing the cliff face, Zander wondered where the best place to start climbing was. With a frown he looked to Siren, who also seemed to be assessing the situation, but with slightly less concern than his own.

“Any ideas?”

[Siren]

Siren had been looking the other way from Zander so that if their clothes were anywhere on the cliff's craggy outcroppings, one or the other of them would be sure to see them. She could see her bag already, set within reach. She had extra shirts and a skirt in there, so she wasn't too worried about whether or not last night's water-logged garments were anywhere to be found or not. But he was; the need to cover up certain parts was a human one, and they called it "modesty." He had been raised by humans, their needs had become his.

She hadn't been either so drunk or so overwhelmed by his attentions the previous night to forget how very desperately he wanted to have everything that was human. Love, family. And maybe if he could figure out a way to extract the untameable spirit of the sea from his soul, he could have that. Maybe it would be best for him. Life was too short, after all, to waste it unhappy.

She looked over at him when he spoke, and for an instant her eyes traveled over his body, lingering on his toned torso and the glittering scales that covered his flanks. He was a sculpture of a perfect man, fit and well proportioned, and Siren couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have sex with him while sober....and maybe somewhere more comfortable than up against cold, rough stone.

Her eyes had drifted pale gold in color while she looked him over, but she forced her gaze back up and to the area his outstretched arm indicated, and her irises melted back to silver. She stepped closer to him to get a better look, and nodded.

"That is definitely at least your pants. H'mm..." They were too high up to just grab them, and if she tried to prod them off with her spear, she'd likely just shove the clothing back and out of reach. The rocks were too sheer to climb at their level, worn away over thousands of years by the pounding of the tides. So...

"Here." She took him and guided him beneath the area she wanted him to be, then clambered up his slender yet muscular body so she was standing on his shoulders. Impishly, she cast a grin down at him. "Don't let me fall."

A short reach later had both of their pants and his shirt down, but her shirt had been washed away by the sea. "She was pretty generous to return this much," Siren said with casual indifference, although she did pull on the soggy trousers after she'd returned her feet to the sand. A quick walk away let her grab her weapons and bag, and she grabbed a spare shirt, wrung it out, and pulled it on.

"So...are you hungry?"

[Zander Bastiaan]

As she gracefully ascended to his shoulders and he found himself bracing his feet and grasping her calves tightly in his hands, Zander also had to brace himself mentally to prevent any further immodest embarrassment. Her legs were so smooth and her calf muscles were toned and firm from swimming. The sailor kept his eyes focused on a particular outcropping of cliff just in front of his face, paying careful attention to the lovely colors that sparkled in the morning sunlight. Anything to distract his attention from the girl as she slipped effortlessly back to the sand - where he almost caught her and pressed her into the softness there, to take her in a completely different manner from the night before. No rocks, no liquor, no darkness.

Zander stumbled backwards as his damp clothing hit his chest, his thoughts having carried him away even with his attempts to keep them grounded firmly on the beach. No wonder, considering this beach had been the setting of the night before. With a grimace he shrugged into the clothing, slightly stiff from the saltwater, and glanced toward the rocks that jutted upward from the beach behind them back toward the town. His boots thankfully still waited there for him, but he waited to pull them on even though they were thankfully dry.

“I’m famished,” he responded, his stomach loudly agreeing, “I would kill for some fish right now. I guess you bring out the mer-side in me.”

He squinted out across the waves, the fishing boats having become tiny dots on the waves. Something glinted out to their left, out past the rocks and sandbars, but still in the shallows off the coast. Zander recalled having seen the ruins out there before when his ship came into harbor around the other side of the bay.

“What would you say to breakfast and some treasure hunting all in one?” he suggested with an impish grin, snatching up his belt from beside his boots and fastening it on, but leaving his cutlass behind because it was unwieldy while swimming. The dirk though would come in handy for catching fish.

“It’s not too romantic for you is it?” Zander laughed, unable to pretend they hadn’t argued the night before about love and whether they could feel it - or whether it was an emotion worth experiencing.

[Siren]

"Treasure hunting sounds good, but I was thinking more hotcakes than fish. There's a hotcake stand I used to go to all the time in town. I don't know what the recipe is, but they're great. Crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, served with a side of thick cream and an option of different fruits...you gotta love the land creatures sometimes. They come up with all sort of interesting things to eat."

It was actually one of Siren's traditions, when she got back to Talmhaidh, to have hotcakes in the morning. She'd lived in Talmhaidh a bit, and it was always a good way to celebrate surviving a little while longer in her high-risk lifestyle. She ate fish all the time at sea, and when she caught it herself, it was always raw and cold. When she was feeling a bit too human or especially mer, that was good. It brought her back into balance or justified her as what she was. Otherwise, it was just food.

She shrugged, strapping the harness that held her harpoons and spear to her back, where she could reach them but they wouldn't get in her way. "But, hey, fish is good, too, and it's been a long time since I actually went fishing. And no pirate worth her sea legs would turn down the chance to gather the bounty the sea has collected from other hapless idiots. Besides, the hotcake stand will still be there later."

Leaving her boots behind with his, Siren stepped back into the cool water, letting it lap at and then consume her feet, then her shins, her thighs and hips, up to her waist. It sparkled only dully in the early-morning light; unlike many of her children, the sea was sluggish in the morning, waiting for afternoon to let her waters sparkle with thousands of diamonds of light and for evening to boast her full glory. But the fish would be active now, just waiting for the creatures who preyed on them to come and devour them.

She turned to Zander, eyes glowing amethyst in a flirtatious challenge. "Well, come on. I haven't been in these waters for a long time."

[Zander Bastiaan]

Taking the lead, the sailor waded into the pale jade waters of the bay, which were beginning to warm as the morning sun dappled their surface. Tiny silver fish darted here and there, the schools swirling around Zander’s legs, and then fleeing as he finally dove into the deeper water with an invigorating splash.

This time of morning was perfect for treasure hunting - the angle of the sun allowed it to slice through the water and often the shadows cast gave clues as to what might be hidden beneath the waves. Breakfast came first though, and as they reached a reef several hundred yards out from shore Zander dove a bit deeper, long knife in hand ready to strike.

Prey wasn’t difficult to find, although they had to be wary of sharks, which also hunted this morning. Mostly they would be safe, sharks didn’t tend to consider merfolk worth their time. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t have a good fight though, the best fish were predators as well and didn’t take kindly to being eaten. Zander grinned widely and pushed through a curtain of gently waving kelp to find just what he was looking for. No tiny schools of trout or flying fish for the pair today, instead they would break their fast on the succulent meat of the amberjack wrapped in fresh kelp. His mouth watered already - their meal was considered a delicacy in other parts of the world.

They would have to dive down another few meters to reach the silver-blue fish below them, but it would be worth it. He was nearly forty pounds, and not only would he be mouth-wateringly delicious, he would be great fun to bring to the surface. A predator himself, this fish was a fast swimmer and a quick learner. With a flick of his feet, Zander propelled himself downward, hoping to reach their prey before it could see what was coming.

[Siren]

Siren traveled closer to the waves, sometimes breaking off to dive into a school of small fish and send them scattering through the water like confetti, but the brightest ones weren't good to eat and the shiny silver ones were too small to make much of a meal. Besides, Zander was looking deeper, probably for something specific.

She watched him swim through the kelp, saw him grip his knife in a familiar hunting pose. He had his target sighted, and if the fish got away from him, she'd need to spear it. A brief bob above the surface let the female half-mer get another breath, just in case the chase ran long and hard, and barely had she returned to the depths when a huge fish fled the underwater grasslands ahead of him, jetting away to avoid becoming breakfast.

Within an instant, Siren had unhooked a harpoon from its place on her back and was after the fish. It knew the merman was after it, and bobbed and weaved, even kicked up sand, to try and evade him. With such a keen focus on the danger behind him, the fish hadn't thought to check for danger above.

A harpoon lashed through the water and speared the huge fish right through its side the sharp whale tooth piercing cleanly through the large amberjack like it was meant to. The fish wriggled and writhed, trying to free itself, but it was pinned firmly to the sand. Zander quickly killed the fish and returned Siren's harpoon when he brought the fish up to eat.

Breakfast was a quick and simple affair, each of them taking the choicest parts of the meaty fish, eating quickly, and leaving the carcass before the sharks came to take the kill from them. Bellies full, the two sailors sped northward.

More than two hundred feet below the surface buildings started rising up, each different from the next. Some swirled up playfully, others stood strong and austere. All were covered in coral as the sea worked to reclaim what was hers. Siren thought it gave the buildings a wonderful variety of colors and textures that land-based buildings just couldn't match.

These buildings could not have been built by humans as residences; the openings were too small to enter standing up and placed wherever was most aesthetically pleasing, or, in some examples, wherever was most convenient. But they weren't built recently; they were rightfully called ruins. Most likely, they were buildings the early merfolk had dwelled in hundreds of years ago, when they were just taking to the sea. Nowadays they were all nomadic and had no need for such things as houses.

Siren had no interest in such things as ancient history; it was done and over with, no need to dwell on it. But it was pretty, and who knew what treasures there might be?