Chapter Text
The night air is pleasantly cool against your cheek. There's still some time left before the real winter kicks in, and you like to take advantage of the in-between.
The beach on your side of the island is peaceful. A little isolated, some might say, but you always saw that as half its charm. The path down is steep, and you make sure to tred carefully, but you can't help the giddiness that comes out when you finally hear the sound of waves.
There's a rock formation close to the shore. Bare feet slap against pebbles as you walk towards it.
You climb, admittedly somewhat hastily, and when you reach the edge, you sit and let both feet dangle over the water.
Tonight has brought with it a calm current. Waves smack against the rock, but never hard enough to get you. From your pocket you pull out a green apple, one of Vanessa's latest endeavors, and though you've told her to stop bringing you food multiple times, at this point you think it's something she does more so to occupy herself. And you can't really argue with that.
The surface of the rock is smooth from years of exposure. Your eyes trace the little dark marks along its white surface. The clear day has made it warm, and you feel some leftover heat seep through to your skin.
The sea is a pleasant mirror. It blends the stars of the sky with specks of its own, the full moon centering it all. At times you wonder how something so lifefull can imitate the void above so perfectly.
You take a bite out of the apple.
It's a little dry, but everything on this island is, so you don't hold it against it.
You're about to dip a foot in, just for the sake of rippling the surface, when a sudden flash of color catches your attention.
Some distance away, but still close enough to make you freeze, a pair of eyes watches you.
The first thing you notice is that they glow a faint red. Then, that they are front facing.
It's hard to tell in the dark, especially when the creature is mostly submerged, but you think, you can make out half a face.
"Hello," you start, quiet. "You must be a siren."
It's been a while since you've had the chance to speak to one. Most of them don't pick up on human speech, and when they do they mostly parrot what the sailors who catch them say.
The siren is a perfect blend in an otherwise liquid mass. Its eyes remain locked on you. There is no response to your greeting.
You calculate the risks.
A siren stalking the beaches of siren hunters. It hasn't used a lure on you yet, but from such a distance you're not sure if it even needs one.
It will kill you faster than your legs can run.
"Aren't our waters... a bit too cold for you this time of year?" You ask, still using a low voice.
Maybe it is the hour, but somehow, wishpering feels appropriate.
Maybe you are simply scared.
And you are curious. Sirens during winter are almost unheard off. You think about what could've possibly compelled it to stay behind. Revenge comes to mind. Quite a bit of its kin must've passed through your hands this year.
But it stays there, unmoving. And you are still alive.
You try to take on a more comfortable stance, criss crossing your legs, and take another bite from the apple.
"Are you going to sing to me?" You prod. The siren tilts its head. "No?" You chew the dry fruit for a bit, forcing it down with somewhat of a whince.
A beat passes. The gentle flow of slow waves continues to fill the silence. There's a tension to the way it keeps itself perfectly still, and you wonder if it's anticipating the pounce just as much as you do.
You exhale.
"Not much of a hunter, then..."
And the siren reacts. You take a sharp breath, pulling both feet close to start running, apple rolling off your hand and out of view as you scramble up, ready to defend yourself and you watch as the siren‐
It leaves.
Having lost interest, apparently, it submerges fast. Some stray water shoots your way and wets your shins. The white fizzle indicating it had once been there evens out, and your body lets go, some of the tension dropping off from where it had been clinging to.
"Huh."
The next few minutes are a blur. You remember staying in your fighting stance longer than necessary, limbs locked in place. In some attempt to calm down, you start to look for your discarded snack. You find it perched at the edge of a neighboring rock, having avoided a dive the water.
You stare at it, gaze flat and dazed.
You're alive.
When you bend down to retrieve it you realize there's a slight tremble in your hand.
It's chilly. The night marches on with no regard for the warm blooded, and you find yourself pulling your wholly cardigan close. With heavy steps, you decide to climb off the rock formation. It's time to head back, lest you catch something (or something catches you).
And that should've been it.
But as your foot touches the shoreline and feels its cold lick, the siren breaks the surface.
Literally.
Water goes flying everywhere as it jumps, a dolphin playing tricks. It goes up, over your head, and you lock eyes as it stays there suspended in the air.
It must've taken only a few seconds, yet you felt as if this was the end, stretched out, to make your final breath hurt more.
The siren goes back down. For some reason, you don't follow.
Through the ringing in your ears, you hear the wet slap of meat scrapping against the ground, as it lands on the pebbles. And when you dare look to the side, you see a seal. It is dead already. A jagged cut draws you to the throat, where a big chunk of its flesh is missing.
You heave. When your breathing becomes even enough, which is not nearly as calm as you'd like it to be, you step away from the water.
Distance. That would be good.
You manage two good steps backwards before your body gives up and you fall on your ass.
"I," you choke on half a breath, "That's-"
The seal spasms suddenly, and you almost scream.
The successful hunter beaches itself, dragging its weight over to the fresh catch. More blood spits out of the corpse when it puts its hand close to the wound. It waits.
Your mind is a claudroom of disgust and fear and nothing at all.
The siren is closer now. So close. The moon illuminates it from behind and the scales outlining its shilhouete reflect silver. There's a weird fin drapping off the top of its head and you can't decide if it makes it look goofy or if it's one more reason to be concerned.
Either you take too long to react for its liking, or it thinks you're stupid. Because it tilts its round head to nod at the seal, then to you.
"Wha-" you manage, looking between the two. Indignant, it snorts at you like an exasperated horse.
The sound seems to snap you out of your stupor, and you scramble for a response that might not end with you gutted next to the seal.
"Uh," it growls softly at the sound of your voice, and you try to lower it. "...Good catch?"
You wet your lips, now dry as the night breeze presses against you.
It's your turn to wait.
With some contemplation, its red eyes flicker. It seems satisfied enough with your approval, and with slow, deliberate movements, its spindly fingers unlatch from where they rest on the seal. You watch as the siren pushes its body back into swallower waters.
The seal stays on the beach.
It's small, not quite a baby anymore, but missing all the sharpness that comes with age. The sight puzzles you on what exactly you're supposed to do.
Maybe it's a gift, a small voice says. But then you think back on how this whole disaster started, and suddenly it clicks.
Is this literal fish showing off right now?
You cough out a laugh. The thought is too absurd not to.
A little more clear headed, you lift off the beach, knowing the pebbles have left indents along your legs. You approach the seal with caution, wrapping one hand around your waist, like the gesture is going to return any of the lost warmth.
Because you don't feel like tempting faith any more than you've already had tonight, you decide to ask before getting any closer to the meat, "Is this for me?"
The siren seems to process your words. It's eyes widen in surprise, as if something really important just occurred to it, and you would've thought it endearing if you weren't giving it your all not to collapse again. It doesn't give you an answer. It doesn't correct you either.
"Thank you," you say, and find yourself genuinely smiling. Then, to make sure the truce is strong and lasting, you extend your hand, somehow still holding on to the half eaten apple, and offer the pitiful meal.
You throw it, and watch as the siren's pupils dilate in preparation for the catch. And it does catch it. The siren examines the apple up close, tracing a clawed finger over where your bite marks have exposed the core.
"It's called an apple," you provide. "You're not supposed to eat the-"
Before you get the chance to finish your sentence, the apple is gone. Vanishing with a loud crunch. You recoil slightly at the sound.
The siren appears unfazed.
"Okay," you say, and try very hard not to burst out laughing. "Whatever floats your boat."
It takes you two hours to drag the seal back home.