Sea Song

Faris's first thought, when her sword finally found its mark beneath the creature's ribs, was that it made a comely enough semblance of a maiden, when it wanted to.

As the blade pierced the siren's pallid, drowned corpse colored flesh, the creature's appearance rippled like a still pond disturbed by a pebble. Hair shimmered from grey to chestnut, hollow features filled out, and a flush of color crept over the siren's skin -- she looked almost alive now, were it not for the brackish salt water that poured from her wound instead of blood. That, she could not glamour away with her mind-addling sorceries. It was a strange, inhuman and frightening contrast to the now soft face that turned up towards Faris as the creature fell to its knees, its sea-green eyes full of pain and pleading, sparkling as though they were on the verge of tears as it pressed its hand to its bloodless wound.

Faris's hand wavered for a moment. Of course, just because it looked like a maiden right now -- all simpering lips and the thin fabric of her soaking wet gown clinging to her curves -- didn't make it one. It was just a shroud laid over the siren's true nature, another disguise plucked from the thoughts of its victims to throw them off their guard. Faris couldn't let the sight distract her. She let her glance wander, down to exposed flesh of the siren's thigh, turned just so, but that was merely the creature getting its claws into her mind again. Faris shook her head, screwed her eyes shut, and put her boot against the creature's chest, kicking it to the ground.

Why she didn't liberate the thing's head from its shoulders, Faris wasn't certain. It landed on its back on the sand, spine arching, a coy cry of pain escaping its lips. Beneath the thick leather sole of Faris's boot she could feel the softness of the siren's breasts, the flimsy shift covering its body having been torn almost entirely away by this point. Curling her lip into a snarl, Faris twisted her boot, grinding down on what she hoped was sensitive flesh even on a monster, and the creature did a good impression of struggling to breathe under the pressure. Its spine arched and it writhed against the ground, heels digging into the sand.

Faris squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look at the monster squirming on the ground in the guise of a woman, but the feel of the body beneath her heel and the soft, cooing noises of desperation that still spilled from the siren's tongue were almost enough to make her relent. This was a battle of wills, then. All Faris had to do was wait until the creature realized it had lost. The point of her sword hovered somewhere close to the monster's face, ready to deal the final blow.

And yet Faris did not lower her blade.

"Captain! Captain Faris!" The voice rang out, echoing around the grotto, clear as daylight in the dim cave. Faris cracked one eye open; it sounded like the young princess, but it could be another one of Siren's tricks. Fortune favors the brave, they said, but out on the open water old Davy Jones welcomed more than a few of the brave ones to his halls early.

Lenna's soft footfalls on the sand were audible before she came into view, her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat and salt water. In her hand she held a scavenged knife; trailing behind her were Bartz and Galuf, eyes watching the sea edge warily. "Thank the gods!" Lenna cried, when she saw Faris standing mostly triumphant over the injured Siren. "When we were separated, I feared--"

"Isn't the first time I've seen a Siren," Faris muttered. "Had to lash some of the men to the rigging to prevent 'em diving overboard when they hear the singin', you know. Dangerous beasts."

Bartz, seeing the gaping bloodless wound in the torso of the fair maiden pinned under Faris's boot, choked and fell to his knees. Faris heaved a sigh and opened her eyes all the way. It really was them, and not one of the Siren's illusions, then -- there was no way the Siren would have known how soft a heart Bartz had under all that armor.

"Well, what are you waitin' for?" the old man snapped. "Kill the beast and let's get going."

"No, I don't think--" Lenna began. "I mean, it seems to me that Captain Faris has some other idea."

Faris didn't like the way Lenna's eyes stayed fixed on the Siren, but couldn't blame her. "The Graveyard doesn't give up its dead lightly," she said. "And if the livin' wash down here, it's like to keep 'em till they belong. This old boneyard got a mind of its own, and it can change its paths to throw you off." She kicked at the Siren's side with the toe of her boot, and it made a strange chirping noise, like a wounded bird. "But Siren here, she's one o' the dead herself." Once the statement was out of her mouth, Faris realized she was already thinking of the thing as a 'woman' -- but it wasn't anything human. Nowhere near. She had to keep that in mind. Still, nothing to do for it now. "She can lead us out to the sunlight, if we take her along."

Of all of them, Galuf seemed the most dubious. Though he remembered little, he still retained a great deal of instincts from whatever his life had been before -- hunches that he frequently wrote off as the fancies of an old man's feeble mind, but that revealed some rugged and regal background that he had forgotten. Faris wondered, occasionally, if he hadn't been a pirate of some kind himself in another life, wherever that had been. "How do you propose we wrangle her?" he asked. "Monsters ain't exactly safe travelling companions. Present company's family dragons excluded, of course."

Keeping her boot firmly on the Siren's chest, acutely aware of how the flesh felt beneath her foot, Faris sheathed her sword, unslung her pack, and came up with a loop of rough rope. The Siren seemed, at this point, to have given herself up for defeated, and lay limply on the ground as Faris looped the rope around her wrists. The Siren whimpered pathetically, although the sound was almost closer to animal than human, and her face twisted into an expression of despair around her glassy, shark-like predator's eyes. Those eyes never changed, no matter what glamours she cloaked herself with -- Faris could focus on that, to keep her safe from the Siren's wiles. Her cold eyes, her sharp teeth, her clammy flesh that felt dead under her fingers even as it looked so very ripe and alive.

Faris knotted the rope around the creature's neck, too, leaving a trailing lead to pull her wherever they needed. It had been a long time -- too long, perhaps -- since Faris had had to tie anyone up, but the knack had stayed with her.

"Come along," she hissed, jerking on the lead. The creature allowed herself to be pulled to her knees, and then to her feet. She was taller than Faris when standing, with slightly too long limbs and a hunched posture, and her glamour was starting to break under her battle wounds. She looked like what she really was, now -- a strange, gangly sea-ghost that fed on the flesh of sailors, well seasoned with their fear. Something the deep ocean had washed ashore, never meant to see the light of day.

Silent, docile like a kicked dog, the Siren followed Faris out of the cavern, and no one spoke until they settled down for the night.

The way did prove easier with the sea-monster in tow, as Faris had predicted. The strange shifting ways of the ship graveyard calmed themselves before one of the dead, and Siren did not protest. Perhaps she had been more gravely wounded than she seemed. She scrabbled along in Faris's wake on all fours, her movements unsettlingly fluid, as though this method of locomotion was just as natural to her as walking upright. Faris's companions barely gave the creature a second glance, letting her lead the way; she wondered if it was fear of the monster or discomfort with the way she still appeared human that kept them so quiet.

Monsters weren't people, Faris made sure to remind them, even if they did some things perfectly well. Anything Siren did that aroused sympathy was mere mimicry, like the wriggling of an angler-fish's glowing lure.

They settled for the night in the shadow of a shattered ship's hull. Faris lashed the Siren to the broken mast; long past straining against her bonds, she stayed docilely where she was placed, watching the group with her wide shark-like eyes. The fallen mast was a little ways out of sight, enough that they didn't feel they were bedding down next to a monster, but the feeling of being watched followed Faris through the piles of shattered crates and massive bleached pieces of driftwood between her and the Siren's gaze.

It made it hard for Faris to sleep, but physical exhaustion eventually won out. She drifted into uneasy slumber, shallow and dreamless, only realizing she had slept at all when she was jolted awake not by an unexpected noise, but by an eerie lack of it.

Bartz and Galuf were still soundly sleeping. The quiet in-out murmur of the waves against the sand seemed muffled, as though someone had wrapped Faris's head with layers of silk -- and the warm shape that had been curled up next to her, lulling her to sleep with gentle breathing, was gone.

Lenna had left her bed. She had settled in next to Faris, blanket wrapped around her chin to ward off the chill of the ocean night, but now there was nothing beside her but an empty bedroll and a spot of ground gone cold. With a feeling of foreboding, Faris rubbed the sleep from her eyes and pushed herself to her feet. The sand where they had camped was criss-crossed with ancient wooden boards, but there were parts of it still soft enough to take the imprint of a foot -- and there was a series of soft, barely perceptible dents in the sand. Faris followed them with a lump in her throat, realizing where they led.

The tableau at the other end of the beached ship was as grim as it was striking -- beautiful and revolting all at the same time. The Siren had shed the last of her torn and flimsy shift and stood fully naked in the wan moonlight, skin glistening wetly. She looked fully alive now, her figure round and supple, her skin flushed pink as though her heart was still beating, her chest even rising and falling in a slow, shallow rhythm quite unlike breathing. Her lips were twisted into a strange, rapturous smile.

Wet rope lay at her feet, and the Siren's unbound hands were laid on the head of the woman kneeling before her with an expression of rapt attention. Lenna's eyes were distant, as though she were looking at something far away, but her face was tilted up towards the Siren as though she occupied her entire world; the princess's hands were clasped around the creature's round thighs, sticky with drying sea water. The wounds that Faris had dealt the monster were gone, and Lenna's arms trembled with even the slightest movement, as though she had not eaten in days. In the silence, Faris could hear the creature crooning softly, in time with the rising and falling of the waves -- a strange sort of anti-melody, with sweet tones that added up to no pattern, no resolution, nothing, like the repetitive and random chirping of a songbird.

Faris cursed internally. The instant she noticed someone was missing, she should have reached for her sword -- had the melancholy atmosphere and the glamors of that sea-beast dulled her pirate's instincts? -- but here she was, now. The creature had gotten them this far, but now had somehow enthralled Lenna, and was near to free.

With a quick, bird-like tilt of her head, the Siren noticed Faris. A slight grin split her face, showing teeth. Faris reached down for the knife she kept strapped to her calf even in sleep -- old habits die hard, especially when they kept proving useful. The Siren turned to face her, the rope still looped around her neck; with one hand she turned Lenna around easily, pressing her close to her body. Lenna gasped slightly, as though she were excited by the additional contact between their bodies. The Siren grabbed Lenna's tunic with one hand and hiked it up high enough to show a soft, curved expanse of stomach; Lenna did not resist, her eyes still blank and glassy, as the Siren splayed her long clawed fingers across her belly, tracing the sharp tips over the tops of her thighs in a clear, wordless threat.

"Get your hands off her, you flyblown corpse," Faris spat, and the Siren chirped in response -- mocking, taunting. Just put down your weapon, it seemed to say, and let me do as I wish.

With an angry growl, Faris screwed her eyes shut to block out the sight of Siren's fair face and threw herself forward with all of her strength.

The creature seemed to be surprised by this act of resistance, used to more docile targets. Faris heard Lenna slump to the ground when their bodies collided, the Siren's grip on her loosened by the blow; they fell against the mast together, Siren's limbs tangling with Faris's. She kept her eyes screwed shut -- she couldn't look, not now that the creature had fed and healed its wounds and could mold her appearance now to ensnare Faris's will as she chose. But she could still feel...the Siren's body was warm and inviting as any port wench had ever been, and when the monster's hips canted upwards to meet hers it brought her mind instantly to a tryst on some isolated beach, the cool sea air wafting over their entwined bodies as the woman below her gasped in delight --

Siren's fingers locked around the small of Faris's back, unmoving as an iron trap, and the points of her claws pierced through her linen tunic and into her flesh just deep enough to bleed. Faris struggled to keep her grip on the dagger -- this was no maiden she had swept off her feet, no, she had to...to...the Siren's knee came up between her legs, nudging her thighs apart, inviting her to buck against the soft expanse of naked flesh there. Gods, but she was wet as kelp, Faris thought, choking back on a quiet moan as Siren stimulated her. When had that happened? Surely she was not so deviant as to lose her head in the middle of a knife fight? To be aroused by threats and monster's claws?

A long, slick tongue curled around Faris's ear, gently teasing; the soaked fabric of her smallclothes was almost too rough against her sensitive -- so suddenly flushed and sensitive -- cunt, the young lady's thigh -- no, the Siren, the monster's powerful leg -- so yielding beneath her. Almost too rough, but somehow just enough to push her closer to the edge. Blood was soaking into her tunic, trickling down the curve of her backside and along the arc of her spine.

With one small part of her mind still looking on in horror and disgust, Faris realized that she was verging on a climax, hard and sharp and faster than she had ever come in her life. The strength of it took her by surprise and left her boneless, half-sobbing the name of some port-city damsel whose bed she recalled with fondness, her hands dropping the knife to fumble for heaving breasts, curving hips, and silken hair.

And then, she was laying on the sand, alone, with a length of wet rope pressing into her cheek.

"...Captain?" asked a quiet voice, above her. Lenna had awakened from her stupor and stood over Faris, a look of concern painted on her face. "What...what happened? Are you...all right?"

Faris shoved herself sitting, wincing as the action pulled at the fresh scratches on her back. "I'll live," she said, her voice ragged. "What about you, lass?" Lenna nodded.

"I think...I think your prisoner escaped," Lenna said. She tugged at her hair nervously, and Faris could see plainly on her face that she did not remember anything of what had just passed. "I...I'm sorry if I--"

"Don't be," Faris said. "Ain't your fault. Like I said, I had to tie grown men to the mast to keep 'em from throwin' themselves into the drink." Lenna, in one of those spontaneous gestures of kindness that Faris found so peculiar and charming, sat down next to her on the sand, as though to comfort her. "And maybe it's good that she escaped. Monsters...they ain't people, and they ain't good for much."

For a long moment, the two women sat listening, each hoping they might catch one last pure and beautiful note, but heard only the murmur of the ocean, endless and dark.