Siren Song
Campernetics
He first sees her perched on a rocky outcrop that sprawls above the surface near where he makes his home. She's alone and completely naked. Despite these two factors, she's unusually calm, watching the distant coastline with something resembling boredom. He doesn't recall any ships sinking nearby, but she can't have swum this far, and there's nothing nearby, no little dinghy moored to the rocks. She's stranded, and although it's not David's modus operandi to let himself be seen, he can't leave her alone like that, baking under the hot sun.
He hovers some ways away, just barely peeking above the water, and debates with himself about what he should do. If she's dehydrated enough, he can maybe convince her his existence is some kind of fever dream and deposit her on the closest shore that leads to civilisation.
And then the woman shifts forwards and slips off the rock, into the water, disappearing below the surface. She doesn't resurface, and adrenaline floods David's system, muscle memory kicking him. He dives, propelling himself forward with as much speed as he can manage towards the shape of her, hanging easily suspending in the water. She looks relaxed, her arms stretched out above her, her eyes closed. They open just as he's seconds away, and his heart jumps, but he knew she'd have to see him if he was going to save her.
He takes her by the upper arm, dragging her up. They break the surface, and instead of hacking for breath like others have, the woman shoots him a look of disdain.
“You mind?” She yanks her arm out of his grip, and David moves back. “What's your issue? Jeez, I thought I was alone out here.”
David blinks. “Excuse me?”
She doesn't seem at all perturbed by his tail, moving lazily as he treads water, staring at her. “I- I'm sorry, I thought… I thought you needed help!”
The woman sighs, rolling her eyes. “Alright. Look, I'm gonna let you off with a warning for this one, cause I know how good I am at this shit, and how, uh, helpful your kind like to be,” she says, spitting the word with distaste. “But go ahead, take a closer look, and tell me where you might've gone wrong.”
David tilts his head, looking at her through a different frame. Upon first glance, she'd looked human. Looking closer, the evidence to the contrary begins to present itself. Her eyes are a vibrant purple, the pupils pricked, and her teeth shine with threatening points when she smirks. As he watches, a set of previously unnoticed seams on either side if her throat flex and open, not dissimilar to his own gills.
“Oh.”
“You got it?”
“Well, uh, I… understand that I made a mistake in assuming you were drowning,” he says carefully. “I'm sorry!”
She huffs a laugh, her head ducking back under the water. David follows.
“Close enough, I guess,” she says, and swipes a hand over her thigh. For a split second the pressure in David's ears seems to pop, and shining purple follows the path of her hand and beyond, dripping over her joining legs like paint. The whole thing takes barely a few seconds, but then her tail is curling and uncurling beneath her, and she sighs. “That's better.”
“Oh!” David's face lights up with understanding. “I've never met a real siren before!”
“Sorry to break your record.” She smiles at him again, toothy and vaguely threatening, and David's excited fades beneath his apprehension. His mother warned him that sirens were… not like them. They looked similar, and most humans couldn't or didn't care to tell the difference, but David can see them. Along either side of her tail is a set of fins, razor sharp, and even the very ends of her tailfin seem to be pointed more than is strictly necessary. She's part of a predator species, a species that's not above making a meal of their Mere cousins in desperate times. He backs away slightly, slowly, his muscles tensing.
