Dark Waters Rising

Tail

"Do you enchant people every time you sing?" Wesley asked as he and the pirate walked along the beach.

"No," Valentine replied, kicking a piece of driftwood out of his way. "It's more to do with the song itself and my intentions while singing it."

"So you couldn't just do it with any song?"

"I probably could if I tried hard enough, but the ancient language of my people makes for far more potent lyrics."

"Does it have the same effect on everybody who hears it?" Wesley prodded curiously, submersing his bare feet in the shifting tides as he walked.

"Not necessarily. It always stirs a powerful obsession in the listener for the singer, but the type of obsession varies with each person. For instance, if I were to sing for a sibling, they would be convinced that I was the best brother in the world and do everything they could to earn my favor. If I sang for someone who wholeheartedly loved another, they would form a platonic obsession, perhaps one where I am a friend or an idol. Unwed or unhappily married people have a tendency to form a romantic or lustful obsession upon hearing the song."

"So it works on other sirens too?"

"Most sirens spend many years learning how to fortify their minds and resist the siren song. This helps in scenarios where one must sing when other sirens are present. For instance, there are several factions who still hunt and eat humans. To do this in groups, they must be resistant to each other's voices. Human minds are largely untrained and extremely susceptible to such influences, so they are easy targets for those hunting expeditions."

Wesley pondered that for a moment before speaking again.

"You never answered my question from the other day. Have you ever eaten people?"

Valentine sighed and squinted at the distant horizon.

"Once," he said.

Wesley's eyes widened and Valentine smirked, amused.

"It was just a taste, and I threw up immediately afterward," he said. "I prefer meals that I don't share a language with."

"That's good, I guess," Wesley replied with a nervous edge.

Valentine noticed the sudden uneasiness from the merchant and slyly tried to lighten the mood.

"Unless of course you'd like me to-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Cross," Wesley glared at him, kicking a bit of water in his direction.

Valentine laughed heartily at the merchant's reaction. His face was priceless, and Valentine wished he could have a portrait immortalizing the heavy set of the man's eyebrows and the crease in between them.

"Do you control when you change forms?" Wesley continued his curiosity sating session.

"Yes, but not all sirens can. It's a tradition in my mother's family to bestow gifts upon their children. She gave me a few of them through her blood, but others, such as my ability to choose between legs and a tail, come from simple spells she put on me when I was born." 

"I thought-" Wesley's brows furrowed. "I thought she left you."

"She would send me messages through the servants when I was little, and once I was old enough to venture outside of the palace on my own, she would drift in and out of my life periodically. She was never in a position to take me with her, but she still checked on me when she could."

Wesley hummed as the information soaked in. He could relate to it to some extent. His family had not been well off, so he knew the burden. Flashes of his childhood painted over the landscape, but eventually, his mind drifted back to Valentine.