sirenspull | ♫ Tenth Song ♫ [Video]

_{[When the feed kicks on, those watching will be greeted with the beautiful sight of the sunrise at the seaside, the sun making the water sparkle and glitter on the horizon. There are the light sounds of seagulls in the background before a hand makes to grab the NV and move it to a different rock. This time when the hand pulls back Syrena is in full view, sitting upright on a rock, the end of her golden, scaly tail shining in the rising sunlight. She's just as topless as ever, but her long, dark hair seems to be pulled over her chest, hiding anything unsightly in plain view. She seems somewhat forlorn as she sits, long fingers twisting in her hair.]}

In this sea, I am alone. It is a quiet thing, to be alone. It is even a boring thing at certain times. But mostly, it is quiet, at least when one forgets the sounds of boats and metal ships.

I have been here for many moons now, trapped in this suffocating sea. I never thought how much I would crave the songs of my sisters or the company of another of my own kind. There is a gentle porpoise who visits me often, but it is not the same. They cannot sing and one can only listen to their own voice in isolation for so long.

_{[She stops toying with her hair then, setting her hands down on either side of the rock. She would never admit it using the word lonely, but she is. Terribly so, in her own little way.]}

I want music. The piano - I heard it twice. A boy played it for me and so did Elliot. I have not heard such music since but it was beautiful. Elliot no longer visits for he left long ago. Others who used to visit me have stopped as well. Either they have died or disappeared - I do not know.

Things are quiet once more. There are no more hotdogs or Twinkies or pies. Pickles will not answer. I wanted him to send me more Dethklok songs. Even he too, is silent. Has he left as well? Or perhaps he has had too much drink and cannot get up, just like Jack Sparrow said about drink and men. The pirate has left too, I believe, for he has not bothered me in quite some time about ships. If he is gone, I will think little of it.

_{[There's a little sigh.]}

All I want is a song. A note. A melody. Something to fill the quiet. At least with music, one cannot be alone - even if they are the only one of their kind.

A request then: Will someone sing for me? Will someone play a song?

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_{[She doesn't really care for Jack Sparrow but Pickles is another story. She sounds forlorn when she speaks again.]}

Pickles has left as well? I see.

I'm sorry, Syrena.

I'll put their names on the Newcomer Memorial, so their memories live on. Would you like to come? I could rent a wheelchair.

What is a memorial?

[...Oh. There's a blank moment of surprise before Mary snaps out of it and casts around uncertainly for the right words.]

Well, it's something... that's meant to commemorate somebody or something, stand as a living reminder of whatever's being honored. A lot of times they're statues, or a kind of statue that's big and flat, like a small wall, with names carved into it. There are a lot of war memorials like that, that have names of fallen soldiers on them.

There's a memorial for Newcomers in the city, to remember those who've died or gone home, so they won't be forgotten.

...I think I understand.

Okay. Well, since Jack and Pickles are gone, I'm going to the Memorial this weekend to get their names added.

Will you carve them yourself?

No. There's someone else who carves them, and I'll tell him to add those names.

I find it strange. To carve names onto something to remember them. Are human memories so short?

_{[Because really, that's how she understands it. She doesn't exactly see the reason for it, aside from the fact it was a custom. Then again, when had certain customs and traditions ever made sense? Culture was a strange thing.]}

Not exactly.

We like to leave something behind as evidence that we were here. Residents here get graves in the cemetery and they have family and friends who remember them. But when Newcomers vanish, it's like they were never here. The government doesn't remember them and they barely even leave a paper trail- so we have this memorial to remind the city of the footprints we leave behind.

_{[It’s so strange to her. Really, it is. Not a bad kind of strange, just foreign. She can understand the logic behind it, but it’s difficult to imagine an entire species so fixated on remembering one another. Then she reminds herself it’s not that strange. After all, she remembers Philip. She’ll never forget Philip.]}

That is a kind thing to do. To remember.

[Smile. She does love to see Syrena get it.]

That's why we do it. What do you think?

I think it is strange, but not bad.

Can I give you a treasure for it? To put with Pickle's name?

[thinking] Is it an actual piece of treasure? [She bites her lip in thought, gaze flicking back up to the NV.] I can bury it next to the Memorial.

Yes. It is one of my treasures. _{[Although that could mean a lot of things - Syrena's 'treasures' range from forks to actual pieces of jewelry she's found at the bottom of the sea.]}

♫ Tenth Song ♫ [Video]

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