sirenspull | Entries tagged with !: syrena

_{[The feed starts with a sickening crack of a clam shell being smashed against a rock, long fingers prying the shell open with ease. The poor clam is scooped out of its shell and eaten immediately before the shell is tossed carelessly away into the sea water. Syrena's hair is wet and windswept and she tucks part of it behind an ear, scraping a nail against the surface of the rock she's leaning on. Part of her golden tail can be seen for a moment as she lifts it up to splash some water on her back before letting it fall back into the sea water behind her.

She seems, if anything, a little troubled. If she is though, it doesn't show much.]}

There is something I do not understand.

_{[She pulls herself up a bit on the rock then, cradling her face in her palms as she stares at the NV, elbows propped up on the rock and her long hair keeping what would be a rather bare chest out of sight for now.]}

There was a ritual held on the beach this morning. A man and a woman were dressed in white clothes and a man who spoke in the name of God joined them together. I do not recall every word shared but their hearts and souls became one and the same. That is what the man in black and white said to the man and woman. There was music and laughter, movement and song. I wished to sing with them but I did not. I stayed silent and hidden.

Their ritual seemed sacred.

_{[She seems a little forlorn at this if not a tad bit jealous of the happiness she'd witnessed earlier, letting her gaze trail away from the NV to the wet surface of the rock.]}

But I do not understand. What was this ritual? Why were they, until that moment, incomplete? Am I incomplete? I was told that I have a soul, but I do not understand what that means. I was told that I was one of God's creatures, but I do not know of God.

I knew nothing of these things until Philip. Even now, I am ignorant.

How can one who does not know what a soul is have one? How would another person know if one possesses one? It is an important thing, a soul, is it not? If it was not, I do not think Philip would have tried to save people's souls.

_{[She rakes her nails across the surface of the rock before looking back at the NV.]}

If I have a soul, what is it to me? I do not know.

seaphonic

_{[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?

seaphonic

_{[When slender fingers turn on the feed, the network is greeted with a rather sour look from the port's resident mermaid. While pouting is nothing new from her, the backdrop is - she's clearly no longer at the docks or even at the beaches. No, Syrena seems to be in a whitewash room, medical charts strung about the walls. She's also no longer topless, wearing what appears to be a hospital gown.]}

They will not let me leave.

_{[Who is 'they'? Why the doctors of course. Syrena shifts as she sits, setting her NV on her knees (yes knees), the angle allowing those who are watching a clear view of what she seems to be stuck in - a wheelchair.]}

When the wave crashed it carried me to shore. I was stuck on the beach and a man and a woman came and took me away to this place. They would not return me to the sea. They said my legs were broken when they are not. They are simply useless. They do not hurt. They are fine.

_{[There's an annoyed huff, fingers gripping the NV.]}

I am not allowed to leave, they say, because I do not know what things are and cannot walk. Of course I do not know what human things are, I am not human. I do not know how to use this device which they forced me to sit in. I do not wish to use it. I do not like this place with its white walls and disgusting smells and sounds.

I cannot stand to suffer here and be touched and poked by people any longer. I already bit one man's fingers - he is lucky to still have them. I must escape from this 'hospital'.

seaphonic

_{[When the feed comes on all that's visible is an overcast sky and the sound of waves crashing. It shifts, shaky before the NV is set firmly onto a rock. Syrena seems to be splayed out on a rather large rock herself, golden tail shimmering and ever so visible, the fin dipped into the water. Her rather nude chest is also apparent, but she seems comfortable more than anything, long damp hair blowing lightly in the breeze, pooling over her shoulders.]}

Today I found something interesting.

_{[And she seems to reach off camera for a moment, before thrusting a metal fork right at her NV.]}

This. This is what I found.

_{[She pulls it back toward herself and takes a few strands of hair in hand before...combing them with the fork.]}

Is it not an amazing treasure? Knots in hair are bothersome but this rids the hair of them. It is much more effective than using fingers.

What is it called, this treasure of mine? I have no name for it. I wish to know.

seaphonic

_{[The feed comes on with a splash as the NV is fished out of water, water droplets obscuring the view for a moment as Syrena squirms and sets it up on the edge she can reach of the chipped ceramic vanity in the tiny bathroom she's been confined to. She's topless, as usual, only this time her beautiful golden tail can be seen in full view, crammed into the bathtub she's stuck in, the fin hanging over the edge. Sliding back into the bath with a splash she reaches into a bucket beside her, pulling out a fish, skewering it on a finger. She looks, well, rather unhappy, but wouldn't you be if you were a mermaid in a tub?]}

I do not like the bathtub.

_{[An irritated little hiss slips her as she takes a bite from the fish, chewing it slowly.]}

This is the second time I have been in a bathtub. The first time was with Mary. She washed my hair. I had legs then. It was far more comfortable.

_{[Without much ceremony, Syrena stuffs the rest of the fish in her mouth as she shifts again in the water, dipping her fingers in to splash it up over her shoulders and neck.]}

Captain Jack Sparrow decided I was to be rescued from the ice and water because of the snow. I did not want to be saved. There was no need for it. I would have been safe beneath the water until the storm had passed.

_{[She seems to slip down again, tail sliding out of the water even more as she slumps her shoulders together, reaching over the side of the tub to grab...a can of tuna? She pierces the metal tin with her nails, prying the top open. Without any hesitation she dips her fingers in, shoving pieces of the white meat past her lips. It doesn't take long for her to finish and when the can is clean, she whips it away violently.]}

I am tired of being held captive in tiny places. The first time it was a glass box and now I am confined to a bathtub. I am tired of eating the same fish and fish in metal containers. I want squid or clams. Jellyfish. Lobsters or crabs. Seaweed. Even a hot dog or a twinkie. _{[Wait what? Blame Pickles for introducing her to the latter.]}

I want to taste the salt of the sea. This water is not salty at all.

I do not know how long I have been here. Jack Sparrow, return me to the sea. I will die if I am forced to stay in this bathtub any longer.