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Kirari cradled the woman's face in her hands.
She'd seen many mortals before and though she'd never thought of them as particularly attractive, this mortal was quiet beautiful. Kirari had been content to let other mortals drown as their ship wrecked during a nasty storm, but this particular human caught her interest.
She was a fighter, for one. Kirari watched as she tried in vain to make it back to the surface, swimming with all her might despite the sea churning and sucking her downward. The woman was built like the people of the sea. Her arms were thin but supple, even as they went limp with exhaustion. Broad, built for the water even if she didn't know it, and pupils that constricted properly in the water for optimal sight. Though, they were blank with death by the time Kirari got her hands on her.
It also didn't hurt that she was pretty. The sea goddess liked pretty things, after all — and this mortal was fairly beautiful even in death. Even with her lips pale blue, her eyes void of any trace of a soul, she was dreadfully beautiful.
Kirari held her and gave her one of her many blessings. No water in her lungs, but no need for air. No need for anything, really, not while she was suspended in this place between life and death. Kirari kept the two of them in place with gentle swishes of her tail, waiting until clarity returned to the mortal's eyes.
"Do you want to live?" Kirari asked, once the mortal's gaze became lucid enough, as she gently stroked a talon across her cheekbone.
The human was wide-eyed, lips parted in surprise. Even dulled by the water, Kirari could still smell the sudden, sharp spike of fear within the mortal. She didn't seem like a woman who was accustomed to fear. Kirari knew she was a frightening sight for mortals, so she couldn't help but relish in the way dread reflected upon those pair of deep-violet eyes. She repeated her question.
A moment passed, and the mortal nodded into her palms.
"Good." Kirari waved a palm in the air. "Now, make me an offer and I'll tell you if it's a price I'll accept."
The human's brows pinched together. "I... have nothing to give you."
"Oh, sweet thing." She brought her face close to hers, the smirk never leaving her lips. "There's always something to offer."
Kirari had made deals like this before. She often got the same offers. A firstborn child, money, jewelry, or adornments — fairly useless things. Mortals were uncreative and materialistic, offering up what they enjoyed the most in hopes that the goddess would like it too. That, and they read too many storybooks. Humans hardly ever offered children before that particular religion became popular.
Human currency had no bearing on Kirari's celestial life and was ultimately useless. The coins were fairly pretty, sure, but the paper currency eventually disintegrated in the sea and the coins either tarnished or rusted.
Most gifts were lovely. Heirloom jewelry, fine combs, little intricate things. Lovely as they were, they still rotted away due to the brine of the sea and were similarly useless, though they were pretty while still intact.
The little ones that were offered, well. She didn't like children, but if the parent's first instinct was to offer up a child that didn't exist yet, then the goddess didn't find them deserving of keeping the little ones. The human babies were given a different blessing and grew tails and gills, and were bestowed to sea folks who desired little ones but couldn't have them.
She wondered what this human would offer her. Some of the sunken cargo, perhaps? It was hers now regardless, fully in her domain and too far down for any human to ever hope to reach. Currency? She seemed the type to offer money. Oh, or maybe she'd offer something different like a painting? Several paintings went down with the ship, and there was paint under the mortal's nails, stuck to her pale fingers. A portrait would be nice. No one had painted her in ages.
Kirari was eager to find out, but the human remained mute in her hands.
"You're running out of time," she sing-songed at her, tightening the grip on her face.
Her brows furrowed once more, and those lovely violet eyes of hers searched over Kirari's face. The scent of fear spiked, yet again, but it was gone almost as quickly.
"Devotion," she offered finally, and Kirari blinked in surprise. "I'll give you devotion."
Well, then. She'd never had an offer like that before. It was creative, she'd give her that. Creative and enticing. Devotion? Simply an offer of devotion? This sweet, stupid mortal. Just like the other humans, she hadn't thought to add any stipulations to her little offering, no buffers or rules to abide by. Kirari might not be a trickster, but she knew how she wanted this to go. Devotion. Oh, it had been too long. She was positively giddy.
"You'll devote yourself to me, then?"
Once more, the human nodded in her grip.
"Oh, darling," Kirari lilted, letting the fingers of her hand roam her face. Her bottom lip was desperately soft beneath her thumb. "You're an interesting one, aren't you? It's been quiet long since a human worshipped me." Her lips curled upward in a heavy smirk. "I accept your offering."
Sayaka laid awake in the healer's hut, staring up at the darkened ceiling. Some of her deceased crew members had been washed up on this little nowhere island over the course of the day, but most of their names were unaccounted for and all of them were undoubtedly dead. She washed up earlier this afternoon, sunburned and half-dead herself. The rest of the crew fared much worse than her, drowning horribly in the stormy wreck overnight.
There was a sense of guilt there, if she was even capable of feeling something like that. Sayaka was the captain of the vessel. When a ship would go down, the captain should go with it. Yet here she was, laying in a comfortable bed while fish feasted on the corpses of her waterlogged crew. Maybe it was fate. Perhaps she was lucky to survive in spite of everything. It was a vicious wreck after all, and she was the only one of nearly a hundred to remain alive.
Sitting up, Sayaka stared out the small window next to her cot. She shouldn't be alive. Sayaka very distinctly recalled being tossed into the sea with the rest of her crew, being sucked down into the stormy brine while air left her lungs and water filled in its place. She tried so hard to make it to the surface, but the current was simply too strong. She remembered drowning, and she remembered the agony of the saltwater as her vision finally, mercifully began to go black.
She remembered waking up with her face being cradled in two claw-tipped hands. Without a need to breathe, without the slightest pain of salt in her lungs or eyes. All she saw as a mermaid — no, a siren — holding her close and smiling with a mouthful of sharp shark teeth. Two deep sea blue eyes, long tendrils of white, possibly platinum hair, and a mischievous smile with too many teeth.
Perhaps the siren wasn't a dream like she believed. Perhaps the beautiful and terrifying shark woman with a tail and too many teeth was real. Perhaps the siren really did bring her back to life, and perhaps she really made the offer to worship her, and perhaps —
Perhaps she drank sea water while she was out of it.
Sayaka ran her hands down her face, feeling the phantom touch of the siren's talons on her lips. That's exactly it. She drank sea water, she'd become delirious with sun sickness, and the grief she'd been kind-of-sort-of-not-really feeling was driving her mad. Sirens weren't real and she was way out of her mind.
The next afternoon, Sayaka felt like she had been trampled by a horse. The healer expected it and told Sayaka to take it easy, and only to walk around if she could handle the movement already.
Sayaka told the healer that she was lucky to come out of this with nothing but scrapes and bruises, and she didn't want herself laying about and letting her muscles grow weak. Thus, she left her hut to explore the little seaside village.
She paced the sandy paths, not meeting eyes with the villagers. She didn't want the pitying looks, and she most certainly didn't want to answer any questions. Tucking her hands into the pockets of her breeches, Sayaka watched the horizon and quietly uttered a prayer for her drowned members. It was the least she could do.
Pieces of her ship continued to wash up as the afternoon droned on. Sayaka sat on the docks, although the sun irritated her reddened skin, and watched as the broken boards and sails of Dame de Chagrin get stuck in the sand, only to be scooped up by children and adults. The adults took the waterlogged boards to dry and use for their fires, and many of the children had banded together to build a rather impressive play fortress. Eventually, she couldn't stand the heat any longer and rose.
The villagers began to quiet as she slowly made her way back to the healer's hut. The exhaustion weighing at her frame distracted her from it, but the lack of human sound got to her. There was only silence, then whispers. It wasn't whispers like she'd expected, filled with sympathy or hushed questions. No sorrowful murmurs of the crew's deaths or women worrying over her sunburns and scrapes. These whispers were full of nervous tension and fear.
"She made a deal with her," she caught from her left, hearing the woman's voice constrict with fear.
"No one has seen her on land since my father was a lad," another said, her tone grave.
'Made a deal with her'? She never spoke of the siren she dreamed of — she knew this — she was conscious when they first pulled her out of the sand. The healer didn't seem like the gossipy type, either. So even if she was spouting nonsense in her sleep, she wouldn't have told. Giving a quick glance around, she found that the villagers weren't looking at her, but rather towards the docks.
Sayaka turned, and a chill ran down her spine.
The woman coming down the path was beautiful, otherworldly so. Her silver strands were long and damp, coiling tighter as they continued to dry. Shapely, that'd been for sure, and dressed in a loose dress that the women here seemed to favor. Soft features, plush lips. Eyes as blue as the sea, Sayaka noted, as the woman inched close enough to touch her face.
"Sayaka," the siren cood, stroking a soft hand across her cheek. "You're awake."
Sayaka's mouth went dry as she looked up at the siren. She's — it's undoubtedly her, even on two legs. The siren's fingers shifted to comb through Sayaka's hair, brushing the long strands back behind her ear.
"I'm glad to see you made it to shore, Sayaka. I truly mean it."
"I—" her voice faltered. "I never gave you my name."
"Oh darling, you didn't have to. I know everything there is to know about you."
Sayaka had gone mad. The ship wrecked and she listened to the siren's song without ever knowing it, and she'd gone completely ridiculously mad.
"Are you well?" the siren asked, her teeth gleaming in the sunlight. "You've gone paler under that sunburn."
It took two tries for Sayaka to get any words out. "I didn't say anything about myself."
"But I know everything about you. You're a native of Japan, but was chosen to be the captain of a French vessel. How odd. Hm. You were orphaned at three, poor thing. You're nineteen, too, awfully young, but not quite the weakling, are you?"
Once more, Sayaka tried and failed to speak. The siren continued without a care, spilling her life for the villagers to hear.
"The Dame de Chagrin was on the course back to what you consider your homeland, carrying various loots and spices for the king of that land. Regardless," and she smiled wider, baring the mouthful of too many sharp teeth, "you know nothing of me. How about we start with my name? You may call me Kirari. I think it fits with your given name."
Sayaka swallowed, eyeing the siren — Kirari. She took a breath to steady herself. She'd already shown this creature too much weakness. "May I ask why you've looked for me?"
Up on her toes, Kirari leaned in close to her. "You promised me devotion," she murmured against the shell of her ear, and Sayaka could feel her smirk as she continued. "And you have a lifetime to prove it, I've made sure of that. And what better way to do that than as your wife?"
The villagers were deathly silent as they watched the two, and Sayaka wished someone would do something — speak, shout, cough — something, anything to break the intensity of the moment.
"My... wife."
"Of course." She stepped back, an unusual soft, serene smile gracing her lips. "Marriage is one of the truest forms of devotion, and it's a high honor for you to be my wife."
Wetting her lips, Sayaka remained quiet for a moment, darting her eyes everywhere, feeling the rush of blood in her cheeks. "Uh," she settled on. "When I offered devotion, I meant more in the sense of worship—"
"But you didn't clarify that." Kirari's eyes, while beautiful, carried something deadly behind them. "You gave no stipulations or clarifications, so we're going by my rules, Sayaka."
"... Ah."
"You will devote yourself to me, Sayaka. You will provide for me as a wife should, build me a home and take care of me. You will worship my body like a temple in the evenings when the sun goes down. You will be, above all, faithful to me." Her thumb stroked her chin, and Sayaka felt the phantom touch of a claw. "You don't want to raise the ire of an old sea goddess, now do you?"
A cold tinge ran down her spine once more, and the siren — the goddess, Sayaka realized with much fervor — grinned. "Rest tonight, dear wife, because your work begins tomorrow."