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Angelique doesn’t usually visit the pier. It’s always busy yet isolating at the same time, and it always brought back memories of a more reckless time from her youth. Yet, after both Juliet and May had run off, she finds herself back at the pier, weaving through sailors, vendors, travellors, and others that found themselves in the same location. She walks aimlessly for anywhere between 15 minutes to two hours. Her goal is always to get her head on right, but it never works. The fog that covers the horizon in the morning seems to blanket her thoughts as well.
And that’s when she hears it.
A deep, baritone, gorgeous, enchanting voice cuts through the white noise of the crowd.
She recognizes it.
She recognizes it immediately .
She recognizes it so fast that she’s not even sure that she’s actually hearing it. One click glance at the people surrounding her - the way some cover their ears, others tightly latch onto those closest to them, and a large quantity turn to their nearest exit - proves that yes, it is real.
It’s been a long time since Angelique was affected by a siren’s song. Reckless and stupid decisions from her past put her in constant danger of falling victim to their solo symphony, but it was never not worth it. If it meant she could spend even a couple more seconds with him , she’d risk it all again and again and again. Now, she’s one of the few people who can claim immunity. Surely, she’d make a fortune aboard any ship, helping to navigate and communicate when others had to hide below deck. But the memory of him stopped her - even if it’s an old, gruesome tradition, she wasn’t one to interfere with things she didn’t understand, and she wouldn’t want to stop others now that she had learned how human those so-called ‘monsters’ actually were. Plus, the idea that one day she could run into him again pushed her away - she would put everyone at risk if she could hear even one more chorus or one more verse.
But Angelique isn’t on a ship, nor is there anyone there with her.
And she recognizes that voice.
And she starts running .
People yell expletives at her for bumping into them and look at her like she’s crazy for running towards the voice rather than towards the exit, but she doesn’t stop to respond. She’s well aware that she looks crazy, right now, but she can’t find it in her to care. Hell, maybe she is crazy, but that was yet another risk that she was willing to take.
The northern end of the pier is empty; the first note was enough to warn people of the danger. Now, she was truly alone, although the fog in her mind has never been more clear. Finally, she slows down. Her footsteps function as the beat to the siren’s song. She walks in sync with his melody, just as she had before. Some things are never unlearned; some things never change.
Finally, Angelique reaches the end of the pier. The siren’s voice is all she hears. Someone could be calling to her, telling her to leave, trying to get through her haze of insanity and tell her that she’s in danger, and she’d never know. All of her senses are overtaken as the song reverberates in her skull and rattles her bones. Maybe she wasn’t entirely truthful with herself when she said that she was immune to a siren’s song, because by God is she nowhere near immune to his .
How siren’s hunt is unknown to most as there’s never a human that lives long enough after becoming prey to tell the tale. Angelique knows, though: Humans have a recognizable sent that becomes 10 times stronger to a siren once they’re wet. Something that Angelique also knows that she’s unsure would ever come up in a siren guide-book if someone were to survive is that each human’s scent is slightly different. With a trained nose and enough interaction, a siren could hypothetically recognize a singular human by scent alone, as long as they’re also in the water.
She wonders if he still remembers hers.
Angelique takes a deep breath and comes to a peace with the fact that this could be a terrible idea.
And then she jumps.
The water is cold on her skin. It awakens her nerves and for a moment she starts to panic. This was a bad idea. Anyone can tell that this was a bad idea. When she is finally able to open her eyes in defiance of the sea salt’s sting, she can make out a pair of glowing eyes moving towards her at lightning speed. On instinct, Angelique starts to thrash in the water, but in her panic she’s unable to tell which way is up.
But then the eyes stop moving.
And so does she.
They make eye contact. Angelique can make out the faint details of the siren’s face. His face. He looks confused - no, disbelieving. His nose scrunches up as he smells the water. Slower this time, he starts to swim closer. Angelique starts to kick closer as well but freezes before bringing her hands to her throat. Her lungs ache for air and burn with ocean water that she must have inhaled by accident. Just how long has she been under, already?
His eyes widen as he speeds up again. He wraps one sharp hand around her waist, digging into her skin, and the other around her back. Angelique opens her mouth to squeal at the pain of his claws. Then he turns around and swims faster than he had been before. Angelique starts seeing spots but she wills herself to hold onto him tighter - she’s surviving this. He hasn’t killed her yet, which means she has to be right. No other siren wouldn’t kill her, especially not when she had come so willingly.
Just as her vision also starts to blur, she’s thrust above water and onto sand. She feels lightheaded, but she can’t tell if it’s from the lack of oxygen, sea water in her lungs, or the fact that she was right . She turns on her side as she coughs up some of the water, still seeing spots from before. But when her vision finally clears up, she moves to lay back onto the sand and comes face to face with him leaning over her.
“ Angelique ?” he asks, voice small and incredulous and, most importantly, so undeniably him .
Angelique smiles and, voice still hoarse from the salt water, she responds, “ Lance .”
Lance smiles, taking another second to just look at her - something he hasn’t been able to do in decades - before leaning down to kiss her. Angelique reciprocates near instantly, her arms wrapping around him in a half- embrace , half- cling . Because there’s no other word for it - they both cling onto the other as though if one of them lets go, they’ll be separated forever, like driftwood made from a ship once thought to be invincible. Neither pull away for too long. They dive right back in to each other, oxygen currently feeling more overrated than ever before. Everything from the past decades is poured into it - the regret , the melancholy , the yearning , and above all, the love . Years and years later, neither can show that they still love each other just as much as they had before they parted ways accurately enough. The salt on Lance’s lips is refreshing in comparison to before, while Lance feels the salt on Angelique’s is revolting - she never taste that strongly of it, she doesn’t deserve that kind of pain.
When they separate completely, both out of breath and completely flushed, Lance’s hands slide down to Angelique’s waist. He lightly grazes the scratches from before. Unlike the harshness that came with his prior urgency, his touch is gentle. Angelique can’t help but lean into it.
“I hurt you,” he says with a humorless laugh.
“It’s alright,” Angelique reassures, moving on of her hands to rest atop his. “ I’m alright.”
“But I promised you the second time we met that I would never hurt you again-”
“It was an accident, and you saved my life, ma petite morue française . I think it cancels out.”
Lance laughs and attempts to blink back tears, which Angelique reaches up to wipe away with her free hand.
“Qui appelles-tu ‘ petit ’?”
Angelique leans in to kiss Lance again. This time it’s much softer. They move in sync - some things are never unlearned and some things never change - and the meaning this time around is much clearer:
‘I missed you.’