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"Oh my dear Anaxagoras, do you not tire of this work? Why not come and sit with me? Of course, I could also just lurk? If that is how you would have me be." Daphne's melodic voice rang throughout the scholar's office. Anaxagoras looked up from his research towards Daphne, sighing.
"I find this quite enjoyable, actually. You know how important this is. Unfortunately, because of that, I cannot spare any time with you. I apologize, Daphne." Anaxagoras had an apologetic look on his face, though it didn't look that different from his usual. Daphne, of course, could tell right away how he felt.
The Siren pouted, walking next to her love and looking at his work.
"And what is it that you have been doing? Remind me, tell me again. Surely, it calls for my reviewing." She begged him.
"You would do anything to hear me speak, wouldn't you. Very well, I will tell you once more what I am researching." Anaxagoras paused, Daphne's eager eyes bearing into him. "I am looking into the transmutation of water into blood. Through alchemy, it is feasible, however the specific formula still needs to be discovered and perfected. This was a suggestion from Hyacine. Apparently, the Twilight Courtyard wishes to expand its capabilities."
"Oh, water to blood for those medicine men! Once you succeed, please let me taste the scarlet ichor. I'll tell you then how close you are." She hesitated for a moment, a rarity for her. "...Surely, it cannot be too bitter."
Anaxagoras snickered at her hesitation
"Over a thousand years of life, and you couldn't immediately come up with a rhyme for ichor? What kind of siren are you?"
"A type who is quite bizarre. My love for you already set that mark. My sisters cannot love, they can only devour. I, however, have my trademark." Daphne leaned down, grabbing Anaxagoras' shoulders. She kissed his eyepatch, where his vulnerability was hidden. "Now, my dear Anaxagoras, please do not exhaust your brainpower. Come rest with me, solve this riddle of blood at another hour."
Anaxagoras, his face tinted pink, sighed.
"If you leave me no choice, then I suppose I will rest... Also, you messed up your rhyme again. Devour, power, and hour, all three rhyme." Anaxagoras had a smug look.
"My dear Anaxagoras..." Daphne took his hand and raised it to her mouth. She smiled, showing her teeth. "Do you mind if I sample your hand?"
"I'd rather you wouldn't. If it would make you scorn me less, however, I can request for you to sing to me." Anaxagoras dared not try to move his hand. As much as he loved Daphne, she was also living proof that he could still feel fear.
"Oh! A request that I must fulfill beford the night comes to pass! I'll gladly give you a performance most grand. What of a song about one of your dear Dromas!" Daphne let go of Anaxagoras' hand, instead grabbing his waist and dragging him away from his work. The scholar protested, but she ignored his cries. His project could wait. The whole world could wait. At that very moment, the infamous Anaxagoras The Foolish was hers and hers alone.