sirenspull_logs | Craving Music

Entry tags:

Craving Music

Who: Dean Winchester & Syrena
When: May 15th.
Where:The docks.
Summary: You haven't lived until you've heard Zeppelin.
Warning: Tsundere mermaid? Other than that none.

Perhaps, Syrena thought, this morning would be an interesting and entertaining one. Many people had sung and played music for her, soothing her initial displeasure as she'd combed her hair off shore on one of her favourite rocks. A man had promised her music, and although she did not know his name, the desire to hear this 'Zepplin' was enough to have her agree to have him meet her. He did not seem dangerous or harmful. If he was, well...she'd just do what she had to unruly fishermen that had tried to catch her in their nets just before dusk.

Nothing quite tasted like human flesh did. It certainly was a delicacy like no other.

Syrena already had had her fill of fish thus far, nor would she attack or eat someone who wasn't really asking for it. Thus she was in a decent mood as she swam her way over to where the docks were, waiting off to the side, just below the murky surface to wait for Dean to show up. She'd spot or hear him before he'd see her, surely.

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There's an innate desire to want to tug at the dangling legs over the edge of the wooden dock, but she resists, swimming over to where they are, surfacing silently a few feet away in front of him. She's awfully pretty but that's to be expected, even if she's only out of the water to her shoulders. Mermaids are beautiful by nature, charming and alluring. Syrena, of course, is no different.

"Hello."

She greets him, voice steady but slightly accented, carrying the remnants of a foreign language on her tongue.

"You found me."

He's actually surprised when he hears speak and turns over his shoulder for half a second before he realizes she's in front of him.

How is that even possible?

Dean tilts his head down past the dock and spots her in the cloudy water.

Yeah, he picks up on how hot she is but he doesn't comment. He's got more charisma than that and it's not like he hasn't seen a pretty girl before.

"More like you found me," he starts in uneasy about this whole thing. "That water most be ice cold. What are you supposed t'be?" Because a normal person wouldn't be swimming this time of morning especially not with anything on. He wasn't complaining but he didn't want to be taken off guard either.

"It was far colder in the wintertime. I do not mind it, however I will say the warm waters of the Caribbean are much more pleasant."

She raises an eyebrow then at the question. What was she? Was he one of those people who didn't know what a mermaid was? Had he not seen the beginning of her tail when she'd sat on the rock? Then again, she wasn't the best at angling her NV either.

"A mermaid." Comes the answer before she takes a second to sink back below the water, raising her golden tail up past the surface for a quick moment. It's not long before she's upright again, staring up at Dean. "You are familiar with what a mermaid is, yes?"

Dean looks pretty surprised when she shows her tail. He hadn't seen it on the NV, maybe that was on purpose, but now he was geeking out. He'd seen a lot of things but mermaids were never one of them. There wasn't a lot of hunts that took place in the middle of the ocean and even then he never heard from Sam or even Bobby that they were anything more than some kind of fairytale for kids.

"Oh, this is so sweet," he sounds hopeful for a change. "Just tell me you don't kill people."

"I eat people."

Maybe not the best thing to say to give a good first impression, but she's a honest individual. She sees no reason for lying.

"Not often, though. I am not as ruthless as my sisters. I only kill men if they deserve it and are trying to do harm to me."

She sinks back down just so the water is to her chin, a display of slight meekness, if only for a moment. It's best to clarify, right? "I will not bring you any harm, so long as you respect me."

Dean's boyish features fall at the idea that she's eating people. Why was everything so gray here. He's used to black and white and he's suddenly not sure he should even be here. Not when he could be on the menu.

"Uh, well I guess eating in self defense isn't as bad as makin' a meal outta people just 'cause you can," it sounds weird even to him so he just swallows and moves on. "Guess I should be honest with you too. My job is t'handle the things that are out there hurtin' civilians. Mermaids? Not sure they're real where I'm from but I've handled the other stuff that likes to prey on people. As long as you don't try anything fishy with me and my family or anyone else and keep bein' neutral we won't have an issue."

Dean's pretty sure he's doing the right thing. Sam would've supported it and so would his Mom but he's still pretty wary and it shows in his shoulders and on his face.

"Brought the music," he holds up the cassette player changing the topic pretty quick before it can get out of hand. "You're gonna have to get up here if you wanna hear it. These things and water don't really mix."

There's a nod. She can practically smell his uneasiness. "I will not bring you harm - to you or your family, but you will have to tell me who they are or show me a picture. As I said before, I only kill those who try to bring me harm. It would be foolish to do otherwise."

At the mention of music she's swimming over, although at the mention of getting out of the water makes her pause. She continues over regardless, reaching thin but rather strong arms up to grasp at the edge of the dock, pulling her up so she can hang off the edge beside where Dean sits. Her bare chest presses against the wood as she folds her arms over the edge, dark wet hair falling over her shoulders.

"Is this far enough?"

"There's Sam, he's my brother. He's got Beiber hair and looks like he belongs with the tree people from Lord of the Rings," Dean shrugs. "My Mom and Dad are here too. This kid I know, Ben..."

Dean pushes rewind on the tape and holds one of the speakers of the ear phones up to the side of his head to make sure it's playing okay and there's no static.

"Cas. He dresses like a guy off Law and Order and might have down syndrome. I don't know. He's like one of those girls with too much botox in their cheeks - it's like he's not capable of smiling more than an inch at a time and when he does it's ... creepy."

When she pulls herself up he tries his best to be a gentlemen and not glimpse her rack but that's a little harder than he though it would be so he's glad the wood of the deck is covering her up.

He puts the headphones on her head since she can't use her arm just as the song, "Nobody's Fault but Mine," starts playing.

All the descriptive references fly over her head, of course, but she doesn't bother to question them. Not now at least.

Her eyes widen when the headphones are put on her head, and the look she gives Dean is reminiscent of the look a confused cat would give if you tried to tie a bonnet to its head. But, she seems to settle, listening intently to the music flowing into her ears.

It's different from anything else she's heard. Certainly closer to Pickles' music by nature, but far more softer and less heavy. The confusion on her face is soon replaced by wonder for the whole duration of the song.

It's new. It's different.

It's amazing.

They were supposed to. Even though they were accurate descriptions Dean doesn't trust her enough yet to tell her what the people he cares about look like. He's fine enjoying her company but he's still being cautious. She does eat people.

He can't help but grin at the reaction. Stupid that something that can eat people can also be so cute. He lets the song play silently, watching the waves lap off shore, wondering if he'll ever make it back home so he can be sure everything's okay there.

When the button snaps up indicating the song is over he leans in to flick one of the speakers out of her ear.

"Well?" He'd be pretty disappointed if she didn't like it, but judging by how she looked he doubted that'd be the case. "What's the verdict?"

Lots of things eat people, not just mermaids. She may have the inclinations and instincts of a ruthless killer, but she was also civilized enough (at least to a degree) to have the intelligence and empathy not to follow through on instinct. Not without a conscious decision to do so, at least. Philip believed that she was more than a killer, more than just an object to be squeezed dry of tears and left to bake in the sun.

She was a conscious, autonomous individual. A beautiful and clever one.

When she finds herself brought back to reality, speaker out of one ear she takes a moment to respond, visibly wracking her brain to find the words to describe what she's heard.

"It was...amazing. Very different. Not heavy, but not light either. I enjoyed it." There was a nod and then the tiniest traces of a smile. Angels might not smile much and look awkward when doing so, but mermaids perhaps truly smiled even less. At least Syrena doesn't look like a botox patient when doing so.

"What is your name?"

"Good girl," Dean seems pretty elated even with holding back a lot of it due to treading carefully. He pulls the headphones completely off her head and sets the tape player next to him on the dock.

"I'll see what I can do about gettin' you one of these and a Zep tape that's water proof. If you behave."

He almost starts in on something else when he's cut off by her question. "Dean Winchester. Didn't realize I forgot the introductions." He holds out a hand to shake it, which might just be an attempt to see some boob.

It takes her a moment to comprehend why, exactly, he's holding out his hand. She doesn't get it. But it clicks and it shows as she cautiously extends damp fingers to take Dean's hand lightly. That's what he wanted, right? For her to take his hand in hers? What a strange custom.

Clearly mermaids don't do handshakes. She doesn't move her hand, staring strangely at the pair. What was she supposed to do now? She's really not sure. If Dean's lucky, he might see some of her chest, at least what hasn't been covered with her long, dark hair.

"My name is Syrena."

Dean sees the confusion pretty clear and with an amused quirk of his lips shakes her hand before letting it go. He saw enough, and holding her hand there like a third grader trying to get a kiss from Rebecca Robinson made him feel awkward.

"Okay, Serena, I better head off," he uses the heels of his boots to get to his feet. "But this was nice and I'll be in touch about gettin' you your own head set."

Hand shook she's given free reign of it once he lets go, letting her fingers curl around the edge of the dock. The smile that was on her lips ever so briefly? Any sign of it has washed away, leaving a more somber expression in its place. It had been awhile since she'd had visitors, especially when those few who would come spend time with her had more or less left the island.

"You are leaving?"

She can't even hide it. She's disappointed.

Dean turns around, raising an eyebrow in her direction and at the pout she's wearing. That's new. Didn't he just threatened to end her if she put a fin out of line?

"Uh, yeah," he cocks his head, looking at the rest of her hanging off the pier. "Brought the music, after I figured you'd want me gone."

She doesn't say anything for a moment, she simply shakes her head.

"I do not have many visitors or people to speak with any longer."

They'd all left, you see, not because she ate them - don't even consider it - but because the Core had made them disappear. She won't use the word lonely, but that's what she is essentially, living on the cusp of a foreign society to her own, separated by the shoreline.

Every social animal craves interaction on some level - mermaids are no different.

Dean walks back over and pops a squat the same place he did before. He looks a little confused, not sure why she'd want to spend her time with him and for a second almost thought it was a trick if it wasn't for the look on her face.

"Are you stuck beach side?" He has to ask. He doesn't know much about the lore on mermaids.

"If you are asking if I must remain in the sea, then yes." She began, settling herself as she hung off the dock. "Technically, if I am on land, my tail will turn into a pair of legs, but they are useless. I cannot walk."

She never learned and never had to for that matter. Why on earth would a mermaid go on land willingly?

"I cannot say my experiences on land have been pleasant either."

She couldn't walk. He's suddenly reminded of Bobby and the fact that he's in a wheel chair. Guilt hits him like a brick.

"What if ... someone y'know, carried you?" He has to ask. Not that he was offering but there had to be someway to get her on land and if there was a public pool around she might be able to make more friends. Of course that came with the downside of freaking a lot of people out.

She shakes her head then, quickly this time.

"I was carried before. I do not like it. It is embarrassing and uncomfortable." Syrena has her pride, after all. All mermaids are prideful creatures. Having to be carried around is, well...a bit degrading.

"The sea is where I belong. Human cities, the noisy things that move very fast and living places are all strange and unappealing. The only thing that I enjoyed once was a shower."

Dean looks like he understands completely what she means by that. His first thought is Bobby who was stuck in a wheel chair becuase of him and the guilt washes over him like the waves he's watching. "I was thinkin' a pool might do the trick," he stops for a moment and makes eye contact with her again. "But I understand not wantin' to be toted around like some chick's dog."

He didn't want to make her uncomfortable. No one liked feeling helpless. Not even monsters. He'd never admit that he knew that, they deserved it half the time.

Dean finally drops his feet off the edge of the deck and pulls his flask out of his jacket to take a swig. He offers some to her after licking the remains of Wild Turkey off his lips.

"S'gotta suck though. Bein' a world away from everyone. The Core seems t'like makin' a lot of us suffer, but this takes the cake." He hated The Core for bringing a bunch of hell spawn from home here and because he couldn't follow it. He hated unpredictability and that was all he got here.

"A pool? No. A pool, as it was explained to me, is like a very large bathtub. I was kept in a bathtub for days here during a storm by Jack Sparrow. I do not want to feel trapped like that ever again. He has left, however, that pirate. All for the better."

It was only one step up from the glass coffin, after all.

When the flask was offered to her she took it carefully in her damp fingers, but didn't drink from it yet. She simply stared curiously as she spoke.

"It is rather trying being away from the waters I truly belong in and away from my sisters. I would not call them caring or friendly, not most of them at least, but they are of my kind. Aside from them, there is only one other whom I would truly wish to see again, more so than my sisters..."

But she's getting carried away in wistful memories. With a blink she remembers the flask in her hand. "What is inside?"

"They get at least nine feet deep, and they can fit forty or fifty people in at a time. Don't know about them bein' like a tub, but I guess t'you they'd be damn near the same thing. Why couldn't you just stay out here durin' the storm?" He has to ask. Was the weather bad enough that she had to be moved and why couldn't she just wait it out under water? He's learning as he goes. Who better to learn about mermaids than from one.

"Yeah, but the way you said it your sisters aren't like you. Men are five course meals."

Dean rotates his neck on his shoulders, there's a pop. It's clear he's carrying a lot of tension lately but it isn't because of things like her. It has more to do with his family.

"Bourbon," he answers her straight. "Goes down rough but when it hits it's like bein' on cloud nine."

"I was perfectly fine. It was cold and icy above water, but below it was alright. But Jack Sparrow decided that I would die in the cold and if I died he would not get his ship. So he kidnapped me again from the water, only this time he put me in his bathtub instead of a glass box like him and the other pirates had back home. I would have died in that box if Philip had not saved me."

Bad memories, although recalling Philip is always a mixture of fondness and yearning.

"You are right, I am not like them. They enjoy the thrill of the hunt. I much rather comb my hair. Of course it is necessary for defense and reproduction, but other than that? I do not particularly care for it. Fish are far easier to catch anyway and it is not like many sailors dare to venture to Whitecap Bay in the first place."

Focusing back on the flask she held it up to her nose to sniff at it. It smelled strong, but it obviously wasn't poisonous. She took a sip, cautiously, before making a face of disgust, holding the flask out as far away from her mouth as her arm could stretch.

"I do not like it."

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omg she is adorable ;A;

she can be...;w; tsunmaid

this thread. /flops i'm glad we decided to do it.

aaaaaa me too ;u; Syrena needed more CR like this...this is so beautiful fff

it really is. it's beautiful. 8)

;u; so beautiful

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