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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"Fountain of youth?" He's still stuck on the fact that a pirate was here. He's geeking out all over again. It makes sense but then he realizes mermaids could be extinct back home if the timelines are anything to go off of. If they did exist. "So now that's real too. Gotta say I've met a few people from different places but where you're from is definitely the coolest."

"Keep the rest of the bag," it was a king size and he'd been carrying it around for a while now. Mostly Ben just stole out of it when he wasn't looking. He wasn't too big on sweets. He preferred real food to what he could pick up at a gas station after living off pump stop food for so long.

She nods, shoving a few more of the treats into her mouth, grateful for being allowed to keep it. They taste amazing. Sweet things are hard to come by in the ocean, after all.

"Yes. The Fountain of Youth. It is real, although it does not work in ways one would think it would."

"Next time I'll bring you pie," nothing beat pie in Dean's mind. If he could function on a steady diet of it he would but he needed to keep healthy for the monsters here and the rest of the crap he had to deal with.

"Okay, you got me," he leans closer to her finally relaxing a little bit. "How's it work?"

Edited 2012-05-18 09:26 (UTC)

"Pie is delicious. Elliot brought me apple pie. It is amazing." Pie was one of those things Syrena would always love. She was certain of it. The texture and taste was simply out of this world. Nothing (so far) had pie beat in her opinion.

"There is a ritual that must be performed." She started a bit quieter, voice almost hushed.It was sensitive information, even if the Fountain of Youth was something Syrena was certain couldn't be found again.

"One needs a mermaid tear, the two silver chalices, a victim and the fountain itself. Both chalices are filled with water from the fountain and the tear goes into one. Whichever person drinks the chalice with the tear inside it, they will be given all the years the other person who has drunk from the chalice without the tear would have had left to live if they had not drunk from the fountain."

"Apple's my personal favorite but there's a hell of a lot more out there. It's my personal goal in life to try 'em all." It was a simple dream but it was one Dean thought he could actually accomplish if he gave it a shot. Not like having a home, family, and white picket fence. That dream died when the apocalypse started. Normal wasn't possible where he and his brother were concerned.

He listens while she explains, shifting a knee up and resting his arm on top of it when his legs start to buzz from dangling. "Isn't it kinda risky tellin' me that your tears have some magic juice in 'em that can steal away life from somebody else."

He doesn't ask her about the rest or her involvement there. It's pretty clear why she mentioned being in a glass coffin. That pirate wanted the secret to a few more years under his belt.

"I would like to try another kind." She sounds almost wistful at the thought. As for the risk in telling him such information...well there wasn't any risk. She shook her head.

"There is no risk. It is useless to try and perform the ritual without the fountain or chalices. Besides..." She gave a little flick with the tip of her tail to splash water up against her back.

"It is almost impossible to make a mermaid cry."

"I'll try t'get back next week and bring you somethin' else," he settles down on the deck and leans back on his hands. "If you're good," he feels the need to say it. She doesn't seem like a threat but anything that openly fesses up to eating men needs to be monitored. Old habits die hard.

"Sounds like the assholes that nabbed you had a few screws loose," Dean sighs and looks up at the horizon. "I know this place ain't exactly paradise but it has to be better than there. You sound like you didn't belong with your, uh, sisters, and with that whole tear thing being a reality..."

Edited 2012-05-25 05:56 (UTC)

Good. It was such a strange concept. Such a broad word to use. What was 'good' anyway? Syrena did not see herself as particularly good or bad, although there were some individuals (like Black Beard) who she would label as bad in an instant.

Even if it's near impossible to make a mermaid cry, it didn't stop Syrena from looking a little forlorn as she shook her head.

"No. Whitecap bay is my home. There is nothing more beautiful to me than that place. The Caribbean water is warm and clean, the fish are plentiful and healthy...this place is nothing like home to me. The only similarity is that I am in water and near a shoreline. This place can never be better than home. These murky waters can never be home to me."

She settled her chin down on her hands then, staring out toward the beginning of the dock where it met with the shore.

"While my sisters may seem particularly cruel to you, they are normal to me. I am the odd one. If it is the thought of men being eaten that unsettles you, perhaps it will ease your mind to know that Whitecap Bay is hard to find and most sailors avoid sailing through our waters for they know better. There are not many opportunities for mermaids to hunt men and usually the first to attack are those who are desperate or have come of age to mate. It is like waving a bloody fish in front of the nose of a shark - irresistible."

But maybe it wasn't the wisest thing to go on about killing men to a man. Especially a hunter.

"I assure you I have far more self restraint. I am not mindless like a shark, nor do I have the desire to reproduce. I would enjoy a pie over a man, certainly."

That's the first time he'd heard of anyone wanting to go home. Maybe it was because his whole family was here and a lot of his friends. A lot of people they'd lost. He couldn't see going back. Not to the apocalypse, not without a way to reconcile things with Sam. How do you tell the brother you never wanted to work with again and that you openly said you didn't trust that you got beamed into the middle of the ocean near Canada. They'd been all over the states but never out of them.

He wouldn't agree to fly on a plane unless it was full of clowns. So they never got anywhere but where they'd always been. There was some comfort in that but the constant road trips and travel died down when things went to shit.

"Maybe you'll get lucky and the Core'll decide to send you back," he doubts it but he figures he should at least try to be reassuring.

He listens halfheartedly about her sisters and the whole mermaid thing and he's pretty interested until she gets into the mating rituals and menstrual cycles and that was really the last thing he needed to hear. It was something Sam would write down in his notes and save for later but Dean was thrown because mermaids were something you fantasized about and to find out that they went dark side when they were horny was the last thing he needed to hear.

Somehow he's grateful that Syrena apparently has no libido. Even if he'll never say it out right, and even though it's a shame because she's pretty hot.

He's quiet for a while. The discomfort written all over his face. How do they even breed? He didn't think Mermen were something that existed outside of bad Disney movies.

"Yeah, uh, glad you're a vegetarian."

You're right Dean, they don't exist. Fun fact: mermaids mate with men and then drown and eat them. Kinda like hot praying mantises with fins and tits. But there's no real reason to divulge any further on the topic. She's aware enough that he's uncomfortable.

Instead she focuses on the new word she's never heard before.

"What is a vegetarian?"

"It's someone that doesn't eat meat," he's glad for the topic change too. He didn't need to hear that either and it's better that he doesn't. "In your case you could be considered one since you don't really eat guys like me."

He shrugs a shoulder. "Usually the chicks that go all natural come with buckets of that self help yoga crap, you're a lot cooler." Even if she could be considered a monster. She wasn't too different from Lenore and Lenore saved their asses a time or two. This was worth drawing out.

"But I do eat meat." And there's a confused look then which settles on her face. "Fish, squid, birds, crabs, lobster...they have flesh and flesh is meat, is it not?"

She didn't bother to correct him on the second part. Sure, Syrena didn't eat men like Dean, but that didn't mean she hadn't made a meal of men who had attacked her in the port. They had tasted great too, not that she'd say that. She's no idiot, after all.

"I didn't mean it like that," Dean takes a moment to roll his neck on his shoulders and relieve some tension in his back. "You're just a far cry from a blood thirsty monster. You're a lot like someone I worked with a few years ago. Sam brought her on board. Haven't really seen her since."

She lets the word monster sink in for a moment.

"Of course I am not a monster. A monster is a creature without judgement. Without emotion. I am neither of these things."

Was it a common misconception to think of anything that wasn't human as either property or wild, thoughtless creatures? Philip had been the first to show her that not all humans were so ignorant, that she was an individual with a mind and feelings of her own.

"What was she like?"

"A lot of the things I deal with don't have either," he shrugs. He's heard the we're people too line before but if those people were slaughtering other people they still deserved to be on death row.

They weren't special. He just handled it because no one else would. That was his job.

"She was, uh... different." She had an attitude problem. A lot like hers. "Made the truce with my brother first. I was ready to come in swingin' but she saved our asses in the end so we kinda owe her our lives."

Different. Just like Syrena was 'different'. There was a little sigh as a sharp nail was lightly raked against the wood of the dock. "You are both indebted to her then." It was a strange feeling to be indebted to an individual of another species. Syrena herself was still indebted to Philip, after all. He had saved her more than once. He'd given her her freedom back at the price of his life. Thankfully, she'd been able to save him, but even so...

"To be indebted to someone...it is a strange thing. The feeling that accompanies it is one I have not felt often. I am not indebted to many. Back home, I owe Philip my life. Here, I am indebted to Mary for saving me from the oil spill and Castiel for returning me to the sea from the hospital. There are others...but they have left or died."

"You'd be surprised how many people I owe things to," he rolls his eyes. He had so many allies and frenemies that it was hard to know where to draw the line.

The bit aboout Cas and his Mom makes him stop short though. He's not surprised. Siren's Port has six degrees of separation and he learned it the hard way his first month here.

"That's my Mom," in case she didn't know. Dean cracks a grin and rests an arm over his knee. "And Cas is a friend of mine too. This place is crawling with people from home."

"Mary is your mother?" It's surprising enough news that it causes Syrena to turn and face Dean completely, scrutinizing every little feature visible to her as she compares what she sees to what she remembers of Mary. Her expression softens then when she speaks again. "I am fond of her. Of Mary."

It was hard not to be. Mary was genuinely a good person, in a similar way that Philip had been. Mary had a kind heart and had helped Syrena because of it. "Has she ever washed your hair before? She is really good at it."

Weird to say? Syrena didn't think so.

"Castiel is your friend?" Didn't see that one coming. "He is also kind." In his own sort of way, at least. Syrena certainly didn't have a problem with him.

Dean's definitely not expecting the evaluation, he shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. He's used to people not believing he was really her son because of how young she was when she died. That's the last thing he thinks about. Instead he sets his elbows on his legs and sits up straighter.

"Yeah, she washed my hair," he doesn't really remember any of it though. "She used to bathe me every night, comes with the territory."

He reaches up and scrubs a hand down his face. The sun is higher in the sky now casting golden strips of sunlight over Syrena's skin. It's nice and he takes the sight in for half a second before glancing back toward the Port.

"Cas is like a brother to me," Dean looks back at her with a grin. "Yeah, everyone around me's just walkin' on sunshine." It's not clear he's being sarcastic but he is. Sometimes it felt like the only bad company they kept was him and Sam but then he remembered how messed up they all were. Like some backwards Brady Bunch shoved together in Canada for some freak social experiment.

"Baths are strange." And that's all she'll say on the subject. They weren't just strange, but being stuck in one was also incredibly uncomfortable. Never again, that much Syrena was certain of.

There's a small nod of understanding at the notion of brothers. While Syrena nor any mermaid knew what it was like to have a brother, they were all sisters when it came down to it all. Family bonds were important. Kinship was important. It determined where you were placed on the social ladder of things. It determined the color of your scales, of your hair and eyes. It was everything.

The next sentence however causes her to look at Dean in awe. He might be sarcastic, but she doesn't get it. "People can walk on the sun?" How did one even get up there in the first place?! "It would be hot, would it not?"

Speaking of hot, Astrid can already feel her skin starting to dry out from the sun's rays and without thinking, flicks her tail up out of the water to spray some up her back and shoulders. Unfortunately for Dean, a bit of it might just splash him too.

"You try walkin' around the Port for a day and goin' without," he's joking again but this time it's more obvious. Dean's enjoying her company which is weird but he's trying not to think about it too much. There's a fine line between good and evil and killing in self defense isn't really evil. He learned that one the hard way.

"It's a... phrase. Kinda means they're full of life and optimism, y'know, like you said. They're nice. I was being sarcastic." He's never had to explain to anyone that he was being a dick. So that's new.

He goes to make eye contact right when the water from Syrena's tail jets up and hits him. It gets all over his jacket and wets some of his hair. It's not a lot, but it's enough to irritate him. He wipes some of it off of his sleeves. Older than him by years. The jacket actually meant something to him. "Be more careful with your fins, this is leather water'll make it stain."

Oh. Whoops. Things had started to become more relaxed and she'd made him upset by accidentally splashing him. The eye contact Dean made with her was broken as she hung limply off the dock for a moment, shoulders sagging. Could mermaids look ashamed? Apparently so.

"I did not mean to. I apologize."

After all, she didn't even know what leather was exactly, but it seemed you couldn't get it wet.

Realizing how gay he just sounded Dean reevaluates pretty damn quick. He shifts his shoulders and gets over it just like anything else. He doesn't focus too much on the negative, and with a mermaid babe to distract him it's a hell of a lot easier.

"S'not a big deal, this jacket's just older than I am." He looks uncomfortable even going into it with a stranger. The fact that his dad was a huge factor in the things he loved and why he loved them. "My dad gave it to me."

Clearly fathers were big things in human societies and clearly, Dean's father meant a lot to him. She doesn't need him to go into any more detail if he doesn't want to. The emotion and significance connected to the jacket are obvious.

"I never had a father."

Well, technically she did once...but not for very long. Her mother would have eaten him soon after she'd indulged in the primitive act of making little mermaids.

"He was important to you. I will be careful."

Dean's not sure what to say. Since most people would either make fun of him or shrug it off completely. So when he finally does get around to replying there's the hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"Thanks," it's simple and she probably doesn't know how much it means coming from someone like Dean but there it is.

Craving Music

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that face i can't handle it

hahaha. yeah. hopefully that tag made sense. :x you are really exercising my characterization!

it does! And I'm glad ;w;/

good orz

=u= /pat

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