#mmisguided

ACCEPTING @m-misguided

        “ Oh, can’t they? ”  

Eyes of deep scarlet-hue regarded her  –  and all the other bodies that lurked beneath the murky, unsettled surface  –  with learned caution, though the tension that held his shoulders so high and furrowed his pale brows could not betray his frustration. A woman responsible for the deaths of thousands at sea was lecturing him on morality, on sins no less, as if they meant anything to an unholy being such as himself.

“ And what will become of you? Do you think you will be rewarded for the existence you live, when this life of yours comes to an eventual end? Will you be forgiven for your sins? ”   Heavy boots took him across the rickety planks of the old pier, not taking his gaze from the waves and their human-esque companions, trying not to wince as timber creaked beneath his weight. He was as close to the edge now as he could be without falling in, a place few men  (rightfully)  did not go when so many vicious sea-maidens traversed the water just a few feet below him; he came yet closer to her as he lowered himself onto his haunches before her, his unwavering gaze daring her to act on it.  “ Do you think our differing causes really separate us that much, when we are both built to kill and so frequently fulfil that use? ”

He allowed silence to follow for a short beat, listening intently to the sound of her undead heart beating in unison with the ocean beating the distance cliff face. Foul weather was inbound and he should not be here. He should go. And yet he would remain. 

           Even to the untrained senses, the ocean was a truly unnerving place capable of horrors that most occupants of mortal Earth would prefer not to comprehend. Crashing waves, silent currents and as-yet-unexplored depths made for a deadly cocktail for the weak of body and mind; Baltasar was of the opinion that anyone incapable of respecting her wrath was deserving of the misfortune that awaited them.

Yes, the ocean was terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying of the creatures that lurked in her depths. Most would not get the opportunity to see face-to-face the water-dwellers responsible for the sinking of magnificent ships and luring their sailors to death’s door, but the eldest Lohr Dhampir was a well-known presence to these parts of the seas, and they always seemed  enamoured by his arrival. Sunlight danced over their tails as they followed him beneath the walkway, beautiful faces emerging from the gentle waves; bejewelled eyes met his at every opportunity, his legs just out of arms reach as they sought to touch him, to pull him, to drown and devour him.

Many had died by their hands, and he couldn’t really say he blamed them for falling for the Sirens’ facades. It was facades, false identities; masks that he often thought of when he reached the end of the wooden pier and waited for the woman he sought to show herself - and for good reason, too.