every rose has its thorn

Siren was so quiet she barely breathed as he watched her, she didn't make it obvious how much she noticed his movements, the way her dual toned eyes caught the way his legs moved through the water. Like he wasn’t even thinking the man waded closer, his almost silvery gaze remaining on her dainty form. She did feel fear, but when faced with the spirits, or anything unknown, you didn’t show it. She didn’t fear a man, but she did feel frightened at incurring the wrath of a lost river spirit.

He addressed her with a simple word before lowering his massive frame to the stone and moss bank before her. Siren barely moved and barely breathed as she looked up at him through long lashes. ”Lord,” the princess returned with her light tones as she tilted her decorated features slightly. She offered reverence in case he truly was the divine water spirit she thought that he was. Siren was also hesitant about questioning him too, what did he want and why was he here. What use could he possibly find in her. Instead she remained silent, her eyes bright and despite her lack of vocal question it sat in the metallic pools of her eyes.