Read part one here
They make a habit of meeting when the full moon peaks. It’s far too short, barely a night’s length.
He talks a lot during those, enough for them both, about books and maps and compasses. Humans use the stars to find their way around the oceans, she learns, and they ink parchment with symbols to communicate.
She huffs when he tries to teach her. On the sand, she draws the sun. ‘No time.’
So speak until the seconds are filled to the brim.
Like her wholly-marine counterparts, the Angler siren was conceived from destruction. A vicious act brought her to life, the disintegration of another, the utter breaking of flesh and bone. Like her wholly-marine counterparts, she’s been wed to the depths since her beginning, condemned to be bound to its cold and its danger. But unlike them she rose from the breaking of spirits too, and unlike them she isn’t a creature of grotesque features, of frigid eyes, and teeth protruding, sharp and threatening.
In truth, she is the complete opposite of that.