The One-Eyed Shark

The knee-jerk reaction for Nereida when she was around men was to sing them and bring them to their doom. Just being near them seemed to remind her of how good their flesh tasted against her tongue and lips. The memory had her pressing her mouth firmly together, as she once more fought the urge of her serrated shark's teeth from emerging through the gums behind her "regular" teeth.

The helmed knight asked her questions with a tilt of his armored head... and she responded in kind, tilting her own dark head to match his. She found his helmet fascinating, and walked towards him as he stepped towards the door of the tavern.

Her dark gaze traveled away from him and to the warmth that seemed to beckon from within the tavern. Nereida did not even hesitate, but she swept past him, the scent of the sea on her long dark hair as she moved into the room with only a cloak and a waterlily as garb.

She looked around the sea of faces that were looking back at her, and then saw the fire in the hearth. Eyes brightening, she turned and flashed a beautiful, sparkling smile (of regular pearly whites) full of guilelessness joy to Edyrian, then slipped through the crowd to kneel at the hearth and stare at the flames inside of it.

The bar patrons all turn in unison to stare at the barely-covered, beautiful woman who just entered. They start murmuring to themselves.

"Who is she?"

"I've never seen anyone like that in town."

"Is that blood?"

Some of the younger men stare hungrily at her, while women click their tongues to get their husbands to look away. Some patrons look at the soldiers, as to beg them to do something. Mr. Baker the bartender keeps scrubbing his mugs. When Edyrian asks his question, the injured man looks up.

"No. It was dark, and I didn't get a good look before the sack went over my head, but he definitely wasn't shaped like that. It was a man. Or a flat-bodied woman. Not her."

The helmet tipped into yet another nod, this time aimed at the injured man. There were only so many motions through which a person could express themself with one on, after all. "Thank you, sir."

Unless some of the magic he could see sticking to the woman was illusory in nature, this probably put her in the clear. Judging that even if she were a murderess she'd avoid attacking someone in this crowded of a space, he felt secure enough to remove his helmet. He promptly tucked it under his arm.

Edyrian watched the healers work. He had seen a fair share of wounds, himself. It was clear to him that this man would likely be scarred for life, and he'd be lucky to get away without permanent muscle damage. Fate was cruel to some.

He turned his attention away and listened to the buzz of conversation around him. Serial killings, laments for the dead, the foreign nature of the woman, family troubles, and other such things bathed over him. Serial killings, eh? Perhaps he could be of assistance.

His silent, detached information gathering was interrupted as his focus shifted. That strange woman had gotten up and was heading over to the injured man. Her features were ever-so-slightly different, a somewhat inhuman slant to her facial structure. While curious, he decided that the best way to get answers was to not interfere, to see what she would do.

Her actions took him completely by surprise, yet again. She pressed herself onto the man and locked her lips with his. Forgetting the decision he had made mere moments earlier, Edyrian started forward with the intent to pull her off. 

The magic inside her seemed to flare, and the man's injuries began to shrink and seal. By now completely flabberghasted, his feet stopped carrying him forward. Definitely best to sit back and watch, now. In a matter of moments, the man was completely healed.

A chord sparked in the rusty attic of his memory. She certainly wasn't human; the shift to her features had made that plain. Was there a legend of a creature that could heal through a kiss? He felt as if there was, but the information floated just out of his grasp. He'd have to look it up later.

Whatever the case, this relevation somewhat explained her earlier behavior. She seemed unfamiliar with some basic human niceties, but how far did that extend?

As he watched her return to the fire, the knight considered the irony. His life centered around the pursuit and oftentimes removal magical beings, and here was one he was unfamiliar with. This one, unlike most he ran into in his profession, seemed relatively... friendly wasn't necessarily the word, but she certainly didn't seem evil or possessed of the intent to harm others. No, considering her display, it was quite the opposite.

Judging from her ealier outfit's noticeable lack of purse or pockets (or cloth), she was likely suffering from a distinct lack of coin. He was far from rich, but he could certainly afford a meal or two.

Resting his spear on his shoulder, he weaved across the room, heading to the hearth. He considered getting her attention with a tap on the shoulder, but his paranoia was far too ingrained for any sort of physical contact with a mysterious being possessed of unknown magic, as nonthreatening as it may be. He settled with standing a bit to her side, within her peripheral vision.

"Excuse me, miss. I notice your lack of funds. Could I buy you a meal, perhaps? How long has it been since you last ate?"

The crowd lets out a collective gasp as Nereida kisses the man. Who is this woman? A succubus? One man steps forward hesitantly, but then realizes that the man's wounds, which should have scarred him for life, are being healed right in front of his disbelieving eyes.
"Who...what...?"

He stares at the woman, then at his drink. What has he been drinking? He gives a quick glance around the room, as though to say "are you all seeing this?" The nodding people reassure him somewhat, and he takes another drink.

"Mmmph!"

The victim of the brutal attack tries to struggle at first, but is too weak. When she breaks away, he feels his back and realizes, to his shock and amazement, that he's completely healed.

"You...you're a goddess!"

He gets up onto his knees and grabs her hand, kissing it.

"Thank you...thank you so much..."

He turns to Mr. Baker, who's been polishing a single glass for neatly fifteen minutes at this point.

"Get this...goddess your finest, please! She saved my life!"

Mr. Baker vanishes for a moment and returns with a seared swordfish stake and a bottle of imported wine. He places the plate and bottle in front of Nereida.

"Yours."

He points to her.

"Eat."

He mimes an eating motion. Confident that she understands, he then returns to behind the bar. It's not his first time dealing with foreigners.

Giplor would follow behind the others after searching the entire area outside of the tavern for anything. As expected, they found nothing but wet footprints from the woman. Unlike the others, Giplor was one of few who had any idea what creatures called these lands home. During construction of the structures on the water, him and his men had thought they seen merpeople. What puzzled him was whether or not they could walk on land. He knew of a darker mer people that were known ro lure men in with music and devour them. The crime did not fit the creature, even if he could prove such.

The two returned in the tavern and went to the other two soldiers. The two would brief Giplor on the situation and what had occured while they inveatigated. It wasn't much, but information was information.

Giplor order his men to return to casual dining and drinking. Giplor himself would go to the new woman. He couldn't sing, but he had faced enough Siren to know their language.

He would move to the new woman, move his mouth near her ear, and whisper in Siren, "Not sure if you can understand me, but I am Giplor Vauc'Tutt, and we need to talk..."

He would pull back from her and look into her eyes. If she looked into his, she'd see the purest of blue eyes and a sincere smile. He had nothing bad against her, but he did need to have a few answers from her about herself and where she's from.

"Someone bring me a shot of Ta!" he shouted while he waited for her response.

As the creature was given food, the situation was pulled out of Edyrian's hands. Perfect. Someone else can look after her. I'm famished.

His helmet hit a nearby empty table with a thud, miraculously not denting the surface. The chairs were pleasingly sturdy, easily holding up to the sudden weight of an armored man.

Dusty gauntlets were peeled off and set aside, enabling the delicate business of a well-mannered meal. Edyrian got the attention of a nearby barmaid, then pointed at a tasty-looking dish currently being consumed by another patron.

"Could I please have one of those, Miss? A glass of water will accompany it well enough, I think."

Edyrian's attention flitted around the bar, scanning for any oddities. The only peculiar happening he noticed was a man, dressed similarly to the medics and men he met outside, head over to the creature.

His fellows had seemed professional enough; the likelihood the man would cause a ruckus seemed quite low. The knight still kept an eye on the two. If nothing else, something more might be revealed about the creature.

The meat was delicious and melted over her tongue, her rows of teeth behind the "normal" ones making it easy to swallow the entire thing down gargantuan bite after gargantuan bite. Her fingers were slick with the oils and spices that the swordfish steak had been prepared in.

She paused in her eating when she heard the ugliest of words spoken in her ears; the Siren's Song was not meant to be spoken by any but a Siren, and try and speak it away from the sea seemed a sacrilege. Even so, she understood the poorly spoken words and she turned sharply to regard Giplor. Her dark eyes, now "normal" appearing since her flesh-craving had been momentarily curbed, were snapping with anger.

Yes, she understood what HE was saying, but she was offended that a mortal MAN was speaking her Sister's language and butchering it so terribly. The Siren's Song could be likened almost to that of a whale song; a sound so uniquely there's and a sound that truly only sounded beautiful when accompanied by the sea.

And in that prideful stubbornness, she refused to answer him and instead turned back to her meal and finished eating her meat.

Edyrian is brought his food promptly. It smells delicious. Mrs. Butcher pats Megan's head absently as she watches the proceedings.

"How...strange. Never seen that before, and I've seen a lot of things."

A waitress brings Giplor's order, shaking slightly. It's a very unusual night, and it's getting more unusual by the moment. Who would order such an exorbitant meal for a stranger, even if said stranger was a beautiful and nearly-naked woman? Odd indeed. However, it's a meal that's going to be paid for, and so it's delivered steaming hot. The man who was just healed settles gingerly into a chair, opening a bottle of ale. He's had a bad night, but it's gotten better. Behind the bar, Mr. Baker sighs.

"You should all stay here for the night. Even you soldiers. I'll give you a reduced rate. Just don't go outside. It's too dangerous."

"Beautiful name. Such a sweet and soft name. Now I know you're not too happy about me speaking, but you are in my land, and unless you speak our language, it'll have to do. So cut out the faces and fix the issue." Giplor spoke.

Giplor pushed the Shark steak to Nereida. He would take his plate and a shot of ta. Picking up his fork and knife, he'd emphasize them to Nereida, as if wanting her to watch. He'd stab the steak with the fork and cut through the steak with the knife in a saw like motion.

"While here, manners are necessary. We use utensils to eat, so do what I did so you don't look like some savage beast. You're a beautiful woman, not a savage beast; and you'll start acting like it as of now."

He'd take a bite, followed by another, and then set his utensils down to watch her. He wanted to see if she could do it. He didn't want the lustful eyes of the men in the tavern to get any ideas. The more she acted and looked like a lady, the less they'd try and bother her. Not only that, but there was the Siren deal that he needed to keep hidden and there wasn't much he could do but be nice, kill her, or arrest her; and, and he was going with the nice deal for now.