Gilded Bay Sirensong

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It was not often that he was spoken to directly. Usually Meteora did not have the desire to look at him, let alone speak, save to deride him for poor planning or his clumsiness. When something went wrong, he'd hear about it — and feel it — but it was not common for any of his beloved Nereides to show any semblance of care. Thus, when the stranger's voice drifted to his ears but her eyes remained fixed upon the sea, he was unsurprised. It was the sound of the woman's familiar language which made his heart feel full with glee.

He opened his mouth to reply, so eager was the boy, but then he seemed to think better of it and shut it with a click of his teeth — she wouldn't see this, and probably wouldn't have cared either way. But then he seemed to reconsider again, and with a shy dip of his head (so as to stare down at the grains of sand collecting across his paws), he murmured: Σειρήνα.

There was a slight tremble to the word. He wondered if she would be offended by his speaking and was briefly, vaguely, feeling a sense of anxiety in the back of his mind. If she understood then that would mean this, like Meteora, was another woman for him to serve and obey. Surely the future queen would reward him for such a discovery!
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