Northstar Vale a manager at a comic book store

@Astynome, AW!

the siren missed kukutux. it had only been a few days since their last encounter, but she longed for the little bird's presence. kalika trotted through the territory's heart, quietly humming a hymn while she seeked out her friend.

back in her first year, her mother used to brush her hair with long, smooth strokes of her hand. before they cut off her fingers. before they cut off her nose. and before the flow of refugee asylum seekers turned to a roaring river. 
only so much you could do for hundreds of people who had family-shaped holes in their lives. and now she was one of them: entering a train station you've never seen with the panic coming on strong. wondering if you should buy another ticket?

up ahead, there's a small white and unfamiliar face. one day if she stays here, she'll be able to recognise her skull from a mile away. just by the shape of the bones. this realisation is unsettling, yet comforting. like watching your face in the mirror change every day bit by bit. millimetre by millimetre.

"good morning," her voice, soft but rusty from recent sleep, scares a nearby bird. she watches it fly away, all crooked and clumsy.

the woman moved as though an apparition, her raspy voice beckoning kalika forward. good morning, she'd said, but it resonated as a something more than a simple greeting. her interest was piqued, and in more ways than one.

the siren continued in her approach, moving to bump their shoulders once within reach. and to you, she replied, settling a short distance away to preen herself. the siren would wait for her companion to continue before even considering an introduction.

when kalika goes to touch shoulders with her, astynome audibly, visibly swallows. she tries not to stare at the point of contact, burning, a glowing red nuclear button aching to be pressed. "ta mátia sou dekatéssera," full of breath, the words leave her mouth of their own accord. "do you know what that means?"

here, she is a magician. someone with a birdcage in one hand and a velvet cloth in the other. are you looking closely? 
she notices, even though the siren was fair-skinned, she had the darkest eyelashes of anyone she'd ever seen.

kalika looked up to stare through daring eyes. a tease at either corner of her mouth, curling into a devilish grin. échete éna kólpo gia ména? she cooed, finding herself immersed in the girl's presence.

the siren doubted that this was a sister, another nereid. she would have made it known by this point in conversation, would she not? she wondered if the girl had grown up near themiscyra, finding it difficult to believe that she would have learned their tongue anywhere else

deíxe mou. it was a command made by a quiet voice while kalika waited to be entertained.

more and more teeth show through her smile. she twists bends down to clear out a tangle in her back leg, her face obscured partly by fur; while doing so, slips a smooth stone into her mouth. she tongues it back in a cheek. 
then she gestures at a similar stone in front of her, in true astynome fashion. in one fluid motion, she hides the stone under her paw, hums a short tune, grinning all the while. she moves forwards, aiming to put her face right behind kalika's ear to her right, as if retrieving something from the plush neck fur. a sleight of hand.

if she was allowed to get so close, like a zookeeper and his tiger, astynome would draw back, lift her lips, revealing the stone in her mouth. her incredulous expression would read, simply, how did that get there? 

the magician approached, her breath billowing through white whisps of fur. kalika was not afraid of a woman's affection, and so let herself melt. a paw reached out, stamping down just a step from where it was once sat.

and when the stranger rearose, stone in mouth, the siren could not help but to simper. a coquetteish thing, her smile was; kalika asked, tha to xanakánete?. the anonymity factor made their game all the more enjoyable.

switching to english text for convenience's sake, still speaking greek doe!

up close, she realises how alive the siren is. the breathing, the tiny twitching in her eyelids, a twinge in her pale cheek. astynome's breath ruffles the hair on her neck and she realises that she herself is alive too. a sudden euphoria surges through her, almost takes her off the ground. she curls her toes in the dirt.

"why, so you can find out how i did it?" she asks under her breath, as if being caught in loose talk around tables. "can't i be the audience this time? i'll clap for you, after." 
underneath all that white fur is a red face. underneath that red face are dilated veins, heartbeat in her ears like the bassline to a trigger-happy song.

lmao, fair.

the intcing repertoire implied that this was not her first time. this woman was experienced, well-aware of her ability to affect. kalika was the same; she took careful note of the pause between them. 

she skipped over the first half of the tease. you might not like my tricks, the siren cooed, my performance is more involved. a moment to allow for a response, time for the sylph to give consent.

my performance is more involved.
she raises her brows, tilts her head. in a few facial motions she has become the subject to a modigliani painting: a fresh and clear face, narrow and vivid eyes. 
"go on, then," air escapes her chest in a hydraulic hiss. "i'll close my eyes." a thrill races up her spine. jump to where she is now, holding her breath, the sunlight through her eyelids looking all red and purple, pulsing like microorganisms under a microscope.

go on, then.

the nymphette was slow to approach, taking each step with an agonizing lag. time spent on her approach was used to consider and weigh her options. she could rush, ending their game for a different pastime, but thought it too easy.

kalika enjoyed playing the part of tease, as had been demonstrated at the cove with her consort. she liked to be chased, to run from her female captor..

once close enough, she reached to preen the fur behind the plaything's ear, then trailing down the length of her neck and settling atop her spine. the siren would flag her tail, hoping to hit her companion and disorient her while she nipped her skin and ran just out of reach.

the siren moved through an invisible treacle. astynome found that she could not take her eyes off of her, despite her earlier promise. her eyes, a pair of the cleanest inkpools. an untapped spring of oil in the desert. 

she feels teeth behind her ear. then a warm breath, leaving goosebumps wherever she went, tiny footsteps, like a scythe brushing through hay. like tracing your finger down a knife edge, soft enough to not draw blood. 

her tail, just as seafoam/seaspray as the rest of her, flags out. she bites down a gasp of surprise, smiles through her incisors, twists back around to meet the siren. a few seconds pass before she lunges at the smaller woman, all gangly legs, aiming to brush her cheek with a cool black nose.

the plaything snapped, catching kalika's tail. the smile was reciprocated with another kittenish smirk, accented by a hushed coo. once far enough, she turned, just in time to watch her partner's approach. they made contact, though only for a moment; was the slyph no longer interested?

it's how she likes to play.

the siren decided that this was nothing to worry about. if her interest had truly waned, she would have simply left the arena. kalika nipped at the woman's flank, snapping for her underbelly before dashing away as before.

her smell fills her nose, her lungs. if you were perceptive, you might have been able to see astynome's pupils dilate in real time. the coo is lost in the sound of feet on ground. they are kinetic; artemis would look down from her throne of huntresses and only have praise to give.

there's teeth at her side, the siren's small white face close to her belly. she is tiny, but that makes her all the more slippery. a selkie in-between disguises. moving through the air as if through water. made of only muscle.

she decides her patience is finite. astynome chases her and rears up, hands to the front, wanting to place them on the siren's shoulders. to press her gently towards the earth.

the siren was on the ground, strapped beneath her plaything. it was an uncomfortable position, this forced submission, but she would not argue against it. kalika slid into a playbow, her spine arched beneath the belly of the victor. she laid her head against the ground, one eye staring up toward the sky.

will you clap for me now? she chirped, tail twitching with mock agitation. a short-lived snarl drew upon her lips, only to be whisked away and replaced with a plea.

a bit of pp, hope its ok! lmk if it aint, kalika can slap her away lmao

this writhing, twisting thing below her. a fisherman who has just caught a fantastic specimen, something straight out of his dreams. full of sinew and catching the sunlight with every turn. if she closes her eyes, she can almost smell the ocean. seasalt and dying things.

the single eye stares back at her and astynome is transfixed for a fleeting portion of a second, momentarily a moth caught on a cork board. "you did well," she says, her voice somewhat strained, somewhat off-kilter. somewhat out of breath.
she gently presses her nose against the off-white forehead. 
breathing in, she can swear that she smells the ocean.
"where do you come from?" the edge of her breath is still ragged. it is so warm.

the coast, kalika whispered. the pressure of the plaything's touch elicited a gasp, just loud enough to be heard. they were so close, and yet— did she intend to stop here? were her mind not so occupied with fantasies about their next chapter, a small part of the siren did hope that this would be it. that the plaything would be bold enough to leave her shivering with want.

another snarl, this one lasting a moment longer. and you, magician? she pressed herself against her companion with as much force as she could muster, half-heartedly hoping that she might step away.

might be last post, but kalika is free to stop her

a maritime woman—tanned legs and hair all asunder, loosened by the feral wind out on deck. her hands slide off the siren's shoulders at her protests. the sheer proximity of her has astynome reeling, like she's cut a string that had anchored some part of her.
the feeling of breathing in air that someone has breathed out. she can't hear her own thoughts over the roar of blood that's filled her head and gushed around her ears. she'd never been more aware that the heart was nothing more than a strong muscle with a mind of its own.
"an island. war-torn." she murmurs. "we were not soldiers. we took care of the prisoners-of-war."
jump to home, an island shot through with a bay in the shape of a large bite mark. the mountain caves full of people who had nowhere else to go. bunkers that were a hundred feet off the ground.

she makes as if to leave, turning away. the way she walks, its obvious she is still dizzy. "perhaps--perhaps next time, it will be you stumbling upon me. siren."

a generous people. it didn't make sense, then, for her to have withheld that with kalika so longed for. 

perhaps, she parroted. what did this woman know? 

after a moment spent watching her depart, siren stood and turned to walk back toward her den.