Greatwater Lake Was a shooter with the law

@Greyjoy

Dusk was coming, and Psamathe rose from a dip in the land, blinking sleep from her eyes. The consorts were keeping watch so the sirens could rest and ready themselves for their reunion with the Sea. A glance at the sky revealed that the sky was still devoid of its familiar silver disc. They were awaiting the blessing of their Moon Mother before leaving the lake and travelling to the destination that Psamathe would ultimately find for them. The enormity of this task sometimes loomed before her, but the nymph didn't doubt herself.

After shaking out her coat, she strode on swift legs to the water and plunged herself into it. Silent prayers flitted through her mind as she dunked under the still surface, sending bottom feeders scurrying. When she crested again, her eyes seemed to sparkle with a liveliness she lacked when she was ground-bound.

Soon, she would need to seek more answers in the lake's surface to guide her sisters north, but presently Psamathe wanted nothing more than to thoroughly bathe, feel the slight presence of her Mother, and possibly catch a fish or two.

If Greyjoy should know about her rape, I'll edit the last part.

Greyjoy had been seated on a rise near their camp, watching the sirens move in their own time. Atlas was nearby, watching over Akantha or another Nereides, so it was up to the hoplite to keep watch over them all. Psamathe crested a small hill not far from the lake, coming into view as she turned toward the water and dove under its depths. Before he moved, Greyjoy made sure Atlas was near with a quick glance, and then descended his outpost to sit upon the banks of the lake.

Psamathe did not like him much, though it was true none of the Nereides truly liked a male. However, he preferred apathy to hatred, and there could be flashes of anger so deep in her glances toward him that worried Greyjoy. He did not know what had happened to hurt her so, but he was certain none of it was his own doing. The Orkwood was a devoted servant, a soldier whose sole purpose was to protect the Nereides as they sought a new life outside Themiscyra Coast; he was the most trusted of men, though perhaps that meant little in Psamathe's eyes.

She probably kept that secret!

Her wet coat glistened as she began wading deeper into the pool. With her fur slicked around her sides, one could make out how truly slight Psamathe was—a twig, more or less. She still retained the look of a yearling, even though her words made her sound much older and wiser. She, of course, didn't notice these things about herself as she sank up to her shoulders in the lake. Even in the dim light, the willowy female could make out the shadow of fish flitting beneath the surface.

Before she could dart under to catch one, the prickly sensation of someone watching her. Turning her head, the svelte Nereides could just barely make out the grey gradient of Greyjoy's coat. She syared suspiciously back at him through a single narrowed eye, as though daring him to take some action against her. He was a hoplite, though, and sworn to Aktaiê, so despite her mistrust, Psamathe eventually had to admit to herself that he was no danger.

“You're staring,” she called curtly across the distance.

I thought so! He just knows something happened.

Greyjoy had not realized he was staring until she told him so, and immediately he averted his eyes to the surrounding land instead. "Forgive me, Μύστης Ψαμάθη. I did not realize I was." Greyjoy bowed his head toward her, though did not speak further. It was not his place to speak to her, especially considering she was enjoying her time beneath the waters.

They were not as clear nor comforting as the salt waves to which they were called, but Greyjoy knew the adept drew comfort from this lake, more so than some of the others. The hoplite hoped that soon she would receive a sign from the Mother Moon, telling them of their destination. It was hard to keep his patience in check, as his own heart ached with the absence of the sea, but he knew Psamathe and Aktaiê were not keeping them away from their home longer than necessary.

Her attention lingered on him for a time, her ears swivelling when he addressed her in their mother tongue. She chided him with a cluck of her tongue, as so often Psamathe belittled all the consorts, then turned back to the water. She submerged herself once more before rising from the lake with dripping coat wrapped tightly around her svelte form.

She made for the bank quickly, though there was a tug in her heart when she parted from the Mother. She settled herself on her side near the edge, then bent to rake her tongue and teeth across one arm. At length she lifted her head, fixing Greyjoy once more in her sights, and then brusquely said, “what are you waiting for? Attend me.” Greyjoy was Aktaiê's pet, as it were—though she had never guessed at his feelings toward their matriarch—but Psamathe called on the grooming of any and all consorts, regardless of their stations or preferences.

LOL, yessss! That's totally him. lol

Greyjoy surveyed the land surrounding their lake, taking in as much as he could. One day this information might be important to remember; even if it wasn't, it kept his eyes busy, and Psamathe couldn't accuse him of staring anymore. From his peripheral vision he noticed her dive once more, then climb from the waters a few moments later to sit upon the shore.

He saw her head bow to a leg and begin grooming it, though he did not truly pay attention until her brusque voice called out, “what are you waiting for? Attend me.” Greyjoy turned toward her and followed her command, picking his way across the damp, sandy shores of the lake. He paused before her, lowering himself to her feet, lifting his muzzle toward her chin to seek permission to touch her.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he approached, feeling the usual swell of superiority as he paused and sought approval. Her dusky eyes remained on him for a moment, her lip quivering over her teeth as she silently dared him to make a move against her... But Greyjoy never had. Never would. Nevertheless, she did not trust him, and greeted him in the same cold manner every time.

She dipped her snout earthward, granting him his permission, and settled to be groomed. Though Psamathe had no words for Greyjoy, she did speak up after a pregnant silence, if only because her mind was weighted down with questions she could not answer. “You were a hoplite,” she observed stonily, pinning the word to the air as though it was something vile. “Why would you leave and give up that title? What is it that draws you to my sister?” For she knew. They all knew.

Not expressly, of course. There had never been any open exchange between Greyjoy and Aktaie to make anyone nervous about his devotion. But Psamathe could feel that the male's devotion to the High Priestess exceeded all other devotions, and that alone made her curious, if not put off.

Greyjoy saw Psamathe's upper lip quivering in the corner of his vision, but he was sure to keep still. He had never hurt her and never would, but she was wary around men of any sort. After a moment she granted him permission, so Greyjoy gathered himself up and set to grooming her, focusing on her shoulders and legs first. He would move to the other parts of her later, but this was easiest.

A pregnant silence stretched between them, but Greyjoy had been trained never to break it unless absolutely necessary. Eventually Psamathe spoke, asking him why he had left safety and title to come with Aktaiê. The question had been posed to him before, both by the sirens and by his own mind, and there was not a suitable answer he could give quickly.

However, he did have something prepared. "I am still a hoplite, μύστης,"he said, pausing between nibbling on a particularly knotted clump of fur. "Much as you are still an adept, no matter where you go. It is not something you cast aside, even now, away from the salt waters." He bent once more to her leg, dragging his tongue carefully and gently across her fur.

"Aktaiê offered me exploration, adventure, and a chance to serve her and the Nereides in a way different from most men. I have been allowed to escort you here, to provide my strength in building a Nereides branch here, among these heathens. Exploring the world appealed to me, especially in this company and for this purpose."

Wrapping up Psamathe threads, so one more post from you will make this 10! Thank you!

She listened, though it was with a begrudging grimace. If she'd had her way, the males wouldn't have titles at all, but she wasn't old enough to make suggestions that changed their way of life. The scryer had her talents but her responsibilities and power were limited. At times, she felt trapped by her upbringing, but never would she question being a siren. The only questions she ever had surrounded the males and why they even gave them any attention whatsoever.

"There is no difference here," she said curtly, rising suddenly and likely brushing him aside in the process. She turned sharp eyes on him and lifted her lip over one sharp canine as though to remind him he was beneath them all. "You are still male. You are still a consort and you serve no differently." All she really wanted to do was put him down, though. Feeling like she'd accomplished this, the scryer dismissed herself from him, seeking the comfort of the lake once more.

Greyjoy understood her reasoning, and understood that he did not have to believe what she said. He would agree with her, let her speak her mind, but that didn't mean he also believed that he was simply a male consort. He was a hoplite, after all, which was an honor bestowed upon few men in their society. Greyjoy finished bathing her in silence, and soon they departed to seek shelter for the night.