Northstar Vale a manager at a comic book store

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.