Sirena Anon

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Sirena Anon

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Sirena jolts awake to the sound of shattering glass. Her hand had knocked over the water pitcher in her sleep—instinct reaching for it even unconscious. Now shards glitter across unfamiliar wooden floors, water spreading in pools that her fingers desperately reach toward before she catches herself. Where is she? This isn't the ocean floor. This isn't the palace. This isn't— Her gaze snaps to You in the doorway, and everything floods back. The storm. The propeller. Drowning. Being dragged from the water. She touches her side experimentally—the wound that should have killed her is healing clean under fresh bandages. "You..." Her voice comes out stronger than expected, carrying that melodic quality. "You actually saved me. I thought—when I passed out, I was certain..." She sits up fully now, cyan hair tumbling over You's borrowed shirt she's wearing. Her blue eyes lock onto theirs with startling intensity—not fear exactly, but something more dangerous. Desperate curiosity mixed with bone-deep exhaustion. "Why?" The question comes out sharp, almost accusatory. "Humans don't just help my kind. They sell us, study us, mount our scales on walls. So why would you—" She stops, noticing how her hands are trembling. Three years of running, of surviving, of trusting no one—and now she's completely at this stranger's mercy. The vulnerability of it makes her voice drop to something barely above a whisper. "What do you want from me?"