Thalassa
She scoffs at the misplaced confidence, wondering when the woman would get the hint that she isn't wanted. Maybe she just needs to knock some more sense into her. That can certainly be arranged on another day, but for now, Thal grunts at the open admission and silently takes note of the information. She'd assumed Aithne wasn't from the Grounds, but she's not sure she would have guess the fallen city. It wasn't exactly the most pro-Ancient.
Once Aithne has grabbed her drink and settled in, she takes a burdensome breath to prepare the story. "They say the first mermaid wasn't as kind or helpless as people think they were," she begins matter-of-factly. She flicks a hand to dismiss the men talking below, stating facts they can't have known. "No one remembers her name or why she was on the ship. Some say she was a prisoner - a wealthy woman captured in a raid or a criminal slave enroute to be sold. Others claim she was a sailor - a scullery maid in some stories, the captain in others." It didn't matter, but everyone had a motive in telling the story, and making the woman look weak or strong, good or evil could strengthen their case. Thal isn't one of those.
She shrugs her shoulders. "Whatever her reason for being there, all agree that she was the most beautiful of women - with the most enchanting voice. Hair and eye color change depending on the preferences of who's telling the story, but these truths always remain:" she raises her fingers to punctuate her points "strikingly beautiful and an unparalleled voice."
Her hand lowers to her knee again, the other swirling her glass as she tilts her head. "It drove the men mad, each fighting to claim the maiden's heart or voice in one way or another. It led to brawls and murders and desperate heists to impress her," she pauses to smirk, "but the woman wouldn't be swayed. She sang for herself, not them." Thal takes a sip of her bourbon, preparing for the next part of the story, the part she always thought to be the warning for women everywhere. "When they finally realized that they couldn't have her for themselves, the men banded together. If they couldn't have her, no one could." Her tone hardens, deepening with the tragedy of it all. "They jumped her in the night, slitting her throat first so they could pull her vocal cords from her neck. Then they hacked apart each and every limb and tossed it into a crab trap full of old fish to be tossed into the sea." Thal flicks her tail then continues on, "The next night, the shore came into view. The men were proud of the work they'd done, eager to reach the shore and brag of their time at sea."
Getting to her favorite part, she flashes Aithne a sharpened, bloody grin. "But the maiden wasn't done with them."
Thal leans slightly forward, voice dropping like a stalking predator. "Left to rot, her vengeful spirit had fused with those of the fish, turning her into a grotesque, horrifying beast of skin and scales. Her skin was the color of a corpse, hanging off her bony body, made loose by the seawater that bloated her features. Her hair hung in patches, tangled with seaweed and fish bones that lay at the bottom of the ocean. Her teeth and nails had sharpened to deadly points, cracked and yellowed as if she'd clawed from the cage herself. And her feet had fused into a ghastly tail that flaked apart as she shot out of the water to claim each man who'd made her into that monster." Her smile is deadly, vicious in its enjoyment of the men's suffering. "The men on shore heard screams and watched helplessly as the mutilated bodies were thrown into the water. And all the while, they heard the haunting sound of her melodic voice, laughing as she chopped away..." Fading her voice, the tangs of her horns catch the flicker of fire while shadows dance across her face. "They say you can still hear her sometimes - when you're approaching shore. She never quite lost the taste for blood." Thal runs her tongue across her fangs, sitting back onto the crate for a well-deserved sip of bourbon.
Once Aithne has grabbed her drink and settled in, she takes a burdensome breath to prepare the story. "They say the first mermaid wasn't as kind or helpless as people think they were," she begins matter-of-factly. She flicks a hand to dismiss the men talking below, stating facts they can't have known. "No one remembers her name or why she was on the ship. Some say she was a prisoner - a wealthy woman captured in a raid or a criminal slave enroute to be sold. Others claim she was a sailor - a scullery maid in some stories, the captain in others." It didn't matter, but everyone had a motive in telling the story, and making the woman look weak or strong, good or evil could strengthen their case. Thal isn't one of those.
She shrugs her shoulders. "Whatever her reason for being there, all agree that she was the most beautiful of women - with the most enchanting voice. Hair and eye color change depending on the preferences of who's telling the story, but these truths always remain:" she raises her fingers to punctuate her points "strikingly beautiful and an unparalleled voice."
Her hand lowers to her knee again, the other swirling her glass as she tilts her head. "It drove the men mad, each fighting to claim the maiden's heart or voice in one way or another. It led to brawls and murders and desperate heists to impress her," she pauses to smirk, "but the woman wouldn't be swayed. She sang for herself, not them." Thal takes a sip of her bourbon, preparing for the next part of the story, the part she always thought to be the warning for women everywhere. "When they finally realized that they couldn't have her for themselves, the men banded together. If they couldn't have her, no one could." Her tone hardens, deepening with the tragedy of it all. "They jumped her in the night, slitting her throat first so they could pull her vocal cords from her neck. Then they hacked apart each and every limb and tossed it into a crab trap full of old fish to be tossed into the sea." Thal flicks her tail then continues on, "The next night, the shore came into view. The men were proud of the work they'd done, eager to reach the shore and brag of their time at sea."
Getting to her favorite part, she flashes Aithne a sharpened, bloody grin. "But the maiden wasn't done with them."
Thal leans slightly forward, voice dropping like a stalking predator. "Left to rot, her vengeful spirit had fused with those of the fish, turning her into a grotesque, horrifying beast of skin and scales. Her skin was the color of a corpse, hanging off her bony body, made loose by the seawater that bloated her features. Her hair hung in patches, tangled with seaweed and fish bones that lay at the bottom of the ocean. Her teeth and nails had sharpened to deadly points, cracked and yellowed as if she'd clawed from the cage herself. And her feet had fused into a ghastly tail that flaked apart as she shot out of the water to claim each man who'd made her into that monster." Her smile is deadly, vicious in its enjoyment of the men's suffering. "The men on shore heard screams and watched helplessly as the mutilated bodies were thrown into the water. And all the while, they heard the haunting sound of her melodic voice, laughing as she chopped away..." Fading her voice, the tangs of her horns catch the flicker of fire while shadows dance across her face. "They say you can still hear her sometimes - when you're approaching shore. She never quite lost the taste for blood." Thal runs her tongue across her fangs, sitting back onto the crate for a well-deserved sip of bourbon.
As long as I'm here,
no one can hurt you.
no one can hurt you.
