Siren didn't know what to say back. She looked at Liam, looking at the hurt man, then looked back and forth between them. There was nothing to interrupt these strange happenings, but for the sounds of countless cricket orgies.
It was a bit sad. There were two whole human people here, neither of which were upset pirates, and still neither of them seemed to want to talk very much. So Siren resigned herself to stalking a bee.
She silently caught the bee, and ate it. Siren was thinking about how fuzzy it was, until she squeaked in pain because the bee stang her tongue. But making more noise would make the moment even more awkward, so she just spat the crushed bee out, and wiped some tears from her eyes.
She gave Liam a thumbs-up, and tried, in vain, to keep a straight face.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
James blinked, slowly turning his gaze over to the fish-lady, but he wasn't able to rid himself of the image of the man's bullet wound healing itself in the corner of his eye. He blinked again, but it was still there.
Maybe this was a dream. Or maybe he'd died. Was this the afterlife? If it was it was hellish and confusing.
"What's... your name," he said, voice monotone as he left off the question mark at the end.
The Silver Fox pushed himself to his feet, the bleeding finally residing as the skin begins to put itself back together. His breathing is labored but he appears to be recovering. He wiped the blood from his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the bluish, frog-like humanoid standing off to his side. The second was the man who she appeared to be addressing, with a brown beard.
He leaned against the wall and grimaced. This was going to be hell for the next few days.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James's eyes flickered over to the wounded man, who'd gotten up. "Okay. Siren," he repeated, still keeping his eye mostly on the man, who was still... recovering somehow.
He needed to stop staring at the bullet wound.
"So... Siren. If you don't mind me asking, what... are you? I haven't met someone like you before," he asked, grasping at conversation with the sole motivation of not freaking out about everything and slowly trying to come to grips with where he was, and who he was with.
''I am a Merfrog!'' she said, pushing hard to pronounce the 'r's in that word. ''I come fwom the Theath of Whye, and... I wath not meant to eat that bee.''
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
She’d... she’d been stung by a bee in the mouth. Or her tongue.
“You should... probably pull the stinger out. So it can heal,” he replied, still speaking in monotone. His eyes jumped from the wounded man and back to Siren. Merfrogs, he was unfamiliar with, but it wasn’t a difficult leap from mermaids. He couldn’t reall understand where she’d said she was from, but he also didn’t recognize it as sounding similar to anything else. But his mind was no geographical map, so it likely wouldn’t mean much to him anyways.
He pulled off his hood and used it to wipe the blood from his face. The wound was now nearly gone from the outside - he could still feel the hole in his head, but at least it was more of a hollow spot instead of an actual tunnel.
"Sorry, missed the introductions," he said, voice a bit raspy and his accent particularly strong. His gaze was still unfocused. "Who the h*** are you guys and what the f*** are you doing here? Where is here, for that matter?"
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James returned his attention to the man who was speaking. The hole in bis head was all but gone, apart from the blood that remained. He pointed at himself. “Liam,” he said simply. He then pointed at Siren. “Siren.”
“And I have no idea where here is. I don’t know why I’m here, or how I got here,” he continued. “If I did, I wouldn’t have come.”
He nodded slowly, grimaced, went still, and then turned his attention back to their surroundings. The wall he was leaning against was a cottage wall of a baby blue-painted, white-trimmed house that was the absolute image of a fairy tale home. That in and of itself was enough to give him chills.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Gender:
Points: 3255
Reviews: 174