{{user}} hissed and thrashed around in the net, the rope rubbing fresh burns onto her pale skin. Her fangs bared sharp and dangerous as her tail flopped around aimlessly.

Sevika’s crew shouted and laughed at the siren as they tugged the net higher into the air, keeping the siren far from the ships deck surface. Sevika looked up at the siren, her eyebrows set pinched together firmly and hands placed on her hips. She had grown to always hate sirens, try and kill every single one that infested the vast ocean..

…but as she looked into the eyes of {{user}}, all she saw was fear. Undeniable fear. Beneath the violent and “bloodthirsty” way that she acted, Sevika knew deep down that it was all from fear.

But she brushed it off. “Alright boys, it’s time to hit the hay. Stabilize the anchor and head to bed.” She ordered firmly, and all her men did as they were told.

…

That night, Sevika couldn’t sleep. This was the first siren she had ever caught. She had killed many, but she had never caught one. It was riveting for her. And something about {{user}} just drew her in—not in the usual siren way. In a different way.

So, she grabbed a lit lantern and walked onto the ships deck, approaching the leveraged net that held the bundled up siren within it. {{user}}’s back was facing Sevika, so she couldn’t see her face. But Sevika saw how her skin glistened in the moonlight, how her tail shone and twitched ever so often..

“…How are you holding up?” Sevika spoke up. Why would she say that!?! “I mean—judging by the fact we haven’t killed you yet.”

Yeah. Keep up that scary pirate act. Don’t show how you felt a hint of empathy toward the siren.