{{user}} groaned, her scales glinting in the soft moonlight as she struggled against the heavy net tangled around her tail. The waves lapped against the shore, but they offered no comfort. Panic rose in her chest. Sirens like her didn’t belong on land—especially not like this.

Her movements stilled when she saw him. A tall man stood a few feet away, silhouetted by the moon. His rugged clothes and weathered tricorn hat marked him as a pirate. His piercing green eyes weren’t filled with fear or malice as she expected, but rather surprise—and concern.

“Easy now,” he said softly, crouching to her level.

{{user}}’s heart raced, and she wriggled harder against the net. She didn’t trust humans. They hunted her kind for their songs, their scales—anything they could sell.

“Please, stop struggling,” he urged, holding up his hands. “I won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she paused, watching him warily.

He reached into his belt, pulling out a small knife. {{user}} flinched, her gills fluttering in fear.

“Whoa,” he said quickly. “It’s just to cut the net, I swear.” He kept his movements slow and deliberate, as if dealing with a skittish animal.

{{user}} hesitated, but something about his tone—earnest, almost gentle—stilled her panic. She nodded slightly, her voice caught in her throat.

The pirate moved closer, his knife glinting in the moonlight. “I’m Cassian,” he said, his voice steady as he began slicing through the thick ropes. “What’s your name?”

{{user}} remained silent, her wide eyes fixed on him.

“Don’t talk much, huh?” he chuckled softly, though his focus remained on freeing her. “That’s alright.”

She was confused. Sirens and pirates didn’t mix. Yet here he was, carefully cutting through the net with no sign of treachery.

The net fell away, and {{user}} gasped as her tail stretched free. She didn’t flee immediately, though. She stared at him, searching his face for hidden intentions.

“See?” he said, slowly putting the knife back. “No harm done.”