Life under the sea isn't as bad as it may seem to most. The crashing waves, the fish, the constant taste of salt… None of it bothers one as much as the thick silence that fills the ears. Admittedly, Lapis Lazuli is a lonely siren. There are others, sure, but she'd grown up around them. They'd seen her through the awkward stages, through the dulling scales and the gangly limbs. Now, however, she's blossomed into a beautiful thing. Cerulean tail that shines like stars and hair the same color and lustre – it's hard to believe she hasn't been picked up by a wealthy socialite as a wife.
It isn't as if she's against the thought of a romantic partner, though it isn't unheard of in the community, no – she just isn't interested in what she's seen around her. It's all the same. Cold, scaly. Unfeeling.
The only really exciting days are the ones where a shadow blots out the sun, and everything is dark. The shadow could be anything – a whale passing, a clump of seaweed, or a ship. Ships are ideal, because there's not only the entertainment of crashing it, but meals are an added plus. Whales are fun to ghost, see how far they go until their migration is complete. Sometimes, she ends up in an entirely different part of the world.
Today is one of those exciting days, it seems, and Lapis surfaces to see the cause of the sudden shade. A ship! It's her lucky day, too, because she's mostly alone in this port. She beats her tail over to the rocky cliffside and hauls herself up onto a flat boulder – the perfect seat. It seems as if it were made for a siren to sit on, because it was. Centuries of luring sailors to their deaths has ground this sorry piece of sediment down.
The wooden vessel approaches at a snail's pace, bobbing in the waves. Upon closer inspection, the entire crew seems to be up on the poopdeck, milling around and doing whatever it is humans on boats do. The ship itself is grandly carved, with off-white sails billowing and proudly bowed hull. On the bow is a figurehead – a woman with soft features and long curled hair seems to look out, protecting the crew from harm. She's seen this one before – it's a common carving, apparently. Commonly known as Rose. She'd learnt the name from a sailor on one of her ships. His dying words were, "Rose, save us."
And then she'd ripped his throat out.