It was beautiful, he remembers, tranquil, even dovish.
The ocean folded, and curled into waves that carded through each other before nipping the shore and rolling back. It was a gentle motion, slowly hynotising as the moon rippled like the tides did, stretching along the darkened waters in a white light. Luminous, effulgent, brilliant.
The beach is large, he remembers. It must be early summer.
Under the waves, there was a voice. It wasn't terribly appealing, but enough to catch his mind, and tug on his lonely heart. There had been another here, and that alone was enough to allow him the energy and hope to put a face to that voice. Perhaps, they would leave together.
He found the voice, he found it rounding another side of the island, sitting on the damp shore, mindlessly drawing in the sand. He could see it, and almost wished he hadn't. Surely a mermaid couldn't sing like that, if anything, it sounded worse up close, and only served as a remembrance of his brother's terrible voice.
It was awkwardly pitched, often breaking, and dropping more than a few octaves, and if it had been properly supported, it would have been a soft tenor. It was scratchy, the few words within the melody were clipped off short, and sour. The light of the moon did the creature no justice. Her hair was tangled and short, mussed up beyond belief, looking more like a shade of dirty, than the blonde that was barely visible underneath. The tail a sickly green.
Surely it wasn't a mermaid, he remembers. It was a male.
It turned to him, face flushed, pouting lips in a frown. It reached for him, claws instead of the soft, delicate fingers he had expected. It had a strong face, cheekbones high and bright in the moon, emerald eyes set deep within his face, crowned by dark brows, his jaw was a little too sharp. This creature was unnaturally thin, and he doesn't know why he approached it in the first place.
He doesn't remember, he remembers, to protest.
Perhaps he had no need to do so.
As the thrashing waves become a numb humming, he doesn't find himself caring as he is dragged underneath the water. The beast (as he dubbed it, despite it's origin and gentle face) was kind. It slowly caressed his neck, and face as he choked out water after breathing it in so deeply at least twice by now. It frowned, almost sadly, before kissing him twice on both cheeks and whispering a 'Matthew' and pulling him down further. (He hadn't questioned how it was heard so clearly underwater, his mind was else where.) The light from the water was almost gone, as was he, but fear was not present.
He doesn't protest, still, he remembers, even as he saw the bones of previous beauties and delights, and even as he see's the white gold fleur-de-lis that had no doubt belonged to his elder brother whom had disappeared no more than two weeks ago.
He still sees flesh and hair, he remembers. Before he can look again, he's far too gone.
His body his placed upon the pile off bones, and his necklace if snapped off and placed near his brothers.
Maybe I should place the metal on the shore, it ponders. The metal is starting to smell.
But, he has weeks yet before another visit to the surface.