I wake. Upon my return to consciousness I make a decision. I will not allow myself to die in the water, unable to breathe or transform. Instead, I shall bide my time and wait until I can escape. Suicide is not an option I wish to pursue, I've learned that now. So it is with a rather heavy heart that I take to looking after little Moonshine.
Luckily for me, this does not seem to require much aside from watching him stumble around the ship with his young, unsure feet. His parents don't seem to interact with him that often outside of mealtimes or whenever the mother spontaneously decides that the family needs to spend time together. I could be wrong, I haven't exactly been abducted for much longer than a week. Will I even bother to keep track of the days? I can scarcely recall them due to the sheer amount of hurt I've been experiencing and when that is paired with how I keep slipping into trances to avoid said agony, it becomes very hard to even want to remember each passing day.
I look on at the child running about the ship's deck excitedly, bobbing in between crew members as he plays some game only he understands. He is three years old. Will his birthdays serve as my timekeeper? As he grows so does my time spent in captivity… can I even hope that it will be a short period anymore? This infernal contraption bound to my neck has me considering that I'm in for quite the extended stay here on this horrendously luxurious ship. Luxurious in ways only the pirates can enjoy…
How long can I survive out of the water? Without feeding? Already, my skin has begun to dim, less and less will there be a visible glimmer. While it might take the humans months, perhaps even years to notice, my eyes can tell. The changes are so awfully detectible to me. I've got to get out of here. Doing so requires this collar to be removed. I must learn more about it, find out what waters it does and does not react to, and how it knows I am in said waters. The scrawny little engineer is long gone now so I cannot possibly ask him. And I imagine the key is used to unlock it is now in the possession of one of the married Wrathes. Neither of whom I can charm into giving it to me.
What of their butler Transom? I wonder… his convenient walk into my line of sight permits consideration in my quest to learn all there is to know about this torturous device. Who's to say he even knows anything about the collar? Just because he and the crew were in on the plans to collar me does not mean that he understands the technology composing it. I am still too weak to try and entice anyone despite my gnawing hunger even though I could solve two problems in one go by feeding on him. However, if I were to pursue that course of action, I honestly think that I would never be trusted upon this ship—meaning that I cannot exploit that trust—and no one would ever approach me without protection. Worst of all, they might even kill me for "harming" their beloved butler. That's only if I was unable to escape after acquiring knowledge from him. What if he knows nothing? Then abusing the kindness he has shown me will be for naught.
My inner turmoil has now come full circle. I suppose the best thing I can do is to conduct some "experiments" in order to test the abilities and determine the purpose behind the malicious thing denying me my freedom. I must learn all I can so that I may pass on the information to my kinfolk once I have escaped. Any tests must wait until Moonshine has gone to bed and it will be easier to maintain the secrecy needed for this project since the adults will most likely retire to their chambers.
The sun advances across the sky in its typical slow-paced dance and life on the deck moves in a hazy blur. I shouldn't be able to retreat from reality this easily, I should not be so willing to withdraw from the world as frequently as I have been doing but it's either this or stare emptily into space whilst feeling every degree of pain that my body emits. My existence is sad, pitiful even, but there is nothing I can do about it… for now.
At last, evening arrives and an exhausted little one finally goes off to bed. The crew members change over; the nightly patrol comes above deck while the daytime workers go to spend their final hours doing whatever it is pirates enjoy as recreation prior to sleeping. After double-checking to make sure no one is paying too much attention to me, I set off to retrieve the items I shall need for my test: two buckets, one filled with fresh water and the other with water from the ocean. I shall also need a cloth, but I am unwilling to ask someone to give me one. Instead, I'll just use the shirt I've been forced into wearing.
Trofie, Moonshine's glamorous mother, decided that my natural clothing is too much of a distraction and not ladylike enough for me to be around her son. She then provided me with several armloads of hand-me-downs of very high quality and in good condition. I couldn't figure out why she would show me such kindness but then I realized this isn't her being kind. The way she looked at the articles and sneered tells me that these garments are disposable since they are now out date or no longer fashionable. They are worthless to her, which is why I am worthy of wearing them. I don't care much for fashion so I don't mind one way or another. Since I lack the strength to expend on less revealing natural wear, I'll make do with the human ones. I will say that these things are very frustrating to wear though. Why must there be so many layers? Who decided that a female cannot just wear a shirt, but must also wear a corset over it too? I will only wear enough to be humanly presentable and nothing more.
I find the materials I need save for the seawater, which requires me to get a rope so that I can hoist the bucket back up onto the ship as I have no intention of climbing down to the water's edge. Knowing my luck, I would either fall in and experience immense pain, or someone would think I was trying to escape and would probably toss one of their Siren-proof nets to recapture me. After being netted I would then fall into the water where the pain will be escalated ten-fold and where I will surely die.
Well, if I'm going to get anywhere without dying and without being accused of escape I need to start looking for some rope. I start walking around the deck, trying to act inconspicuous and I almost made it a decent distance before I was approached.
"Looking for something Miss?" a gentle voice from behind me asks. I turn around to find none other than the power couple's butler, Transom, speaking to me.
"Oh um, I was looking for some rope," I admit nervously. Maybe he will supply me with what I need and won't ask many questions in return?
"For what purpose?" he inquires somewhat suspiciously, an eyebrow raised on his mildly aged face. Life on a pirate ship must be very stressful for the staff.
I had not let go of the bucket I needed to fill with sea water and I brandished it while I spoke. "I'd like to fill this with seawater but I cannot find a rope to tie it off with and I would rather not risk falling into the ocean." I tap the collar for emphasis.
"Is that all?"
"Um yes?" I'm nervous and more than a little confused. Does he think I'm dishonest? Or is he concerned about my intentions? There's very little I can do when armed with two buckets of water, aside from get someone decently wet.
"Right this way Miss er… I did not catch your name?" he begins walking and I trot after him. Various men on deck stop to look at him and then me; probably checking to see if he is under my control and that I'm not leading him to his doom.
"Your masters call me 'Sirena.'" I say quietly, thinking back to the hours before when I was named.
Little Moonshine had be running about, as is his chief predisposition when he had stopped abruptly and began to stare at me. Apparently, he had wanted to get my attention since I was not paying any mind but he did not know what to call me. Instead of asking me, he turned to his father for the answer. The older Wrathe looked at me, eyes a deep velvet purple and his brow furrowed with concentration. Even if I told him either of my names, he wouldn't be able to pronounce them, for only Sirens can speak one another's true names in Sirenic. Furthermore, neither of them fit me now. Siren names are very much tied to our emotional state; I do not feel pleasantly content or in the happy medium when it comes to my emotions as Mezzo would call for, and while I do certainly feel detached and separated from a great deal of things like Staccato suggests, it doesn't sit right.
My bewilderment at this state of being unnamed is kept internal, humans couldn't possibly understand. Barbarro didn't even bother to ask. Instead, he christened me. A simplistic, made up name for my made up lifestyle. "Her name is… Sirena." Pronounced as Serena by some, and Siren-uh by others. To little Moonshine, I was "Rena" for short. His clumsy mouth couldn't handle all the vowels and consonants, so being a child of his age he solved the issue by shortening it. I will say the name is cute, it matches the youngling from which it came. I won't accept this new name as my own, but I will respond to it on occasion if only to keep the small one from becoming too frustrated.
"Well then, Miss Sirena," he says with a wave, "we shall see that you have your rope, provided you don't plan on harming yourself with it?"
So that's what he was concerned about. "I hadn't even thought about it." That is the truth. If I refuse to die in the water then I'm certainly not going to die above it.
"Then pray tell, what do you plan on doing with the water after you have acquired it?" now he is just being nosy. Most likely to report back to his masters.
"I thought I would take a bath." If I felt like being funny, that would have been a great joke. The only problem is, I lack a sense of humor. Blame being Staccato all my life or blame the fact that I am prisoner to a bunch of pirates; either or.
"In saltwater? Well, to each his or her own I suppose…" Transom seems concerned but that doesn't stop him from leading me to a coil of rope. He pulls a knife from within his coat and slices off a fair portion for me. After gathering it together he hands it off, I thank him for his assistance and turn to leave.
"Good luck with your testing Miss Sirena…" he calls out to me once I have left his vicinity. How did he know I was going to conduct experiments? It's probably not that hard to piece together. Two buckets, two types of water…
He must have been watching me, even before I was conscious of the idea that someone could be spying upon me. In the future, I must be more aware of potential prying eyes. I make my way back to the deck where my first bucket lays in waiting, the place is more deserted than before. All for the best I suppose, if I am to willingly inflict agony upon myself, I might as well do it where there are less witnesses.
Once I've gathered some saltwater I decide to tear a piece of my skirt off rather than use part of my shirt. Since there could be a number of unseen people eyeing me I would rather not add to their enjoyment of my spectacle.
I start with the fresh water. Cautiously, I dip my smallest finger into the bucket. Upon there being no sensation besides that of a finger becoming wet I proceed by adding my whole hand in. Next, I scoop a handful of water of and pour it out on my bare arm after rolling up my sleeves. Still nothing. The same results happened when I poured fresh water onto my left leg. Okay, so there's nothing when it's my limbs, but what about when my neck gets wet? I might as well go all in. Lifting the bucket with shaking hands I upend it and let its contents rush over me. I had closed my eyes tightly in anticipation of the pain from before and yet not came. I had succeeded in getting wet and slightly rehydrating my skin. Some of the hurt from being out of the water dissipated but only marginally. The real source of life for us comes from the ocean's waters, not the kind that humans need to drink to survive.
The first part of my trials now over, I reach for the second bucket with mildly trembling hands. I could not survive on human bath water alone. I might be able to prolong death if I can derive some morsel from saltwater, but it would have to be on a daily basis. We shall see if my abductors are kind enough to afford me such a luxury; that's even if I'm able to touch the stuff.
Like only minutes before, I bring the tip of the smallest finger of my other hand to the surface of the water hoping to minimalize the potential hurt. There is something. A very small, miniscule something, but a sensation exists. It is not one of agony though, but joy. I can feel the currents from whence these droplets came, imagine the clouds that borne them, delight in the insight of freefalling from the heavens to the ocean's surface below. Without stopping to think I plunge as much of my arm as I can into the bucket with hopes of exploiting the wonderful feeling of my strength being renewed. I lose track of how long I remained that position, kneeling with my arms in this small vessel of ambrosia—at some point I had brought the other one into the mix. It isn't until I sense that bucket has gone dry, that is to say, the water is now stale, do I toss what remains back into the sea and trawl for fresher contents.
I cannot describe what it is we Sirens absorb through exposure to seawater, only that our very physiology depends on it. To know that I could touch the water again, place my limbs in it, and not be tortured for it is unexplainably fantastic. So what does the collar react to then? After testing my legs—I had to obtain another two buckets worth of water because I poured so much out onto both of them—and savoring each drop that touched my skin I felt rejuvenated enough to make withstanding pain for a few seconds possible.
Two fingers now wetted with ocean water, I run them along the outside of the collar. There was no effect. After rewetting them, I slipped them to the inside space between the collar and my skin. At last, there was brutal feeling, even if it was just uncomfortable tingling in that particular spot where the water had gone. It was minute compared to what I had felt after diving overboard. The sensation dissipated rapidly, and never rose above the feeling of discomfort. Is this because the interior is only partially exposed to this particular water? What if I were to completely submerge it for a few seconds?
Being already in slight pain makes increasing the severity seem easier—I was lying to myself—and I dump the entire bucket on myself like before. In a more brief but just as eerie happenstance similar to yesterday's, the torture exploded through my body after the collar became submerged in the water, albeit far more slowly. Reacting quickly, I reached for the dry strip of skirt cloth I had kept out of the water's reach and dry the collar's interior, exterior, and my neck as best as I can. The pain that will not fail to encompass all dwindles away and I am now coherent enough to reflect on what just happened.
I did not even get to enjoy the revitalizing my hair should have experienced like the rest of my skin did, in fact, there wasn't any sort of transformation at all. When I placed my hands in the buckets earlier, they took on the normal look of Siren hands when in water. There was no slowness or stopping to this transformation, the little webbing between each finger developed without a hitch.
Yet when I exposed the collar to absolute wetness brought on by ocean water it manages to stop any and all transformations completely via flooding my body with horrible pain. But when there is very little saltwater exposure it tingles and then stops. How is this possible? This device must be able to detect the difference between a few drops of ocean water, such as the result of ocean spray in high winds versus overwhelming volumes of the liquid, which would typically occur when I am in the water. By preventing my ability to transform or think rationally, I lose my means of escape. If I insist on swimming in the ocean water the device will eventually rob me of all strength. These factors all lead to one result: my death.
I cannot swim properly without being fully submerged. I cannot escape if this collar is still in place. I cannot break this device at my current level of strength. The key to unlock it is out of my reach. My chances for escape have been drastically reduced while this atrocity is still wrapped around my neck.
In the future, I can see if I can get away with waterproofing the collar in order to prevent it from doing its evil work. While I am at it, I should try to discover what it is that is affecting me so and how it managed to get inside my body. Sirens don't have blood in the same sense that humans do that much is for sure, so if it's a toxin or poison what is it impacting? How does the human rat know how to engineer such technology?
So many questions, so many revelations.
The most important question of all dawns on me as I stack the buckets in a corner of the deck by a staircase. My clothes drip water wherever I walk so I choose to remain on deck as they dry out with the ocean breeze—I don't think Trofie would like it if I were to drip saltwater all over her expensive rugs.
How long can I survive with this monster binding me to the surface?