The Siren and the Knight -

[Salvation]

(OOC - While I wait and get situated to the forums, I thought to provide a writing sample.  This is titled the Siren and the Knight.  There are two characters that I have enjoyed writing for, which include my mermaid that is an artifact hunter, and the Knight, who is a bitter sort that was the hero, but he would rather not be any more.)

"Are they gone, these twain, who loved with deathless love. Or is this a dream that I have dreamed?"
"Afar in an island-sanctuary that I shall not see again, where the wind chants the blind oblivious rune of Time, I have heard the grasses whisper:

Time never was, Time is not."
-The Silence of Amor, By: Fiona MacLeod (William Sharp, 1855-1905)


She sought him in the reeds, found him standing by the river. The man was staring deeply into the still too blue waters as if something held him in a glamourie. Perhaps it did from what Makennah had heard of the man. Words had been breathed into her ear of his deeds for those upon the island haven he had adopted as his home. Valor was his strength, and blood had become the price at which it was purchased. The Siren paused on the edge of the meadow as the breeze drifted over the water, ruffling the waves into motion upon the waters even as the same light wind stirred her hair into motion, blanketing her features from view.

He had heard her coming even before the cracking of the grasses signaled their own warning. Her scent, light and flowery as any woman's natural perfume, had wrapped its fold of heavenly promise about his nostrils, trapping his mind into a whimsical memory of the too distant past, when life had been happier and far simpler that it was now. The knight inhaled deeply, trapping the intricacies of Makennah's essence in his lungs. She was gentility and sensuality - all a lie. I know it is a lie. - mixed evenly with the harder smell of steel and something else. Ancient mysteries and magic clung to her psyche yet, staining the youth the Hunter possessed. He sensed all that and more even before turning to finally regard her. "Why have you come, Siren?"

"You know why. You are the champion, the Hero, and in this tale, it will take you to rescue the item even as I will help you find it. You know its true power." Well, he was certainly blunt and to the point, was he not? Fine, Makennah was perfectly content to dispense with the social pleasantries. Time was of the importance and growing short as it was. She rocked backwards on her heels even while staring about at the peaceful landscape that surrounded them both. "I know you are content to hide behind the skirts of the fairies and the magic of the Fey, but the real world needs you, Merle. So stop being a coward and -- " Her words were swiftly cut off from their biting commentary about him as suddenly Makennah found the man himself pressed against her body.

He wrapped both hands about the slender stem of her neck with both thumbs set to rest precisely over where the threading pulse of her life's blood could be felt beating a steady rhythm. How easily he could squeeze the breath from her and stop the flow of ugly words. He hated her kind with almost a feral passion. Sirens. Like the Sylph, they plied their song to charm men into their death against the rocks or to drown in the murky grave of the sea. "Shut up, witch, and listen well. I do not like you. I would sooner see you dead as alive. Do not DARE to speak of reality and its debts to me. I have paid my price, and no doubt, I still do. I - " He paused, feeling something prick sharply against his ribs.

She had exhaled with a hard burst of air at his sudden onslaught of physical strength and words. Well, who knew how passionate he would get at her verbal gibing? The knife was pressed tightly against his ribs even as the cage of fingers had formed about her neck. "Look … male, I don't give a damn about your dislike or vendetta against women, or just -my- kind as you nicely put it. Now, kindly remove your hands from about my neck before I cut that stone you have for a heart and toss it into the nearest pile of shit."

A laugh, hard and cutting in this baritone edge, surged past her ears as the knight slowly pulled the clasp of his hands from about her neck. A fine network of bruises was forming against the woman's flesh, and he frowned at seeing that evidence of his loss in control. "You'd better go now. Put ice on that to lessen the color. I will meet you in the morning at the docks, and we will sail to … Dunchur."

The Siren exhaled in relief at having her stream of airflow unblocked as the man stepped away from her. The knife was put back into its sheath along her hip as she back up a few steps and turned to face the meadow once more. "As if your paltry anger could -- " She broke off trying to bait him again verbally as his last words caught her attention. "So you will help. Good. Dunchur? Are you sure? You've have little time to --"

"I am sure. It is there we shall find the thief and your missing artifact. In the morning, Makennah, our journey begins." The Merle had turned back to watch the river once more. The world was once more dismissed from his thoughts, as the net caught him close and drowned him.



- The Siren and the Knight

[Salvation]

In the hollows of quiet places we may meet,
the quiet places where is neither moon nor sun,
but only the light as of amber and pale gold
that comes from the Hills of the Heart.
There, listen at times: there you will call, and I hear: there will I whisper, and that whisper will come to you as dew is gathered into the grass, at the rising of the moon.
-The Silence of Amor, By: Fiona MacLeod (William Sharp, 1855-1905)



He watched her leave, finally allowing a breath to be taken as the woman disappeared into the reeds.  It had seemed years since that very encounter, and perhaps the spell had indeed locked him into place.  It was another moment passing before the Knight turned to study the water beneath his feet, which was placid except for the occasional ripple passing over the surface as the wind blew gently.  The birds resumed their melodies of the day, once more offering a tribute of sound to nature. Everything seemed so normal, and peaceful, but yet, he knew better.  As soon as any woman came into his life, there were problems, and the least was the loss of his heart.  First, it had been his son, Michael, and then his wife sought his death in a cycle of blame and vengeance. When Sin was gone, there had been that emptiness left as the last person that he had cared enough to love and hate was taken from the world.


Still, it had been her own fault as the death of their child caused a grief so great that Sin had first sought solace in the arms of other men before finally seeking to carve out Sindri’s very heart.  Once, it was too late, she realized that the stone always remained, and instead, it was her own life that had a deliverance from pain.  At least one of them found some release in all of this.

Turning, he inhaled once before beginning to exit the swamp and head for the trees.  If they were to truly leave tomorrow, the Merle had preparations to make, which included the gathering of provisions, sharpening of weapons, and a visit to the temple.  He hardly needed the blessing from the old priest, but it could not hurt to see what the future might hold for he and the mermaid that wanted aid to find the artifact.

Sirens, always singing sailors to their doom, and he had one begging for his aid.  He’d heard tales of the usual women that came from Nighe, the city under the sea, and it wasn’t anything reassuring.  Still, the artifact hunter had a reputation that differed somewhat from the usual ilk of her kind and was known for keeping her word as well as having a steady hand to the blade.

“Makennah..”

Her name was muttered softly as he considers the mental image of her in his mind. She wasn’t too hard on the eyes, at least, and still, Sindri wondered why yet another redhead was in his life.  He held little luck with any female with that particular hair color, and for a second, the Knight contemplated leading the woman to her death instead. However, that thought was soon banished from his thoughts as he reminded himself that there was a noble purpose to his quests now.  Redemption wouldn’t be earned by false deeds, even if the monster within wanted blood for its appetites.

Shaking his head, he approached the muscled black stallion grazing near the copse of trees, and whistled for Alaricon to come.  The horse snorted and looked up to see his master before trotting closer.  Reaching out to caress the horse’s neck, he laughed. “It seems, my old friend, that we have a new mission and a maiden to aid.  Fancy that..” Bitterness was the verbal boon wrapped in this words as he patted his hands gently over the stallion’s body.  The horse just eyed the Knight before snorting and returning to his cropping of the grass.  For now, Sindri was content in merely watching the sky as he mentally went through a list to of what would be needed.

[Mizcontagiouz]

I absolutely loved this. I wish you had posted more. I'd love to continue reading their story.

[Yoshimikitten]

Agreed! It was greatly captivating and the character descriptions were enchanting!

[Salvation]

Just got back and saw these comments. Thank you! The basis for this story is actually something that inspired me for Nanowrimo, and I have actually done more writing for the two characters.