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Molpe isn’t opposed to luring sailors into the water with her songs. In fact, she quite enjoys it. Not much happens out in the ocean, so she might as well make the most of it. And sometimes, when a ship is particularly small, she and the others are able to sink it so they can loot through its treasures.
But she’s not supposed to be there. The other girls only know the surrounding water, the plants and animals below. They were born out here, created by ocean and song. For them, the sea is their home. For her, it’s a prison.
They don’t know what it’s like to feel grass beneath their feet, see the soft blooms of irises, or fresh fruit against their tongues. They don’t know what it’s like to lounge under trees, whiling away the days singing, laughing, dancing. Dry. Delightfully dry. Surrounded by the bright smiles of other girls like her, their duty to keep their Lady happy and entertained and safe.
“Molpe,” Teles says, swimming up to her. Her skin shimmers like pearls, hair soft like seaweed. “There’s another ship headed this way.” She smiles, then.
The way Teles’ lips turn up, sweet but with a little mischief, reminds Molpe so much of her Lady. It’s cruel, really, the way each new siren that forms amid the waves has traits in common with her Lady. As if her punishment isn’t already cruel enough. Raidne’s eyes, Thelxiope’s laugh. Aglaope’s hand gestures.
“So soon after the last one?” Molpe asks, following Teles.
“They’re headed straight towards us. Fifty or so of them.”
In the distance, Molpe sees a boat. It’s larger than the last one, clearly banged up by its past travels. Her eyes never used to be this good before, but now she can pick out almost all the men on deck.
Molpe finds the captain easily, barking orders. There’s something in the way he holds himself, the haunted look about him, that has her curious. There’s determination on his face, sure, but something else too.
“I want the captain. The rest of you can have the others,” Molpe says. She wasn’t created like the others; she can only enchant one person at a time with her voice. There’s still a human element to the way she sings—it’s how her song occasionally blends with the ocean to create another siren—while the others’ melodies are smooth and powerful enough to enchant multiple people at once.
Teles looks at Molpe for a second too long. Then, finally, she says, “I’ll let the other girls know.” And, with a flick of her tail, Teles dives under the water and speeds ahead.
Molpe’s neck prickles at the stare; she can tell that the others know there’s something she isn’t saying. They know she created them all with help from the ocean—Molpe could call them her daughters, but she doesn’t—and they know she was the first one here.
But Molpe keeps her past close to her chest. Not only is it painful looking back on memories with her Lady, but because she doesn’t want to ruin the other sirens’ fun. A siren’s duty is to sing sailors to their deaths.
They can’t be dissatisfied with their life when they don’t know what they’re missing. Only Molpe carries that burden, and it’s one she doesn’t wish to spread. Especially since she’ll never get back there again. Her wings were ripped off; her tail keeps her sealocked.
She had a different duty, once, but failed to protect her Lady. And now she faces the consequences.
~~~
Molpe vocalizes, slowly making her way to the ship where the captain is leaning dangerously over the edge. She likes starting with a melody before adding in words. It gives her time to figure out what she should be singing about, who she’s meant to pretend to be.
The captain misses his wife. He smells like poppies and, the closer she gets to him, the stronger the earthiness is. Longing drips out of every pore in his body, like he’s been bathing in it.
Molpe likes these kinds of sailors, the ones who desire a specific woman, rather than a woman. While she, herself, does not physically change, she can feel her enchantment run across her body like the shallowest cut from a sword—from the crown of her head down to her toes. It affects the way the captain sees her. There’s a phantom softness of a chiton wrapping her body, heavy jewelry around her neck and wrists that aren’t really there.
Her enchantment is swift and sure. There’s no wave of hesitation as her magic tries to figure out what her victim wants to see, elongating the pain she feels.
The scent of poppy engulfs Molpe, and if she closes her eyes, she can almost picture herself in her Lady’s garden. (Yet another cruelty to her punishment, to be reminded of her Lady every time a ship passes). She doesn’t think she’s encountered a sailor like this before. Most men want, surrounded by the sharpness of roses. This is different. This is a need.
“Don’t you miss me?” Molpe sings, trying to coax him into the water, and she can see the captain’s answer in his eyes, his mouth, his body. His entire being screams his reply. Terribly so.
It’s then that Molpe recognizes the look on the captain’s face that initially drew her in. It’s deeper than just love, it’s devotion. Utter and complete devotion to his wife.
When Molpe used to look in her Lady’s birdbath, into the clear water, she saw the same expression on her own face. Her Lady was the most important person in her life; she would have died for her. Would still die for her, now, wherever she is.
And when her Lady was abducted, Molpe flew far and wide along with the other girls in search of her. She was inconsolable for days, hardly sleeping or eating. Searching for her was the only thing on her mind. This was her duty. To protect her Lady. Who vanished without a trace while picking flowers.
Her Lady’s mother was furious when she found out her daughter was gone. Tearing the wings off Molpe and the other girls, she launched and scattered them into the ocean where they grew tails. They were unable to mourn together, forced apart.
Until she knows for certain that her Lady no longer walks the earth, Molpe will not stop attempting to figure out a way to find her, to make sure she’s safe. Nothing will stop her; it will take time to piece together what happened, where her Lady was taken. She sometimes wishes sailors would scoop her up and bring her to land, even though she can’t be out of water for too long. Perhaps her Lady’s been found already, and Molpe is stuck here in the middle of the ocean where news travels about as fast as a sea slug.
She would do anything to see Lady Persephone again.
Molpe supposes it’s no surprise, then, that the captain feels the same about Penelope. And Molpe is in his way.
Sinking to the bottom of the ocean, her tail brutally separated from her body, she can see the captain staring down at her through the water. It’s like looking into her Lady’s birdbath one last time.