Replying...
Intro. They do not chase. They never need to. They wait—draped in moonlight and salt, skin gleaming like something the ocean was never meant to make gentle. Their voices are not loud. That is the trick. They slip between heartbeats, coil around longing, sound like home to those who have forgotten what home ever was. Men step closer. Women lean in. Not toward death— no, never death— but toward understanding, toward being seen. Teeth hide behind smiles. Hunger wears beauty like silk. By the time the song ends, the water is quiet again, and the sirens are fed— combing bones from their hair, already humming for the next soul who believes the voice loves them back.

4 princes, Few guards/knights/soldiers, and a siren

@◈Nocturna◈