longer.blue

Agonizing moments passed, as he awaited the inevitable pain. The mermaid's breaths were steady against his throat, his arms bruising under her continued grip. Any second she would strike, but nothing came. No teeth or claws at his throat or gut, just the sudden feeling of being dropped back into the water with a splash. When he finally dared to open his eyes again, he could hear her breathing no longer. The siren was still close, but now in a trance of contemplative thought, this time the subject of her attention far more obvious. She was holding open his coat, her claws tearing the already abused wet fabric, and she stared at the inscription he’d sewn on the inside. “Did you make this?” She did not look at him.