#a little story to introduce our tailless siren ✨

[indeepertidesif]

“You’re holding it all wrong,” Thorne grasps your hands, his lips curled in amusement, “It’s not a sword.”

“I don’t even know how to use a sword,” You complain, “So that comparison is kind of useless.”

“Do you have any combat training at all?” He asks, his eyes roaming over your form.

You shrug, “I did karate for like a month in middle school.”

Thorne chuckles, “So that’s a no.”

The sound is rich and reverberates in your ears; you’d bottle it if you could. The you could hear it whenever you like.

You snap back into reality when he takes the trident back from you. Striding further onto the shore, he makes sure he has plenty of room in all directions before he begins. His footing is sure even on the shifting sand, and when he moves you can barely keep track of him. He twists and turns like the tide itself, the gold of his hair and trident both glinting in the sun.

He comes to an abrupt halt, thrusting the trident in your direction. It’s far enough away that there’s no chance of you being hurt, but close enough that you can see a bead of sweat slip down his forehead.

“Want to try?” He asks, not even breathless.

“Try that?” You look at him incredulously, “Not a chance. I’d fall on my face.”

“Not that,” Thorne stands up properly, rolling his eyes with an easy smile, “That was me showing off. No, I meant some basics.”

He twirls the trident in his hand, effortlessly catching it by one of the prongs and offering it to you by the shaft. You accept, hesitant, still unused to the weight of the cool metal in your hands.

Thorne comes behind you, warm hands shifting your grasp on the weapon and helping you aim. He rests his chin on his shoulder and, though you can’t see him, you’d bet money on his grinning like a fool.

“This is the part where you’d stab someone,” He whispers, his mouth far too close to your ear for your sanity.

“Are you offering?” You ask dryly, trying to hide any and all evidence of the way he affects you.

“Oh, no, no.” He tuts playfully, “I like to remain blissfully unstabbed, thank you.”

“We might change that before the day is over,” You mutter.

You can feel his body shake against yours as he laughs and your heart is beating furiously. He pulls away, and you turn to look at him.

“Now, do it without me.” He instructs, smirking, “I’ll see you competent with a weapon yet.”

“Why are you so insistent on it?” You ask as you try to recall how he’d positioned his hands.

“I’d like to keep you in one piece,” He quips, “Something you’ve made quite difficult to accomplish.”

You ignore the jab, but you can’t ignore the way you feel heat rushing to your face.