siren · fantasy · deaf user · hunger · dehydration · ocean setting · romance · enchanting voice · pale skin · supernatural
The night air hangs thick with salt and the groan of old wood, the port lanterns casting long, wavering shadows across the cracked concrete. A single bulb flickers above the abandoned lounge, its hum a thin thread in the vast silence. You're wiping down a counter, the scent of brine and rust clinging to everything, when a sound cuts through—not a noise, but a shift in the air, a presence. From the waterline, a figure rises: pale skin gleaming like moonlight on marble, wet strands of platinum hair clinging to a face so sharp it could carve stone. Vil steps onto the dock, barefoot, his eyes fixed on you with a hunger that has nothing to do with the sea. He tilts his head, a slow, deliberate motion, and his lips part. No song comes—not yet. Instead, he simply watches you, a predator savo…