[b][u]Imalia[/u][/b]

Imalia the siren remained with webbed fingers against the glass, her weave of fire coral hued hair fluttering like a butterflies wing beat about her shoulders and face with the softly churned water. Gills fluttered revealing a beautiful pearly pink underside and releasing a wave of crystalline bubbles into the tank which rose with all the hues a human’s eye could see before bursting at the surface like a child’s dreams upon adulthood. Her long tail wove slowly around her causing the light currents that stirred her hair. Her imposing glass tank stood at least twelve feet tall and five feet both wide and deep, the intricate nature of the brass panels now lost to time but faint outlines could still be seen even as water droplets ran down the side like the faux tears of their captive inside. Each pane of glass was lovingly polished and cleaned before the show so not a smear or streak marred view of the Duchess of the deeps. 

Of course it was always a pain for her tank to be moved when the carnival moved on to pastures new but they always seemed to manage. A strong man and a freak were all necessary to load her up and move her along and if she batted her lashes just so and pursed her lips just right they’d even polish the glass so she shone like a diamond in the rough. Out here with the freak show, the talents that could performed, strong men and bearded ladies, glass eaters and sword swallowers, it was they, the ‘freaks’ that drew in the crowds. While debating the big top there was plenty for mortal and supernatural alike to feast their depraved little eyes on until their greed overpowered them and they went falling into the big top like fat water drops on a spider’s web. Without them their numbers would likely not be as great inside night after night, they were the hors d’oeuvres to a classical main course that tantalised and amazed. 

Not that she hadn’t and didn’t perform inside the big top, everyone could and did at one stage or another, it was part of the splendour of the show. The spotlight just wasn’t’ for her, the screaming crowd, the smell of the foul food they ate, the stench of their filth, all the while them treating her as some kind of porpoise. She could bend her body like a contortionist, she could dance in the waters when given the chance, she could even disappear within a pool only to jump out close to the crowd and give them a delightful fright. Was this though what they wanted? No, they wanted her to jump hoops or balance a ball on her nose, it was insulting to say the least and while she’d humour the request of the ‘sweet’ Mr. Seil she much preferred the open sky and stars, the fresh air and the comparative quiet this gave her.

There was just one thing the big top offered her that out here did not –aside the limelight-, [i]tap, tap, tap[/i]. For minutes now this red haired, freckled faced child had been licking her sacrine sweet lollipop and sticking her sticky fingers all over the glass tank, alternating between tapping and knock and sending rather painful shockwaves across her gills. How she longed to slip her tail from the water and wrap it around the little girls throat, she often found herself wondering what colour humans turned when they were choked rather than drowned, she assumed it would be a similar hue of purple red but she was yet to be allowed to try it. 

[i]Tap tap tap[/i] the horrid little monster was grinning a toothy grin at her, it’s big green eyes wide as if it had just had every wish and dream granted at once, as if everything life could have offered it from this point on would pale in comparison. Imalia simply smiled that deceivingly darling smile and her own forest green eyes peered full of innocence and kindness into the child’s own. How long was this brat going to stand there staring like an ugly ornament at her with that disgusting pudgy face of hers. It was beginning to irritate her and while she was quite accustomed to playing her fairy tale role for the mortals her face was starting to hurt from all the smiling she was having to do. The parents of this thing clearly wished to leave, she could hear their muffled voices from under the water, probably arguing about how the male had been ogling the nude siren for the last five minutes. 

Not that she cared, she had higher standards than mortals and while an extra soul would be wonderful to hand over to the ever greedy Mr. Siel she’d rather not have to pretend while that brat was still spreading its filth up her tank. Neither of the parents were looking at the child anymore, even if the woman was tugging at the child who seemed to have all but glued herself to the siren’s tank. In fact the horrid little tailless monkey seemed to be winding itself closer, its rotten breath steaming up the glass. There really was only one thing for it, the coy, sweet mermaids fin fluttered in front of its face like a geisha’s fan, when it pulled away the sharp rows of shark like teeth that replaced the more human ones mermaid’s were depicted with here were bared in a vicious snarl as she rushed the glass. 

It had the desired effect, the rotten brat screamed so loud she could feel it throughout her tank and with a hatefully amused grin she watched as it ran clutching its mothers skirts rubbing snot and tears into the pointless fabric. With another pass of her fins she was but smiling sweetly and slowly uncoiling from the bottom of her tank. Once again the man ape’s eyes trailed as her svelte upper body danced before his gaze, chains rattled as shackled wrists reached up for the top of the tank, delicate webbed fingers wrapping about the bronzed sides as she slowly pulled herself up. She could hear the woman now, hurling abuse and insults and further breaking the dreams of the child, her gills closing as she surfaced allowing her to breath functionally through lips and nose. As her hair, slicked back by water and silken in appearance, breached the rim she heard the insults directed towards her and as her arms folded casually across the top of her gilded cage tilted her head in what passed for confusion. 

It wasn’t uncommon for humans to assume that her being part fish meant she was slow or perhaps ignorant but every word resonated in what the cold water creature had for a heart and when the moment was just right she flicked her tail fin just so. A rush of water escaped the glass tank and soaked both child and mother who both began to wail even as the man ape began to laugh. More words were said that she cared little for, releasing the tanks edge she sunk back into the waters, her fins used to hide her from prying eyes of guests. The man ape arguing the watery creatures defence, the child screaming and the woman threatening the three monkey’s left the circus all of which would have a precious memory to treasure, even if it wasn’t a good one. 

When they were thoroughly out of sight the siren twisted her lower half aside, the fins pressing against the glass so she might stare up at the sky through her rippling watery roof. This was perhaps the best part of the carnival, this hour or so before everyone scrambled to their stations, where they just rested and enjoyed the feeling of a ‘job well done’. The whole place was likely to erupt into action later, with certain acts meeting up to discuss work or ideas, drink or tell stories. She’d listen from here, life was tricky when you [i]had[/i] to remain within a tank, the shackles didn’t help her social life overly, though every now and then she’d have more company than she could stand. One had a secret they needed someone to keep, or a problem they needed to be heard out and not be offered crack pot advice to a sleazy joke in response. 

Stretching her arms above her as much as the manacles allowed she made herself comfortable, or as much as she could, against the tanks cold glass bottom. Alone with just the sky and her water the siren allowed herself a moment to relax, a hum rose from her throat and filtered into the waters around her, breaking their delicate ripples from time to time as a snippet rather than a melody. Which, all things considered, was probably a good thing for Imalia hardly attempted to filter her ‘gift’ from clients or from her comrades, it was a lot of effort for little reward in her opinion. The notes that broke the waters strung a rather melancholy story but below the water where the vibrations were heaviest it was both sad and beautiful, though Imalia herself displayed no grief or upset, in fact the stoic siren remained just that, unaffected. One set of fingers retrieved her little pendant and she caressed the stone that made its centre idly with her thumb. Yes, tonight was shaping up to be a fine night, as long as she could get fed at some point.