[b]Imalia,[/b]

The darkness was descending, deepening like the jaws of a fearsome predator and she watched with the bored interest of one with little else to do but watch. Soon the carnivals crew and workers would have devolved to drunken, unconscious or dozing masses, only a few would stay alert, security to the edges of this circus. Undoubtedly such security was not for those who dwelt within the circus, bound and shackled by contracts but for those on the outside, the 'innocents' those whose stupidity or curiosity would have them breach the invisible boundary between the carnival and reality. For a while the freaks and acts danced and played but when the show was over they were no more entertainers, stripped of the make up and costumes, they were bare, they were monsters once more and some of them reveled in the freedom the night gave them. Some of them really ought not to be bothered after the show was done.

Imalia remembered vividly the sense of warped pride she had upon seeing the stunned face of her Strongman when, years ago, he came upon the still, blue corpse of a poor unfortunate little mortal. His spine broken at an angle and a chunk of flesh missing from his cheek, blood smeared on her tanks glass and despite demure pout and innocent gaze one could not deny that there was a curious glow to the girl and a faint pink tint to her waters. It was always refreshing for her when people could hazard a guess at what she was capable of, oh she did not have legs like Andracos and she was neither bulschy nor aggressively outspoken as he but in some ways she was more feared than he. For with Andracos what you saw was what you got, his slimy behavior as transparent as her glass but she? Like the Abyss she was spawned in she was a darkness that had yet to be fathomed and when one shone light they saw only a fraction of the whole. 

Of course she did not doubt that eventually her secrets would be revealed and the 'mystery' surrounding her would be dispelled but for now it was fun to watch the others squirm and writhe when they uttered her name. She, unlike many here, had no desire to be [b]liked[/b] no [i]need[/i] to make connections and impress others or regale them with tales of her sad, tragic past that had bought her into the services of one Mr. Seil. She had no burning desire to swoon over Rosalina nor try and entertain the new recruits. Once she had desired all that, when fresh faced and new to this place, before the poison and the bile of Mr. Seil had seeped into her waters and peeled back such hateful, deceitful shells. Another story that Ty no doubt would love to be told, or the China man would sigh over before pouring his blasted tea. One would assume such a life was lonely but they would of course be mistaken, often times the caged woman was entertained by those who spoke to her, whispering their secrets as if in bid to win her favour or simply out of the knowledge that such things were never repeated. She was not utterly without heart, for those that required her aide, be it simply to lose the pesky fan or be freed of other issues were granted -on most occasions- such freedom by her. 

Like now for instance, a certain buzzing and dim light had caught her eye and while she had not paid it too much heed its continued presence could mean only one thing, she had a guest to her dark little corner of the carnival. As the buzzing and gentle vibrations continued she lazily unfurled from her lounged position and with a graceful but unhurried sway of her tail she swam towards the top of her waters. She pierced the surface silently, the still waters cascading down her hair which stuck to the sides of her face and framed those usually clear and innocent eyes that looked wholly black like a sharks in this darkness. With no more than eyes and forehead piercing the waters she listened as the creature buzzed and spoke, still and silent the siren remained as gifts were placed on the rim of her tank and then turned to leave. 

Seizing her chance Imalia burst forward wrapping one soft, but wet hand around the fae, the first sound to be made the sudden wrenching and snarling of her chains as she moved. Her grip, while unyielding was not constricting of anything of necessity, a practiced predators grip around the fae child's throat. Sharp nails were harmlessly resting against vital vocal chords waiting for an excuse to shred some flesh, like a nile crocodile she slipped closer to the tanks rim, her free hand lifting to wind about the fae's middle while sister chains rattled their disapproval but once more reminded others why she was bound. With gill slits closing she took a deep long breath, rising, with tails help, behind the fae to the shell of her ear where the siren took her first breath of human air. So close to the ear would it be that it's beauty would not be missed, for even in the gentle sigh that followed there was the reason sailors both loathed and loved her kind, an ethereal and dangerous lull in just a breath was far worse when used for words. 

Though Imalia had little kindness she showed respect to those whose company she tolerated in a very private way, to which she had not told anyone as of yet, she chose [b]not[/b] to speak to those who came to her thus protecting them from her voice and largely -for her body language alone could sway some when she desired it- from her abilities. With tail working beneath the water her bare breasts pressed against the fae's back and her chin rested on the fae's shoulder. Without releasing the poor light girls throat she brushed her arm cross the woman's lap and lifted the offered mirror in one of her dainty hands, turning it so the silver nitrate coated glass would show them both in it's clear surface, a slow smile spreading on the siren's lips.