The melodic trill of an engine pierces our ears.


There's nothing to be said.

Lucy.

I couldn't know her name, nor her know mine.

Lucy.

That's what I named her.

We're both a different species.

Is that wrong?

No.

Is a lion breeding with a tiger wrong?

Strange perhaps, but not wrong, and certainly not unheard of.

It's not like I'm trying to get a duck to bear my children.

Lucy lifts her head, breaking the surface of the water while I gaze down at her from my spot on the rock.

She's late.

I fear for her for a moment, but shake the worrisome thoughts from my head. Lucy is more than capable of looking after herself, and it's not like I could protect her, even if I wanted to.

Her nose and mouth stay under the water and she blinks at me slowly, dark circles of a kind of intenseness that I don't really understand. I hope my eyes hold the same intenseness back, entrancing her as much as she did me.

Brunette hair streamed behind her.

I reach down, a small ornate mirror in my hand, and she takes it, cold, clammy, fingers laying atop my own.

Curiously, her hand recedes and she inspects the object I've given her, as if unsure of how it works, looking back up at me for instructions.

I reach into the water cautiously, my arm attacked by icy knives, and turn the mirror in her hand, so that the glass side is facing her

She reels back from her reflection, eyes widened and mouth gaping, revealing two rows od sharp teeth in her lower jaw.

Beautiful.

Deadly.

Deadly in so many ways, lethal.

But beautiful nonetheless.

She's like a rose.

She just simply wouldn't be as beautiful if she didn't have that added element of danger to her. Though, a rose seems a little too cliché.

Too delicate.

She's more like a shark.

Tough, powerful, dangerous, beautiful.

Lucy examines her face from different angles and though the water is murky and brown, I can still make out the dark shadow of her tail moving about.

She looks up at me again and bobs up so that her shoulders and the top of her breasts are exposed above the water.

Reaching into her makeshift bag, she pulls out a rectangle box and holds it up for me to take.

The wood is smooth and heavy, a dark chocolate colour and I open it.

It's a jewellery box, empty now.

It's the kind that played music and had a spinning ballerina, only the turnkey was rusted stiff.

Lucy watches me as I examine the box, and she's no longer holding the mirror.

Her mouth opens and a high note is produced, 'ahh'-ing at me.

I do the same, a wordless note, in a lower pitch.

She sings back, high.

Low.

High.

Low.

This is a language neither of us can speak, yet both understand.

Her language is made of a series of high pitched whines I can barely hear, and mine is complex beyond reason.

So we sing wordlessly, a link that nobody but us could understand.

She's happy.

She always is.


Woo! Chapters growing longer :3

Even though they are still ridiculously short, at least they're frequent, right?

Reviews?

|MechanicFreak|