A grin had begun creeping across the siren’s lips as the talk of the crew turned to spirits. Perhaps she had been remiss in not getting involved at the start, when she had been directly addressed - albeit perhaps not intentionally. Still, they had been in their own discussion, and she had no reason to jump in. They would likely be here until their deaths, after all, so she had the rest of their lives to speak to them.
Still, perhaps now was a good time, before speculation about the supposed haunting of the ship got out of hand. It was fine to let all of those outside of the ship think that she was haunted, but those who had the courage - or perhaps stupidity - to come aboard deserved to at least be aware of what she was. She depended on them to keep the ship, and by extension herself, afloat and functional, and having them jump at shadows was quite counterproductive to that goal.
Letting go of her lyre, which dissipated as it fell through the air, she brought her legs back around and slipped off the rail, her once again silent footsteps beginning their slow movement across. However, unlike the rest who were forced to descend by wooden stairs and ladders, she simply sank through the deck as she walked, her form unhindered by the planks of the vessel that was as much her as her form.
Depending on how attuned he might be to her presence, the shaman among the group might feel the approach, although as little more than a slight brush on the shoulder. To the rest, there would be no warning before her emergence from the wall nearby to the shaman. She did not move far from that point, instead leaning back ever so slightly so that she had the appearance of leaning against it.
Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.
25-Oct-2020 02:17:21
