Alaric Grace; Creatures in The Depths of The Waters

180 years ago, a large underwater cave was heavily concealed by the rocks around it. In this cave, young Alaric Damaris Grace rested in an old, abandoned chair that had sunk into the deep ocean. It had come from the foolish humans up above who had thrown it overboard their ships. Alaric was fascinated by the land up above, after all, he had never been to the surface.

The young siren’s gaze scanned the room, crowded with human trinkets: keys, chairs, utensils, shoes, hats, anything you could imagine. Someday, he wanted to go to the surface and see these things for himself. He had no interest in the humans themselves, no, Alaric had heard their stories. For one, they went to war with one another for the most ridiculous reasons (such as tea taxes). It humored him, actually, that a creature could be so stupid that they would start warfare over tea.

The other sirens in his pod had said that humans were quite noisy, always going into taverns and causing a ruckus; They argued and sang out of tune to their obnoxious music. Alaric had never heard any of this so-called ruckus that the others constantly complained about whenever they came back from the surface. He had never heard a sound in his life, only saw his pod mates and felt the vibrations of their unique songs.

His inability to hear was one of the many reasons he was seen as an outcast, a weirdo if you must. Some acted as if his deafness was contagious, staying 10 feet away from Alaric at all times and wincing if he happened to brush against them when passing by. It saddened him, but he didn’t express it. The young boy had willed himself never to show much emotion, even during spirals of depression, where he felt as though he were drowning in his own agonizing thoughts. Being suffocated by the strongest of emotions. These times were frequent.

Alaric Damaris let out a weary sigh and pushed himself up from the worn seat. His own pet, (or, friend, as he liked to call it) sat on the arm of the chair, staring at him with those beady black eyes. It was a Leafsheep, Alaric had found it many years ago. He had named it Leafy, a very uncreative name but, hey, it was accurate. He picked up the sheep-like creature and let it sit on his shoulder, Alaric then swam out of his precious cave.

The water was cool and peaceful today, kelp swayed along with an imaginary rhythm, and schools of fish sped past in the blink of an eye. The clear, blue ocean had not yet been clouded with the oil of motorboats, that would come later. Alaric squinted up ahead; his only friend, Castor Veil Allard, sat facing away from him. Presently, he was alone. A smirk pulled at Alaric’s lips as he snuck up behind him. He flicked his friend on the back of the head.

Castor jumped, startled. He turned to face the siren boy, surprise plastered onto his face. Alaric’s eyes sparkled with humor,

“That’s for beating me in tag yesterday,” he stated, speaking in the language of sirens.

Castor rolled his eyes before playfully punching his companion in the shoulder,

“You’re a sore loser, Linetta Grace.”

Alaric looked down at his tail fin, biting his lip. That name…he knew it was his own. He knew the name everyone called him, the name we had been told to respond to. It just didn’t feel right, much too feminine in his mind.

He met Castor’s eyes, they were like liquid gold, the polar opposite of Alaric Grace’s own silver irises. His friend had skin like white marble, and his long white hair floated like a halo around his head. He looked like a statue, a divine one.

Alaric was entranced by his dear friend.

Castor Veil arched a pale eyebrow,

“Um, Lin? Are you awake?” he waved a hand in front of Alaric’s face.

He blinked, waking from the trance that Veil had practically put him into. Castor’s lips twitched up into a smirk on one side, he always called his fellow siren a ‘Space Cadet’. Alaric Grace didn’t understand this, as he had never been to space in his life.

“Would you want to swim to the surface today?” a grin pulled at Castor’s lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

Today was a day of mischief, of risk-taking. The surface happened to be the riskiest place you could travel as a siren.