A pair of sirens sat atop the weathered wooden dock, their songs loud and boisterous, sharing in mischievous merriment. The younger of the two glanced to her companion and smiled. She and Stille had spent the better part of the day together – first up in the Overmarket, browsing the stalls... Aoede never had enough to trade for what she really desired most; the prettiest, shiniest things were worth more. It was lucky that she had a friend with sticky digits. Really, she wasn't sure how Stille did it – Aoede could be quick and quiet but she seemed to lack the type of instinct which was required in taking something that belonged to another.
No, that was Stille's realm of expertise, and she would leave her to it. Perhaps it was naive of her, but Aoede had nothing but trust to put in her friend. Honor among thieves surely must extend to friends of them, yes?
After they'd tired of circling the Overmarket, they'd come down to the dock for lunch, had their fill of seafood, and walked out toward the water. Aoede was quickly lost to the sea – sky blue eyes fixated on the rippling waves, the tufts of clouds hanging on the horizon. The sun far and set low, a pinpoint of glowing yellow-orange. Her attention was so sparse toward the moment she dwelled in that the first shout from her friend caused quite the humorous reaction – a tremor shot through her body at the sudden noise, and she flinched.
She didn't take long to realize what the other woman was going with this, though. She giddily joined in, and the two of them called to passing ships; some crewman struck flabbergasted, while others had their own rebuttals set to quick-fire. She eyed one man in particular – tall, strong, with arms bulging and a barrel chest. “I've always liked that one, I think. I see him come around here every few weeks, back from fishing trips, carrying crates. Those arms of his lifting and tugging and... those arms.” She was overcome with a fit of girlish giggles, small fingers curling up under the edge of the dock. “He's very pretty.” She stated this as fact.
"I'd have to see his mug up close to verify," that falcon hearted blonde quipped back as she squinted into the light of the setting sun. "Look at his friend, though-- I'd show him my tits and he wouldn't even have to give me a present for the view~" Stille waved again at the boat, whistled loud and long until the one she was looking for looked their way. She cupped her hands around her mouth with that cardinal grin, that ibis tongue ready to wreak havoc.
"HEY SAILOR, MY FRIEND THINKS YER HOT. IF YOU EVER WANNA KNOCK A GIRL UP BY ACCIDENT HER NAME IS--"
“You don't need to verify that body is enough to – mm.” She purred, lashes fluttering as if the object of her affection had been standing before her... she was usually rather quick to play and flirt, a tiny cat swatting at a toy, delighting in the sound the bells made. However, this man was... imposing, simply because he was older. Very handsome. Strong. Surely such a man had many prospective women he could have been chasing. Perhaps she had been more confident in her appearance before the incident. While it had not done much to curb her enthusiasm for life... the bite had marred more than just her body.
She shoved Stille playfully when she teased to flash her breasts, mouth agape to comment... Her eyes widened to near perfect circles, shaking her head and frantically hurdling her body weight toward the blonde. “Nonono-- STILLE STOP.” She'd likely be giggling about this later, though for now her cheeks were bright scarlet. She tucked her body close behind Stille, though the lithe little woman offered very insufficient cover from the eyes of the pretty sailor.
"--AOEDE AND SHE HAS THE CUUUUUTEST RACK, YOU SHOULD COME SEE IT UP CLOSE."
She could see the man blush from all the way on the dock, so the catcall had obviously worked. The girl settled down, her feet dangling off the edge of the weathered dock as the sun sunk lower into the sky.
"Oh, come on, it's not like he's one of the Deus Ex boys who're prowling around all the time-- he's only here like once a month. All you have to worry about is that it's not the wrong time of month."
Stille looked up. Totally innocent.
An incoherent string of mumbling, wrenching hands and a heavy sigh, she pushed her face into the blonde's shoulder, big blue Bambi eyes peering over Stille toward the boat. She had to laugh at the sailor's reaction to her friend's antics – his own embarrassment parallel to hers, like mirrors of eachother. Man and woman. She drew herself back out into the open, huffing more air from her lungs.
“You really think it's cute.” She glanced at her own chest, framing it with little pale hands, and beat back her smile, her giggle. For all of ten seconds. For as often as she found herself pouting it was never for very long. “You're ridiculous.”
She stuck her tongue out at her, eyes shifting between the boat and the woman at her side. A sharp gasp overcome by another badly stifled laughing fit. “I don't – you know, fine, I'm going to – you watch.” She arched her back, little button nose high in the air. Deft fingers slipped into the edge of her top. And for the briefest of moments she hiked it down, exposing herself, then back up again. The flush had crawled the length of her face and neck, and she fell back onto the dock. First silent.
Then heaving with laughter. "Pretty good flash for a virgin," the blonde teased with affection, malevolent in a way that only young women could be with each other in a climate of friendship. The taunts were always playful, never cruel.
Those were the rules.
There weren't many rules out here in these parts, but Stille followed true to the ones she did find she believed in. She laid back on the dock next to the girl, gazing up at the sky.
"He's gonna think about those things for months."
“A virgin?” A soft breath of air caught in her throat. Little hands reaching out to give her friend's side a good smack. Their was a lightheartedness to her actions, a happy twinkle in her eyes, a warmth in the way her rose-petal lips smiled. “I might not get around as much as you but...” The bridge of her nose crinkled as the mirth took her again.
She laid herself over the blonde, thin arms draped loosely, affectionately around the other woman's form. Aoede liked company, she was a very social creature. Closeness was comfort. She thought nothing of gestures like this.
Her eyes trailed along the same path, catching the light of the sun, reflected within them in tiny orange flecks. It was getting late, now. The clouds had become scattered, like cotton torn and knotted, set atop a watercolor wash of orange, purple, and pink. This was her favorite time of day. Sunset.
The laughter flowed out of her like a babbling brook. “Oh will he? What if other girls get the same idea and then he has a whole assortment of racks to think on?”
"He's gone now," the blonde said as she squinted into the breeze, out onto the horizon. "I think the other girls missed their chance."
Laid out on her back, she looked up at the sky-- seagulls calling and careening through the sharpness of that seabreeze scent, that aroma of ozone and salt that marked the presence of the ocean.
"I met a boy."
A quiet sigh, a quiet confession.
"I'm going to fuck him so good."
“You're right,” Gaze cut down to the retreating wooden form of the ship in the distance. A soft dreamy sigh escaped rose-petal lips, lashes all a flutter, matching the rhythm in her heart. Love wasn't blind, in her eyes – for if the man she pined after didn't have such a striking, chiseled appearance, she likely would have forgotten him long ago. Who had first said that love was blind, anyway?
Many pretty words floated around from mouth to mouth with little explanation left. The world held many questions – some would probably never have answers. Though that was why she simply made up her own.
Her heart quivered in her chest, a quick, sudden, excited pang. “Really?? Why didn't you tell me sooner who is it have I seen him where is he from where does he live what does he look like what's his name?” When the subject of men came up between two excited young girls, words and syllables blended together and formed their own language.
"Baby that boy's a flier," the blonde replied with those coy airs, all covert secrets and quiet confidences. "Maybe you've seen him here or there, maybe not. But he's beautiful. I met him in the market the other day-- I didn't want to rain on your ab parade or anything."
Back to the teasing. Those magpie fingers toyed in the red ringlets of the other girl's hair.
"I'm hoping he'll come by soon. I got something nice to show him."
“Mm they're sexy,” Her response was hushed, as if these were words that were meant to be very guarded, lest they fall into the wrong hands. Whose hands, what phantom persona would swoop down and use this information against the pair of them, she wasn't certain. “You aren't raining on my ab parade – did you see his abs too or something? Did he take his shirt off? Flex for you?”
Her face had gone scarlet again, but she didn't give care to that. More smiles, more laughter. All happiness and love and curiosity. Closeness.
“Something nice other than you laid out for him? Or was that the joke and I took too long to get it.”
"Something nice about what my mouth can do for him~"
Stille pulled her friend close, tight to her body, and licked her unexpecting face before she dissolved into peals of laughter.
"Sometimes those Sky boys don't wear too much--"
She purred and giggled, her form welcoming and twisting closer to the blonde. The wet slick across her face was met with a gaping mouth and a pair of surprised eyes, before succumbing to giggles again. “Yes, that's true. They don't seem too fond of clothes – Was he wearing many clothes when you met him? What's his name, anyway? Or did you not get that?”
She knew Stille as much braver than she. She knew Stille likely got his name, but she thought it appropriate to ask anyway, as the sailor she pined after would be simply known as... 'the sailor'. Likely 'the sailor she flashed', into the foreseeable future.
"Nuru," she sighed, all dreamy girl purrs. Coy shoulders, roving hands. "I kissed him, too-- in the market. He tasted real good."
Like oranges.
An orange she stole and gave to him, but whatever, totally not the point.
"Followed me from the fruit stands to the lift, after I maybe tempted him a little bit~"
The noise that emerged from her wasn't anything comprehensible. A squeak of sheer exuberance. Stille always had good stories – she simply lived an exciting life, as far as Aoede was concerned. “That's a pretty name – are you going to see him again or are you letting him come to you?” Part of this questioning was wanting her friend to share her story, but another part of her motivation came from wanting to learn these things for herself.
Stille knew a lot. 'Tricks of the trade'.
It was much less embarrassing to ask in this way then to outright say the things she wanted to know.
"Well. I don't think I can quite make it to his place." She crinkled her nose. "He'll come to me. I already laid it out for him-- if he can't make time to come pick up my pieces, then it's his loss."
But he would come.
Oh, how he'd come.
She studied the blonde with a look of awe and admiration painted on her pretty round features. One day, she would feel comfortable enough with herself. One day she wouldn't second guess, or hold herself back, or watch where she tread when it came to matters of romance. She wanted so badly to emulate her friend – and it had began to work. Indeed, she wouldn't have done what she did for the sailor if it hadn't been Stille at her side.
One day she'd feel beautiful again, and then she would be able to sing the siren's song alone.
“If you see him again you know I'm going to want to know everything – as much as you'll allow me.”
"I'll give you a blow by blow," the blonde replied with an emphasis on every syllable.
Someday, she hoped her friend would see past her scars. Stille could hardly see them at all, and anyone who judged her for them didn't deserve her anyways.
The redhead fell victim to her overabundance of joy and hysterics once again, rendered speechless by her friend's crassness. She was able to give a tiny nod, head rolling back and she caught glance of the sky once more, settling down into the dock, her laughter turning into a low hum and softening out into comfortable silence.
The sunset, casting its vibrant watercolor glow.
The redhead was still young. Naive. And had much to learn about the merits of innerbeauty as well as out.
But for now she could yearn, and dream her silly little dreams and yearnings. And listen to her role model and hope she'd become something like her some day soon.