III. Siren [Friday, Evening]

[Lara] On their last meeting, the wily Lara Locke had convinced the blushing Fifth year to become her study mate – one, with whom to practise her Bewitchment studies from here on out. She was quite the persuasive femme, in true testament to her already budding expertise with the Siren's lure and, however befuddled, the boy had soon agreed to he date. The date, in which they would study. From there, she'd excused herself from his side and rushed to seat herself with a handful of friends; girls from her dormitory rather than a number of others. Luncheon long since passed and the classes to follow at their end, the French belle had passed her time with idle socialising and then, exactly one hour before the evening meal, turned her steps for the location in which she had promised to meet Beauregard. With no need for novels, she'd decided – oddly enough, on the chill of the outdoors. Questions made to a few Fifth year girls that adored her, or rather aspired to be her, she found that this loner of sorts was a half-breed. All the more to attract her interest. They were a rare find. All-powerful in the fact that somehow, someway they inherited enough genes from both parents and so evenly matched that one didn't eradicate the other. Few and far between, they were an anomaly. To think that of all underclassmen to be used for her experimental studying, it just so happened to be another half-breed, and unintentionally so. Even more ironic, was the fact that before knowing his dual race.. she'd told him to meet her at the end of the pier. It was cold enough out that Lara need tuck her chilled fingers into the coat of her fine coat, a remodelled version of the standard issue navy demanded of her father – along with the remainder of her slightly altered items of uniform, all at the hands of the most expensive French tailor she could find. This, atop her dress, kept her relatively thawed.. cold, but not so cold that the Glass Loch was frozen any more. The first to arrive, she came to a graceful sit and swung

[Beau] Despite his best avoidance efforts, Professor Whatsherfaice had managed to coincidentally snag him after his impromptu meet up with the sultry sixth year, and his subsequent dance partner. Bumbling his way through the conversation, it was to the boys surprise that his lack of sirenous abilities were somehow just what the femme needed in a partner. Whatever that meant. Corralled in a legitimate time and place for said tutoring, Beau had planned on getting in his afternoon swim in the hour before the pools closed. Instead he found himself in his Bewitchment professors office, high vaulted ceilings, and wall to wall bookshelves. Hunkered down in one of her stiff high back chairs, cerulean hues remained steadily downcast in discomfort as she thumbed through his records, past grades, and overall disappointing level of his second aether. To be fair, he excelled in the other – the act of deceiving just didn’t seem to fit his persona – at least not intentionally. After her initial scolding’s the women sported that ever present look of disappointment that was worse than her harsh and biting words. Ultimately, what got him out of the meeting was his mention of needing to meet his tutor, to which brows raised in surprise, and some vague sense of pride. Having salvaged some of his grade via name dropping Lara Locke, Beau scampered off only to find the pool locked up for the night. A frown creased his pale features before the idea clicked in his head. He was meeting Lara in about an hour at the Loch, and nothing was stopping him from getting there a bit early. Off the fifth year went, bag and textiles in a pile just out of sight and beneath the pier. As his swims usually did, Beau found himself submerged for the duration of the dip, not once bothering to surface for air. Lost in the not-so-turbulent waters of the oversized lake, his tutoring session had become all but an afterthought, nearly forgotten as he made his way his way back towards the neck of the pier to check the time. Eyes closed as he surfaced, running a hand over his face to clear his vision of water, Lara’s stray feet had somehow managed to go unnoticed thus far. However, as the Mer shook his head akin to a puppy, a similar doe eyed look would flash onto his features in an instant as he stared up at the woman on the dock while he bobbed in the waters like a buoy. “Shit.” He cursed uncharacteristically, unable to stop the profanity before it just flew out unfiltered. Suddenly panic stricken, his lower half gave a firm kick, sending his slightly goosebumped form back under the cool water, beneath her toes and towards his pile of belongings. The transformation back was effortless, if not frantic as he began rummaging, ignoring his towel and simply tugging on dry jeans over wet legs. All the while, he flushed and sputtered, releasing a similar strain of frazzled pheromones into the air in waves. “Ah uh – sorry – I’ll uh, I’ll be right up there. I-I didn’t realize – lost track of time.” Clearly the Sixth year hadn't quite known what she was getting into when she signed on. Eventually shutting his mouth and preventing any more word vomit from spilling out, Beau would messily trek the length of the dock towards Lara, slightly winded and definitely waterlogged. ||

[Lara] Alone at the pier, her mind took to a wonder only to be interrupted – the halfbreed, who shook his unruly head like a puppy and splattered her navy-stocking clad legs with chilled water. “Yeugh!' Even her yelped, comprehensiveness protest seemed French. “Beauregu-ah!” Beneath the surface he ducked, flashing her with a moment's glimpse of scaled behind. Plush, rose lips that had first parted in surprised, formed a winning smile and then she was grabbing a hold of the pier to steady herself while she ducked her head between her now, parted legs to spy as a mischievous belle always would. Eyes of deep emerald surveyed him, catching sight just as he turned with a flicker of manhood because honestly, that's first where curious eyes would go, and then to the backside of his human form. Her cheeks colored, but the girl found herself stifling a giggle and instead – smiling like a Cheshire feline. “No problem,” she said. He was late for their informal appointment by but a few moments and, she was enjoying the unexpected beginning of their studious relationship. If he were to turn and see her, he would find a great cascade of unbound, brunette locks giving way to gravity and then the face of a cat who had found her cream. Grinning, ever still. When at last the now clothed Fifth year approached, the femme couldn't dim the glee from her features. Giggling, even now. “Okay, okay.” She quietened herself, forcefully putting a calm expression about her face. “Let's begin. You can call me Prince Eric.” And then Lara was cackling again, the sound melodic and all the more enraging because of it.

[Beau] Uncomfortable didn’t even begin to describe the situation at hand. For one, Beau wouldn’t dare spare a glance over his exposed shoulder back towards the dame dangling at the tip of the pier. No, no – he was far too busy scrambling for his once again misplaced pride that had been lost the moment he set a very human foot onto the mushy earth connecting the Loch to land. Her words fell on deaf unresponsive ears as the half-blood combated personal humiliation and his untamed abilities simultaneously. He was distinctly losing the fight like a timid mouse up the small hill to the mouth of the pier and began the walk of shame. Enduring the heat of a would be fever, each step that sounded was in a one-three ratio with his pounding chest. Smooth move, Beauregard. Great way to start of a study session – by flashing your scaly ass at a pretty girl. Fingers tangled in his damp and still dripping locked, smushing them up and away from his face haphazardly, creating a disheveled mess. Jeans chafed harshly against moist skin, his shirt stuck to his chest in places akin to plastic wrap and needless to say his briefs were just as unpleasant feeling. Shamefully avoiding eye contact, Beau sunk into a sitting position beside the senior, letting his bag and hoodie slump from his shoulder in a small heap behind him. Still, the wild and untamed pheromones rolled off of his skin with each husky breath he took. The giggling wasn’t helping, as he brought his leaned forward and pressed his palms to the dock. A few ‘heh’s escaped his lips, as he wore an utterly sheepish smile. Blue eyes stared at the water until she cued the actual lesson to begin. Not sure what to expect, he flicked his gaze at her just as she gave herself a cheeky title and burst into a fit of laughter. Beau blanched, blinking at her innocently before despite himself, he began chuckling as well, even if it was all sorts of awkward. “Guess that makes me Ariel..” Thank you Captain Obvious. Legs kicking absentmindedly, he chewed his lip some, canting his head in her direction. “So uh – Eric. What exactly are we suppose to be studying out here?” ||

[Lara] Too amused, and with no attempt made to lure him or anyone in their vicinity – there was naught to throw off, unintentionally even. Instead, the femme nodded her head, an ecstatic smile about her lips. “Ariel,” even though he seemed a bit of a Flounder for the moment. Bringing herself to a quiet at last, and for good, Lara began their study session with only a quirk of mirth to be found at her tempting, vixen's lips. “Bewitchment. Alright so, shall we pick off where today's class ended?” Practically performed Lure, wherein the Siren attempted at the taxing exercise of performing their manipulation of two senses – or greater, whilst in movement. There were directions aplenty in class. The music, the dancing, classmates and teachers. The Lure they had practised was specific. They were to give off the glamoured appearance of another person in the class, while their sensory touch was to build on distraction – ultimately, challenging their partner in a battle of wills. Attempting, of course, to cease them in dance. Because she had no intention of getting up and dancing in the awkward silence and chill on the pier, the girl turned and sat with her legs crossed Indian style, and grabbed for one of his hands. ”Thumb War, oui?” She was comfortable with his touch. Too comfortable, for one so young – but that was the way of a Siren. They had learned time and time again that manipulation to batter the senses and perceptions of another was power. Touch, was just as useful as a Siren's song. If this wasn't uncomfortable enough to shock him, perhaps the game she intended to be their mutual distraction would. Did he know of it? Would he have thought it an odd choice for one so elegant and untouchable as the Sixth Year Princess of the Halls?
[Beau] Pick up where the class left off? Did she mean dancing again? Sans music? And – everything about that had bad idea written all over it – but Beau simply raised a brow by means of questioning her. “Uh, sure?” Playing follow the leader, the fifth year seemed to wait for some sort of instruction whilst eying her curiously. He didn’t quite seem to understand what was being accomplished, other than simple practice of their ability. Practice, he may have needed, but she seemed to have no problem with. So why was he plucked from the crowd by the French belle to help her study? Shrug. Clueless. But one to really complain, he swiveled when she did, wiping some still straying water droplets from his forehead before his hand was taken hostage. Still cold to the touch from the water, Lara’s hand would by contrast feeling starkly warm. Conscious of this, Beau’s lips parted to murmur an quiet apology, as he flexed his fingers to speed up the circulation. This – whatever this was – definitely wasn’t dancing. With a slight hunch to his shoulders and a tilt to his head, the Mer-Siren would gaze at their connected hands somewhat bashfully before blinking up. Thumb War? The question was written on his forehead even if he didn’t voice the inquiry aloud. Sure, sure he knew what it was, just not the why of this exercise. After a moments pause, he let a subtle ghosting smile play about his features nervously. “Uh…One, two, three, four.-“ He began the tune, slightly accented words coming out then stopping short so she could finish the phrase -- I declare a thumb war. If and when she did, Beau would likely surprise her with the not often utilized second verse of the song. “..<i>Five, six, seven, eight – I use this hand to masturbate.” A smirk twitched on his features for a moment before he laughed and ducked his head, focusing on his thumb. ||

[Lara] The warmth of her velvet-soft porcelain hand contrasted sorely with the chill of his damp appendage, but the lure of her already working Glamour all but Bewitched any natural flinch or shiver from emanating from her form. She kept her hold gentle but sure, even as he flexed in her grasp. “It's basically..” And then, the lengthy pause cut by the reciting of the rhyme that accompanied the game, the minx smiled again – earnest in pleasure, that he was familiar with the act after all. She finished with him, “Three, four. I declare a thumb war...” Trailing off, she drew her entire concentration to the meeting of their hands, where her flesh grew all the more comforting and warm. Feather-light and soft while- “Ha!” She laughed, already thrown. Lara had never heard that end to the song. Laughing, she almost went to scold him irritably for the distraction but that – was the aim of the game, no? He was supposed to bring her down with the use of his Lure, but Human distractions would need to be shielded against when the time came for her to use such casting in the outside world. It was good practise. Funny, how his inappropriate and juvenile comment was only adding to the already numerous reasons as to why he was the perfect study partner. Ever the competitor, she met him in the challenge, “Nine, ten, eleven, tweleve. Guess how deep my fingers delve.” Finished with a wink, that made her intentions – juvenile and similar to his. With the song come to an end, and finally so, her French-manicured thumb ceased its little dance and instead began the battle of all battles, seeking to smash his larger one beneath her own. Enticing emerald never glanced below where they met, instead locking with his eyes in an unyielding stare. Heavy-lidded eyes with long lashes, the bite of her lower lip. Her hand was warm on his, scorching almost.

[Beau] And so it began, release the Kraken, or well the thumb. Wiggling this way and that, bending forward and retreating, his chilled appendage gripped hers firmly in his earnest attempt at somehow gaining the upperthumb. Beau was honestly more focused on the physical war being waged between their hands then the one they were supposed to be having via their senses. Thankfully, his random knowledge of the thumb wars juvenile lyrics had temporarily given him an edge as the girl fell for the accidental distraction, and opted to respond just as cheekily. Problem was, he hummed the tune without intent to fool her, while the senior Siren on the other hand knew exactly what she was doing. Oblivious was his friend for the first few moments of their knuckle bumping, but the second he dared remove his eyes from the battlefield and spare a glance at the puppeteer rather than the puppet, all chances at victory ceased. Met with fluttering lashes, eyes angled deliberately, and that tell tale chewing of the lip the fifth year found that his breath caught somewhere in his throat. The vaguely competitive smile that had once been on his lips was lost in the blink of an eye. Caught in the eye of the storm, the building up of the Lure, his thumb had called a ceasefire bordering on a retreat as the induced heat brought on by his adversary took its toll. As usual when flustered, Beau’s ability to tame the reaching tendrils of his lure were significantly lacking. And unfortunately for his study partner, he was easily flustered. Thus as he suddenly flushed, she’d get the image of twinkling optics meeting her gaze head on, appearing thoughtful and contemplative. Beyond the illusion, Lara’s hand sincerely felt much to warm against his own. Cue sweaty palms as Beau blinked back down to see his calloused finger captured beneath her manicured one. However, unruly Sirenous deception would convey the image of that realistically pinned down thumb caressing her knuckle – if only for a moment before he rightly recoiled back into reality. “You win..” He breathed, voice low and husky as he reclaimed his hand and wiped it on his slightly damn jeans, seemingly unaware of the effect he may have had, only able to focus on the his tingling skin and quickened heart beat. ||

[Lara] Their battle was truly in session her smaller, manicured thumb far better on the field than one would presume – without the height to entrap him and yet, swift and sly enough to evade Beau's own attempts at thumb-lock. Cat and mouse they played, in hand and eye. For at last, he'd met her gaze. She felt more than saw her effect on him, and it rattled her own grip of the Bewitchment. A shaky exhale left her parted lips, but with a quivering and half-hearted attempt at a smirk the belle managed, at least, to secure his retreating thumb beneath her own. “I win.” Had she even spoken? Just barely. The melodic notes of the Siren's sweet, enchanting voice was barely a whisper above the howl of the cool, early-evening wind. Her warmth flared in uproar, seeping through touch up his arm only to disengage entirely, even before he retracted his hand and wiped her, and his discomfort from his palm. Her heart had taken to a swift beat beneath the swell of her breast, but she kept her visible cool. Just barely. Now, Lara brought her head to a coy cant and asked earnestly of him, “You aren't giving up, are you? The next exercise, then?” A Siren need not only bring distraction and lust. With the ability to manipulate sensory feelings and thus, one's perspective they could play you like a puppet, and not always for the nefarious reasons one would expect. She aimed to comfort him, her Siren's voice all soft and encouraging with Lure that reigned so strongly she was inwardly tense and tiring. “You're uncomfortable with your Siren half, aren't you?” She could feel it. Everything in his actions thus far, had painted it so. Now, those orbs of emerald fell upon the cool loch, with improvisation in mind. “I have an idea,” the French girl began. Quickly she rose to her feet. This was not her. A clever thought, oui – but such careless acts, spontaneity and carefree abandon was customarily a feat of Mila's. Not hers. Still, delicate hands were plying the wrap of her coat to a loosen, taking buttons two at a time. She was quick. Coat thrown, sweater too, shoes kicked.. Lara dived into the water. She was not the most avid of swimmers, her speed and stamina average at best but she was graceful, and skilled when it came to synchronisation and acrobatics when immersed. Thus, the dive was artful even in haste. Even in clothes! Oui, the belle still wore her uniform – skirt, shirt, tie and stockings. With a splash that may have wet him with the high tide she slipped beneath the glass surface, only to emerge spluttering from water and cold. Lara's lips trembled, but grinned a Cheshire grin. “Are you coming in, then?” A challenge, and one she hoped he would take.

[Beau] The cold breeze on his already damp skin did wonders to sooth his burning cheeks. If he didn’t know better, his feverish form might have been giving off a visible steam. Taking a moment to recompose himself, where as Lara never quite lost hers, Beau rubbed at the back of his neck in that same discomforted manner, not with her but with the overwhelming sensations emitted between the both of them still lingering in the air and assaulting him with every breath he took. It felt – strange – the deceptive nature of the ability. He and it never had really meshed all that well, even now , having spent the past few years with efforts aimed at honing said skills before being thrust into the real world. Suddenly looking up, Beau would put on smile he pulled from his sleeve. “..Heh. ‘Course not.” He just knew when to resign before he really lost control of his senses and how they were affecting her. Still, he ran a hand over his face, swallowing the lump in his throat and steeled his gaze as he lifted his blue optics to meet hers mid cant. Her vaguely invasive question had him blinking, if only because of how genuine it seemed. Then again, with a Siren, you never could tell could you? The simple answer – No. Not at all. But something inside wouldn’t let him voice that thought outright, even if his uncertain eyes gave him away all the same. Ultimately, the boy shrugged, very noncommittal before her improvisation changed the tune of the passing moment. “You do?” Brows crinkled curiously as he followed her movements with a critical eye, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds to realize she was shedding her clothing in heaps. “What kind of idea is –“ Splash Slightly wide eyed at first, she’d leapt in swanlike still clothed to the ‘T’. Click Whatever her plan was, Beau was cool with it, the water was his element, and with a tug of his shirt over his head, and awkwardly hopping out of his jeans, he dove with similar grace. The kind of grace he lacked on land. As if his second aether made up for his other shortcomings, legs and toes had become scaly and webbed before his waist even broke the water’s surface. Treading water effortlessly, he wore a shameless grin this time around as he kicked closer to her bobbing form. “You gonna’ be alright? It’s pretty cold in here.” Though he didn’t quite seem to notice, she was definitely going to be shivering sooner rather than later. With her clothes weighing her down, and the cold likely to be stifling, the Mer offered her a steady arm should she opt to take it. Significantly more confident, Beau’s cheeks no longer had the heated and untamed flush about them, instead he sported a small smirk, noting that he had the edge in whatever ‘idea’ she had next. “What exactly does Prince Eric have in mind?” ||