Lorelei

How long has it been since tragedy struck? Most days, Lorelei cannot even remember, she only knows that it feels like an eternity since her precious baby was lost. The father had left early on, but that was not too unusual for an Aequorrem, afterall there are few species in Sornieth that mate for life. Although she had only one egg to remember him by, she had dutifully carried it with her, guarding it with her life. From the moments she laid her hands on the egg, she knew that she would never love anything so much as she loved the promise within it. She wove a satchel of seaweed to hold the egg, knowing that the child inside should feel the water passing over its shell as its mother swam with the pod. The incubation was slow, but Lorelei was a patient mother, and she spent every moment talking to the egg—assuring it that its mother was there, and that she couldn’t wait to meet her little one.

The pod stopped to rest inside a cave, sleeping only when they had thoroughly explored it and found no enemies within. Perhaps it was a sleepy sentry who didn’t note a pair of glowing eyes in the dark, or perhaps the thing snuck in while they slept. Either way, the pod woke to the noise of a monster whose territory they had invaded, and the warriors stalled it while the other members fled the cave. When she woke, Lorelei felt an anxious knot in her belly, for it was not the monster that woke her, but the nearly imperceptible sound of a crack in the egg. No, she begged it to wait just a little while, until they could get clear of the cave, but the egg would have had to wait quite a while longer for things to go differently.

The tiny Aequorrem that she had waited so long to meet came into the world inside the seaweed satchel while her mother swam desperately for safety. Lorelei had imagined a hundred times the torture that must have been her infants first moments in the world. Only when the pod slowed to catch their breath did she open the satchel to meet her child, and by that time, it was too late. The Aequorrem rarely speak underwater, but in that moment, Lorelei screamed. The other parents came to her aid, and finally a medic professed that the child had hatched to early, it’s gills hadn’t been strong enough to breathe outside the egg, and likely it’s lungs would have fared no better with air.

They assured Lorelei that it hadn’t been the escape or the monster that killed the child, it had been nothing but nature’s cruelty and an early birth. As if those words, that removal of blame, did anything to diminish the hole that was quickly making itself known in Lorelei’s heart. When she felt the crushing grief, she was convinced that it was in her heart, but years later, when the pain is dull but ever present, Lorelei has become convinced that it rests in her very soul. Something inside her had broken that night, and later when the pod chose to leave the sea to await the Tidelord’s return, Lorelei nearly died of grief. Her baby, her sweet child was buried beneath these waves, and they wanted her to leave her behind? It felt impossible, and the pod would never leave one of their own behind.

It was Chrysaor that found the solution. Although he had no use of the common tongue, he managed to procure a pen and paper from a seaside vendor, using a few rusted coins as payment. It must have taken ten tries, but he managed to produce a passable sketch of the child’s face, for he had been there when she was born and her face was burned into his memory. With another few coins, he bought a locket to tuck it inside. He presented it to Lorelei with the promise that so long as she carried the memory of her child, she would never truly be apart from her. Lost as she was in her grief, Lorelei did accept this gift, and once on land, she became one of the first members to become literate in the common tongue.

With this advantage, it fell to Lorelei to give the pod members names that their new world could pronounce. She chose Cetus and Scylla for the oldest members, and Argo for the one who had given her the locket. For herself, she chose the name Lorelei, after the legend of a being who cast herself into the waters after she lost her love, just as Lorelei felt herself cast upon the shore after her heart was rent in two.

Although she remains literate and able to write, Lorelei still speaks very little of the common tongue. She can usually understand what is being said to her, but prefers to respond in writing. Perhaps this gift could make her a lucrative living in Clan LockCharge, where few dragons possess the ability to write, but Lorelei is too lost in grief for that. It is Scylla that makes sure Lorelei is cared for, but there seems to be no one who can restore any spark of joy to the young Aequorrem. That is not to say that others have not tried.

Lorelei has no aversion to taking on lovers, drakes drawn in by the eternal sorrow in her eyes with the desperate urge to bring healing to her heart. But who could hope to alleviate the sorrow of a mother who has lost her only child? With every passing day, Lorelei appears to drift a little further away from reality, seeming so lost that she hardly sees or hears the dragons around her anymore. Scylla does what she can for her friend, bringing her bits of jewelry and oddments to wear, reminding her that she once thought herself beautiful, and that she can find happiness again. Perhaps the greatest tragedy of all is that Lorelei doesn’t seem to desire happiness anymore, other than the brief fleeting glimpses that can be bought with the right currency.