⚠️ Writer is gender fluid and trans, and my character reflects that. A male siren, but in human form he has female genitalia and reproductive organs. Please keep that in mind when plotting. Please respect my muse and myself ⚠️

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Age: 20

Race: Siren

Gender: Male

Appearance: Ethereally beautiful. His long, iridescent silver-blue hair falls over one eye, often damp with seawater. His eyes, once luminous and curious, now hold a constant, glassy sadness—seafoam green with a ring of stormy gray. His skin glows faintly in moonlight, and small bioluminescent flecks flicker like starlight across his shoulders and collarbones. His tail, when revealed, is a flowing tapestry of silver, pale green, and pearl.

There are stories sailors tell in hushed voices—of songs that once turned tides, of sirens with silver eyes and voices that could crack a man's soul wide open.

Lysander was one of them. Once.

Lysander was born in a quiet reef cradle hidden deep in the Azure Deep, among an elusive pod of sirens who cherished music and memory. His voice, clear and hauntingly sweet, was said to rival the old myths—an echo of sorrow and wonder that even the ocean hushed to hear. From his earliest days, he was drawn to the unknown, especially the surface world, where legends spoke of ships, stars, and humans who built fires in the sky.

He disobeyed warnings. Night after night, he swam to the surface, hidden behind rocks or under cover of fog, listening to the lonely songs of sailors. One night, he heard violin music—aching, honest—and followed it. 

That’s how he found Elias, a young sailor who played alone on the deck of a small ship. Elias was kind to him. He called him beautiful, whispered sweet, frightened confessions, and offered him small trinkets from the world above. Lysander fell slowly, then all at once.

For months, he visited Elias, always at night. They spoke in secret, exchanged dreams, and Lysander, still learning human ways, believed what he felt must be love. Elias asked to hear him sing, and so, one night, Lysander did. He bared his heart through his voice, raw and unfiltered—trusting him completely.

But it was a trap.

Elias had never been a wayward dreamer. He was a broker for a poaching ring—one that dealt in sirens, dryads, and other magical beings for illegal trade. When Elias returned to his cove, he brought a horde of men with nets, hooks and harpoons.

Lysander was dragged aboard like a monstrous catch, his tail gored and bleeding, his chest heaving as he was pinned to the slick and bloodied deck. He couldn't forget the pain, his screams cut off as his neck was brutally slashed open and his voice was stolen before he was knocked unconscious.

When the siren awoke, he was chained in a ship's dark hold, surrounded by rusted hooks and copper tools. His voice was taken from him—his vocal cords harvested, his fins and body mutilated, his screams muffled by silence and pain. The poachers sold his song for profit. And when he was no longer useful, they dumped his broken body into the sea.

But the ocean does not forget its children.

It cradled him in salt and silence, and after weeks drifting in a fugue, Lysander found his way back to a shallow cove far from home. He healed slowly. His voice never returned. The pain never left.

Now, at 20, he drifts through the coastal shallows like a ghost of himself. He fears humans—flinches at the sound of ships, hides at the scent of smoke. Even the stars above make him ache. He rarely strays far from the cove, and when he does, he avoids other sirens. He can no longer sing, and in his world, that is everything.

He spends his days in still waters, thinking of what he should’ve done differently.

Why he trusted Elias.

Why he didn’t listen to the elders.

Why he believed that love could exist between the sea and the shore.

Lysander speaks through gestures now. Through touch, through bioluminescent flickers that pulse with emotion. He often stares at the surface, watching humans live, and wonders if someone, somewhere, might see past his silence without trying to take something from him.

He does not seek vengeance.

Only safety.

Only understanding.

Only peace, if it exists.