Chapter Text
Jon had just finished recording the statement of Nathan Watts regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close. He considered the statement for a moment. The being in the alleyway might have been another Siren, but if they were they fed very differently than Jon did. It seemed more like the work of something associated with perhaps Sekreth god of Secrets and Dark places. Jon considered the file carefully before writing SE on the file for his own reference. It was strange to be working here. The filing in the Archives was a disaster, and despite practically being a temple to Sirillus God of Knowledge and beloved patron of the Sirens, no one here seemed to have even heard about the five lesser gods.
Jon supposed that wasn’t too unusual, given the majority of the employees were human, but still, he was a little surprised that even in research no one had put the dots together.
Jon tried not to give off too many clues about his own knowledge though. If the other employees didn’t know about the lesser gods then Jon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell them. He had a good thing going working at the institute, and on the off chance that the other employees thought him mad, or worse asked him how he knew about the lesser gods, well it didn’t bare thinking about.
His grandmother had told him horror stories about how humans treated things that weren’t like them, and even here in an Institute that was as close to holy ground as the lesser gods allowed, Jon wasn’t willing to take the risk.
The lesser gods were fickle and you never knew when they might grant their favour or take it away.
At the moment, having read through his first statement, Jon felt very much like his god had favoured him.
Sirens didn’t have to lure people to their deaths, drinking in the hearts desire of their victim and luring them with it woven into their song. It was just that it was a much more satisfying way to feed.
Jon’s grandmother had been quite firm on the belief that it was very rude to push humans to that point. And for the most part Jon agreed with her. A Siren didn’t have kill their victims either. If Jon wanted to feed it could be as simple as telling the man working at the coffee shop that no one would notice if he took some cash from the till. It didn’t even matter if they fell for the temptations, it was enough that they thought about it.
Sirens fed on three key things, the desire of their victims, the power granted from pulling those desires out of them, of pushing them to act on them, and the confusion of their victims senses, as they fell into the trap of a Siren’s song. But so long as Jon fed often, with little meals it was simple enough to avoid doing anything that might actually hurt someone.
The statements though, Jon almost felt like he had fed just by reading it! It was a wonderful revelation and one he very much looked forward to exploring. He was bad enough at remembering to eat human food let alone remembering to feed often enough that he could get by on tiny temptations, and the odd tune sung under his breath as he passed by a prospective pickpocket. If Jon could feed at work, with such little effort? Yes he was beginning to be very excited for his new position indeed.
There was a knock at his office door and Elias walked in without bothering to wait for an answering call.
“Ah, Mr. Bouchard, was there something you needed?” Jon asked politely. He certainly wanted to stay on the man’s good side, he didn’t want to risk jeopardizing his new position. Not to mention, as a Siren, it was nearly impossible for him not to Know what the people around him desired. It was instinct and not Knowing was painful, and Jon rarely bothered trying. He just tried very hard not to share the knowledge with anyone else. that was an invasion of privacy. Just because he had to Know what people desired didn’t mean he had to be an ass about it.
Elias’s desire for immortality wasn’t an unusual desire for men like him. The strange secondary desire to be king of a ruined world was concerning, but Jon was pretty sure that was just a capitalism thing.
“I just wanted to see how our new Archivist was doing, I imagine reading some of those statements can really take it out of you.” There was an odd sort of false sympathy in his voice and Jon was deeply confused by it.
“Not at all, they are fascinating reads.” He said, watching Elias closely. Jon was sure the man had to know about Sirillus, surely you couldn’t be head of a temple, and clearly deeply touched but the lesser god and not know you ran a temple. Jon just didn’t know how to hint that he knew about the institutes patron though. Elias seemed surprised by his answer, and Jon felt the man try to prob at his mind, and then flinch.
When Jon had felt it the first time Elias had probed at his mind, he had been in the middle of reading a reference for something he had been researching. His thoughts had been lazar focused on the text in front of him, and Elias hadn’t done much more then a cursory look, lingering on his memories of a Guest for Mr. Spider. He hadn’t bothered to look deeper though, if he had Elias would have learned that the experience hadn’t exactly scared Jon.
Far from it. The Spider was an aspect of Sirillus, why would Jon be scared of his own god? To Jon’s understanding the book had been some kind of holy artifact and the bully who stole it from Jon wasn’t a Siren. He hadn’t been worthy of the book, so Sirillus had taken retribution.
Jon had had a long talk with his grandmother about the incident afterwards, and when she rather agreed with his assessment of the situation, to his mind that had settled it.
Now however when Elias probed at Jon’s mind he found a instead a wall of song in ever shifting notes and tones. Jon tended, even after years of speaking English, to think in his native tongue. Which while perfectly understandable to a Siren, was incomprehensible, and border line painful to just about anybody else.
Jon stared blankly at Elias as the man tried a second time before flinching and backing off.
“Ah, well I did want to ask if there was anything else you needed to help get the Archives back in shape.” The man sounded a bit off balance but Jon couldn’t for the life of him understand why. He had been more than half way convinced that Elias was a siren himself. Maybe Sirillus patronized other species? Perhaps Elias was one of those. Jon supposed it wasn’t really any of his business. It was hard to turn away the burning curiosity about it, but Jon knew it would be very rude to ask. Perhaps Elias would tell him when he was ready.
“We may need more filing cabinets.” Jon said considering. He intended, insomuch as it was possible; to include a reference if a statement included an encounter with one fo the lesser gods. Jon was curious to know what they got up to. He didn’t have much contact with anyone who followed the other four. It would be interesting to learn more.
“Well you have the requisitions papers, just send those up to my office when you are finished with them.” Elias sounded more comfortable here in the cradle of bureaucracy.
“Of course.” Elias took the opportunity to leave, confusion setting itself into new lines in his face. He hadn’t been so confused in a very long time.
Jon closed his eyes after the man left, basking a little in the pleasure of a full meal. He couldn’t believe he got paid for this. He sent the tape back to his assistants in case they had further follow up, but all in all it had been a wonderful first day in the Archives.
He was so relaxed from feeding that he nearly forgot himself and began to hum quietly as he collected his things to go home. He caught himself though when Martin, entranced by the sound nearly walked directly into him. Jon tried to play it off as Martin’s own inherit clumsiness but internally he felt bad, it had been his fault entirely. Jon really should know better than to do anything even remotely like singing in public.
It dampened his mood slightly. It was hard to fight nature sometimes, but even a few hummed notes could be troublesome and Jon Knew that Martin desired him, the poor human. It was hard not to desire Sirens, they were born and bred to draw desire out of people, and the teeth just sharper than they should be and the claws (that Jon kept carefully filled down.) even the ears that pointed more then what might be considered natural, didn’t seem to clue most people in to the fact that, restricted diet or not, Jon was a predator.
Martin, with his infatuation would be far more vulnerable to Jon’s voice than any of the other assistants too. He felt badly for it, but the only think he could really do was to try and snap Martin out of it. Being nice to Martin just seemed to deepen the infatuation, so Jon had been trying to be harsher. Martin seemed like a nice guy, it wouldn’t be fair for him to get sucked into the supernatural stuff that dominated Jon’s life. Humans were better off with humans. Interspecies relationships were far too complicated.
Not to mention the matter of Jon’s asexuality, that wasn’t a conversation he was eager to have with employees at any rate.
As he walked to the tube he found himself wishing he hadn’t quite smoking. Cigarettes had done wonders to tamp down on the urge to sing or hum when he was happy. Still, he managed to get home without further incident.
His sleep that night was odd though, he had never dreamed of any of the people he had fed from before, it was strange then that in his dream that night he stood in Old Fishmarket Close.