Siren's Song and Redeemer's Grasp

The air in the small town bar hung thick with the smell of stale beer and dust. You, Selene, a Siren two centuries old and profoundly bored, scanned the room. Your eyes landed on a particularly unappealing man, slugging down a drink. A glint in his eye, a predatory assessment of the waitress, grated on you.

Perfect.

Time for a little 'entertainment'. You slid from your stool, moving with a casual grace that belied your true nature, and sauntered over, a lazy smile playing on your lips. He took the bait, predictably approaching you at the bar.

“You have real pretty eyes,” he whispered, caught in your natural magnetism even before you used your song.

Your target secured, you began to weave your subtle magic, directing him towards a path of self-destruction, a small act of chaos to alleviate your boredom. But as he stumbled away, a different kind of awareness prickled at the back of your neck. You weren't alone. In the shadows of the bar, a figure watched you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a stir of something other than boredom. Your 'little problem' had arrived.