It was no longer a physical hunger that gnawed at Aelius--but something far deeper and more primal. He listened with rapt attention, hanging on to every word the phantasm said. Each offer of hers seemed more enticing than the last--he wondered just how many offers she was going to throw at him--but still he listened to her, his dark eyes full of a swirling sea of emotions.

Even as she spoke, he could feel himself falling under her siren sway. If she was no phantom, than she was at least a siren, stumbled upon land to prey upon the poor and desperate souls that wandered these sandy paths. Still, he found himself weak to her--whether because of the hunger, her beauty, or her promises, he was not sure. He supposed that it did not matter as to the why of his desire, but rather, what would come out of it.

Promises, promises--enough to overwhelm, and whet his appetite. He was trapped, enraptured by her every word. Her beauty was surely the essence of songs and ballads, and her honeyed words were quickly wooing him into action. Not that he had been in any position to do anything else, except perhaps perish. Which, while enticing, was not necessarily an option he wished to pursue at this time. He was just too damned pretty to die.

“Promises, promises” he said, as the phantom siren finished her plea. Aelius knew he was going to do whatever she asked of him, but he was not about to make it easy. He knew that once he submitted to her whims, any leverage he might have had in this negotiation was going to be gone. And where would the fun be then? He may be starving, and desperate, but he was not without the energy to be difficult.

“ Your promises may be as beautiful to behold as you are, and sweeter than honey, but they are just words. The words of a siren, mayhaps,” he said with a wry, tired grin. If he had only had the strength to do anything but lay there, he might have been more intimidating. As it was, his words would have to stand on their own strength.

“There certainly is plenty there to imagine, a feast of opportunities, if what you say is true, More opportunities than even I could swing a sword at,” he said, giving his own sword a reassuring pat.

“Truthfully, it sounds far too good to be true. And what proof have you of these claims of family and fortune? A few coins? They could have come from anywhere.” Aelius weaved his doubtful words tiredly. If she had caught him with more energy in his being, then maybe he could have made a better argument. Still, she had said that she had once been like him. That kind of thing was an easy enough boast to make--but he could see the haunted look in her eyes as she spoke about that--there was no lie there.

It was the soft touch on his cheek, the question of trust, and the purr of her words that would ultimately undo him. Her touch was pure fire, and her words were a gentle, inviting respite from the storm. He was so tired, he couldn’t have fought her if he wanted to--and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. She was temptation given flesh, and Aelius had always been easy to tempt and quick to fall. But he was very curious about the man she served, what great man could twist this beautiful siren to his whims? He must be great indeed to wield such power--a thought which also sent a jolt of excitement through Aelius, rousing him just enough to quicken his heartbeat.

“You do not know me, beautiful temptress, and to trust a stranger would be death. You cannot trust me, and I cannot trust you. Yet, at least. You can however trust a desperate man to do what he needs so that he does not die of starvation. What is your name, Siren of the sands? If you are not a making of my own mind or a phantom of hunger, then you must have one.” He sighed, and smoothed out his clothing, finding the energy to at least try and make himself slightly more presentable.

“Mine is Aelius, for whatever that is worth. If I live long enough for anyone to remember it, all the better I suppose. Otherwise the curse of obscurity will forget it in these sands, and it will never have mattered anyways.”