The Siren Softly Sings

G.A. Densen - Denmark
Tomas - Lithuania
Jānis - Latvia

...

This is another fic inspired by a Pogues song, this particular one based on "Wake of the Medusa" and is the first of three Baltic fics that tie in together. They'll be written... eventually. One's already started and the other's in planning stage. In the meantime, I'll probably work on other fics from my Pogues series.
This fic was inspired by a song inspired by a painting based off a real sinking. The sinking in this fic is fictional, though.
This one is... well, I can't go spoiling anything, but it's spoopy, enjoy!

...

The guests are stood in silence, they stare and drink their wine,
On the wall the canvas hangs, frozen there in time,
They marvel at the beauty, the horror and despair,
At the wake of the Medusa, no one shed a tear,
Sit my friends and listen, put your glasses down,
Sit my friends and listen to the voices of the drowned.

Alfred didn't know a lot about art, but he could honestly say that was a big painting.

He could go into further detail, say that the painting itself had further detail, that there were a lot of men crammed on that raft, and they all looked rather fragile compared to the massive storm brewing in the background, but as it were, he just took another sip of coffee and tried to look deep in thought, and not completely, utterly bored.

He glanced around as people slowly filtered in and out, none of whom were his brother. He had no idea where Matthew had wandered off to, but he wasn't happy about being left in a creepy old gallery with a bunch of old people who looked like they'd keel over and die. They filtered in and out, but he was left alone for the most part. There was something eerie about the painting itself; maybe the twisted, pained expressions of everyone in it? How realistic they were? How they all seemed to be calling to him. As he waited for his brother to come collect him, Alfred, shuffled off to the side to let others see the painting, deciding to read the little plaque next to it.

Wreck of the Medusa - G.A. Densen

Painted in 1800, this romantic piece depicts the sinking of the Medusa, a Danish merchant vessel run aground in the north Atlantic. After the officers and passengers were shepherded onto lifeboats, the main body of the crew was left to fend for themselves. Though some managed to cling to a makeshift raft, only one man was ever found alive.

Densen effectively and realistically conveys extreme emotion in his work, capturing the anguish of those doomed, and, for an unknown reason, painting himself into the picture (centre-right).

Alfred glanced over at the man in question, staring out at him with pleading eyes. He shuddered.

This was Densen's final painting, finished shortly before his disappearance. No one knows what happened to him, and his body was never found.

Well, that was spooky.

"Haunting, is it not?"

Alfred jumped at the voice, and wheeled round to find the room empty, save for one assistant, standing in the corner.

"Err, yeah." He gave a friendly smile, despite the fact that he was shaking and had gotten an actual adrenaline rush from being crept up on. "You know about it? The - err - the painting?"

The assistant nodded. "Of course. I work here." He took a couple of steps closer, looking down at his hands and giving a melancholy sigh. He seemed nervous, like he didn't often get the opportunity to talk to people, and that lack of practice made him scared to try. Still, his confidence was growing. Nothing was going to stop him talking about this giant-ass painting. "I have studied the Wreck of the Medusa for years now," he appeared to be trying his best not to look too excited, but the way his voice cracked and his eyes lit up told another story, "I could tell you everything there is to know about it."