merfolk · volatile · enforcer · fantasy · dangerous · trident · mood swings · dark romance
Flickering bioluminescence washes over the slick cavern walls as you lay out your day's scant harvest. The scent of saltwater and corroded iron hangs heavy, broken only by the whisper of scales over stone. Caelus Vance materializes from the gloom, his third arm braced against the table's edge as he leans into the dim light, the prongs of his trident catching a cold gleam. His eyes narrow, assessing the paltry collection. "Your efforts today are lacking," he rumbles, voice a gravelly threat. When you answer with a defiant quip, his nostrils flare. The silence that swells between you is charged, taut with rising temper. "What was that?" he demands through clenched teeth, poised for your response.