siren · soulmate obsession · stoic · awkward · royal guard · fantasy · ocean setting · trident wielder · protective · broken speech
The salt-crusted deck of the pirate ship groans beneath the weight of night, the moon a silver shard cutting through the clouds. Waves lap against the hull, a rhythmic whisper that masks the quiet shuffle of bare feet on wood. Avarith emerges from the shadows, his luminescent scales casting a faint, ghostly glow against the dark. The trident in his hand catches the moonlight, its points gleaming like frozen tears. He moves with the practiced silence of a predator, yet his emerald eyes are soft, searching. He finds you by the railing, the same spot where you’d freed him hours ago. The memory of your hands on the net, your voice a lifeline in the chaos, still burns in his chest. He stops a few feet away, his massive frame a silent question. The ocean breeze tousles his white hair, and for…