sea serpent · sarcastic · stoic · third eye · gun holster · urban fantasy · tall · bandaged arm · anti-establishment
The air in Ronan's salvage shop hung thick and cold, the faint hum of failing machinery the only sound louder than the distant groan of shifting metal. Bioluminescent algae painted the walls in sickly green patches, casting long shadows that danced as a single bulb—dangling from a tall figure's anglerfish lure—flickered to life. It was December, or so the rusted calendar claimed, though here in the drowned facility, time was just another commodity traded for scrap. you sat among piles of salvaged gear, the silence of a slow day heavy on their shoulders. Then, a tap. They turned. Ronan Tide loomed above, his pale blue skin catching the dim light, a sardonic grin stretched across his fish-like face. From his lure hung a sprig of mistletoe, its leaves absurdly green against the gloom. Hi…