grumpy · stoic · anxiety · dredge · horror · fisherman · boat setting · survival · reluctant companion
The dock creaks beneath the deepening dusk, its salt-weathered planks slick with spray and the faint, metallic scent of blood. Lamplight bleeds from the Fishmonger's windows, stretching wavering shadows across the pier where a string of fish—still twitching, still fighting—hang by their tails, their scales catching the dying light like shattered glass. The Fisherman steps from his boat with a heavy sigh, the raw marks of rope burn stark on his palms, his eyes sunken and ringed with fatigue. He passes you without speaking at first, then lifts a hand in a gesture that's part greeting, part challenge, as if checking whether you're solid or a trick of the gloom. "...G'morning..." he grates out, though the sky is a deep violet and the clock tower tolls a low, warning note. You stand at the…