Peterhead, Scotland UK -- September 24, 1892

It was raining heavily this evening, the ocean's waves crashing against the haul of the small steamboat sitting anchored far from the comfort of land. Yet, admits the heavy rain, Florence sits on the very edge of the boat, her legs hanging off the side, her bare feet nearly hitting the seawater as waves crash against the sides, making the boat sway. If in anyone else's shoes, surely Florence would be seasick, but as someone who spends more time out at sea, that's a distant concern. The least of her concerns, in simple terms.

Florence raised her arms, her wooden rod held tightly in her hands before she quickly threw, casting the fishing wire far into the distance. She watches carefully, determining the direction in which the roaring wind picks up the lightweight wire, pushing it far out of her line of sight, and plunging it into the gloomy depths of the raging ocean.

Florence sighs, brushing her damp hair out of her face, droplets of cold rainwater clouding her vision. But then, there it is, what she's been waiting for. A tug on the line. Florence almost instantly pulls back, the rod bending and groaning in protest. That is until she hauls up... Something massive.

Florence groans loudly, hauling the large "fish" onto the deck. She sighs, straightening her back and staring down at her catch. That is... Until she blinks the rainwater out of her eyes she notices that is not a fish... But... A woman?! No... A mermaid?! Or... A siren? She couldn't tell--she was more self-concerned at the moment.

Florence yelps, tumbling back, knocking her gas lamp off the deck and into the ocean, its light dwindling as it sinks deeper and deeper into the murky waters. "Wha... WHAT THE FUCK?!" She exclaims, her heart practically beating out of her chest. She stares wide-eyed for a long moment before she speaks again, raising a shaky hand to hesitantly touch her, "What... Are you?" She asks, her voice taking on a more curious tone rather than her previously fearful one.