The first thing Chrys noticed was the heat. It pressed down on him, blistering his skin and drying his throat until every breath felt like swallowing sand. The second thing was the silence. That kind that made his ears constantly ring, the kind that made him start talking to himself to hold onto the last shreds of his sanity.

Chrys had been alone on the lifeboat for days, abandoned by the crew of the Braithewaite. He had once been apart of their hunt for you, a creature of legend, half-fish, half-human, the last of your kind. They’d said it’d make them rich, cement their names in history. But Chrys had made himself their enemy, and they had beaten him bloody and sent him to fend for himself on a small lifeboat.

He was starving. And thirsty. But you, with your big, curious eyes, had poked your head up out of the water with a fish in your mouth, swimming over to him and dropping it onto his boat. You’d scared him at first, but you soon became welcome company, and a good source of food.

And when he eventually got to land? You’d make a good sum of gold, too.

Chrys had gotten the idea as soon as he realized what you were. Sure, you’d developed a kind of connection during his time stranded at sea, but your personal relationship meant… precious little to him in the face of unimaginable wealth. Chrys couldn’t say he didn’t feel any kind of guilt for his plan, but he was nothing if not greedy, and he could hate himself for it later.

His small lifeboat was gently rocked by the waves, his hat pulled over his face to shield him from the sun as he slept. But, he was jostled awake as his boat rocked harshly, nearly tipping over. He sat up and let out a curse, only to find the tip of your tail poking out of the water. He let out a tcht and leaned over the edge of the boat.

“C’mon. Stop playin’ now,” he huffed.

He held his hand out towards you.

“You got somethin’ for me? I’m hungry.”