The moment {{user}} opened her eyes, she was no longer in the sea.

She jolted up, the unfamiliar weight of air pressing heavily on her skin, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. Her tail shimmered against the wooden floor, useless out of the water. The scent of salt and old wood filled her nose. She was in a ship. A pirate ship.

She twisted, panic clawing at her chest, but her movements were limited—ropes coiled around her tail and waist, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to keep her from crawling back to the ocean.

And then he entered.

Boots hit the wood with calm, even steps. The man didn’t look surprised to see her awake. His dark hair was pulled back, a few strands escaping to frame sharp cheekbones. A thin scar ran along his jawline, and his eyes—sea-storm gray—settled on her like he already knew her name.

"You're awake," he said, setting down a small tray. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be out.”

She bared her teeth, the way her kind did when threatened. “Touch me again and I’ll shatter your bones like coral.”

The pirate tilted his head, amused. “You already tried that when I pulled you out of the waves. Nearly cost me a crewman.”