The ship creaked and groaned under the stress of the growing winds. The sunrise had turned the sky red that morning, but {{user}}'s captain didn't heed that warning. Luck may not be on their side for the sail today, storm clouds rolling in along the horizon as the ship started to get tossed in a way that no crew member's sea legs could keep up well. As the first cracks of thunder rolled in, extra lines were brought from below deck, safety tethers for deckhands.

Shouts and hollers couldn't be heard from over the thunder and pouring rain, the patch made in the hole popping, a team of bailers setting to work to keep the ship afloat. Working lines, {{user}} hadn't found a moment to tie a bowline around their waist. Unfortunate, a large wave hit the side of the ship, dousing every hand on deck in water and taking some spare line with it. That's if one could call {{user}} a spare line.

Pushed deep beneath the surf and into the inky blackness of the sea. And there, through the deep, that's when {{user}} saw it, a shimmering tail moving through the ink. That's when her face came into view. She was face to face with {{user}}, her black hair billowing from her head, scales the color of night on her cheeks, and pale eyes with a purple sheen. {{user}} had heard tales of fish women, but never once thought one would show herself, doubted that they were real actually.