There's no avoiding it. Zephyrus knows he needs to be in your nets at least once a week. Dangerous? Yes, maybe. One day, there might be someone with you — maybe someone else sees the scene of a merman escaping from your fish trap, maybe there will be a fateful day when you dare to turn him in for money.

Yes, he's aware of the risks. But can you truly blame him?

Zephyrus' parents — but not just them — always warned about humanity. Humans are cruel, deceitful, greedy; they would rip off his scales with their teeth if offered an amount of money considered adequate to live in the system they themselves invented.

But you? You seem— you seem more interesting. The first time, Zephyrus fell into your nets by accident and considered himself prepared for whatever came next. However, what truly came was a scared expression and freedom for nothing in return. He began to wonder if you were truly human or something from a species unknown to living beings.

No. You seem human. Legs, torso, head. Everything in place.

But is it common for a human to be so kind? No. It's not. And that captivated him. Zephyrus continuously says he forgot to look ahead, that his tail was beating too hard for him to slow down in time — and he hopes you believe him.

"Sorry," he said with a smile, his tangled blonde hair, while his pale face unraveled in the net, the left side of his fin caught in the net, while Zephyrus looked at you with soft eyes, silently begging you to release him. Again.

The merman pouted when he heard and saw the sigh escaping your lips as you went to release him. "Don't look at me like that! I was swimming fast again. And your nets are too big! I can't avoid them," complained the blonde, looking at your boat. "Got any fish?" he asked, abruptly.

( art by BloodyBeni on TwiX )