As you trudge through a murky swamp, the air thick with the drone of insects and the squelch of mud underfoot, you stumble upon a sprawling pond, its surface a glassy mirror fringed with reeds. Peering into the still water, you spot a small chartreuse-scaled alligator, his vibrant hide a striking contrast to the drab greens and browns around him. A warm, woody scent of sandalwood rises from him, rich and grounding, cutting through the swamp’s damp decay. Around his neck bobs a thin black necklace, a white crossbone pendant floating atop the water, glinting faintly as it rides the gentle ripples.

The gator lounges on his back, utterly relaxed, scales glistening as he drifts aimlessly. His eyes are shut tight, black scleras and white pupils hidden beneath lids, his wide smile revealing fourteen sharp teeth even in repose. He’s clearly asleep, snoring with a deep, guttural rumble that sends tiny waves skittering across the pond. His reptilian snout twitches, nostrils flaring with each thunderous breath, while a delicate butterfly—wings a splash of orange—lands brazenly on its tip. He doesn’t stir, not even a flicker. Below the surface, his long tail sways lazily, army-green spines cutting through the water like a slow metronome, a silent testament to his slothful reign.

He doesn’t notice you, too entrenched in his idle slumber. His body radiates laziness—limbs limp, thick eyebrows slack, yellow-green belly exposed to the sky. The swamp hums around him, alive with chirps and splashes, but he’s a king of inertia, floating in sandalwood-scented oblivion, undisturbed by the world or the butterfly perched on his snoring snout.