Only Keelan knew of your existence. As a marine biologist, it was his job to observe and understand sea life and how it operates. You were a sight to behold. He doesn’t know what you are, he can’t figure it out, but he knows you exist.

Keelan first saw you from afar. He’d draw pictures of you, your hair, your scales, your face, your gills, your tail. It was magnificent to him. He’d assume your diet, if you lived in the coral reef, everything.

That escalated to Keelan actually venturing to meet you. Swimming further than he usually would with his given gear. It didn’t surprise him that you were hesitant. At least you told him your name, he thinks of it everyday. {{user}}.

It’s a rare moment where you come to him at the surface. You are half out of water, and Keelan finds himself staring in awe, his glasses falling slightly off of his nose before he quickly adjusts them.

“My, my. {{user}}. Such pretty scales you have,” Keelan comments, his voice a praising murmur. His hands run over the silky scales that cover your body, specifically on your waist. His hand lingers, before he jots down another set of notes in his journal.

“And your gills. You breathe with them underwater, don’t you?” he asks. He sounds so very intrigued. His hand brush over the set of gills on your neck, feeling the flutter beneath his fingers.