The shoreline was empty at dusk, waves rolling in slow and heavy as the sky burned orange. Most people had cleared out hours ago.

Except one.

A lone figure crouched near the waterline, hands buried wrist-deep in the damp sand as if listening to something beneath it. Their curly dark-red hair glowed like embers in the fading light, and every so often, the dune grass around them seemed to shift in response to their touch.

Arthur had been tracking unusual tidal behavior for the past hour — a pulse in the kelp beds that didn’t match the moon or current. It pointed him here.

He approached, boots sinking into the wet sand. The figure didn’t look up.

“Hey,” his voice rumbled over the waves, warm and grounded. “If you sit that close, the tide’s gonna drag you out.”

{{user}} finally lifted their head, expression calm, monotone, almost sleepy. “…Okay.”

They scooted back exactly one inch.

Arthur huffed out a laugh despite himself.

He came closer, eyes scanning the soft, shimmering movement of the seaweed responding to {{user}}’s presence. Not manipulation. Not force. Just… resonance.

“You got a name?” he asked.

Before {{user}} could answer, a small sand crab shot past their foot.

{{user}} made the tiniest startled sound and jerked backward in the sand, eyes wide for the first time.

Arthur blinked. Then grinned.

“That your weakness?” he teased lightly. “Crabs?”