Nereus

They say a god walks the beach near the Tsunami Flats, wordless and wandering. His eyes glow blue as the deepest sea trench, his antlers and scales of a purer gold than sunrays cutting through water - even the tips of his wings and tail fade into a slippery teal. Around his body swirls an amalgamation of oceanic life, whispered to be kept alive by his powers alone. Clownfish weave between his legs and wings. Copperband butterflies drift along in small schools besides him, sometimes surging forward to catch up if they fall behind his wake. Streams of water flow from the churning halo that surrounds his head, creating blue bubbles with their movement. Small fins sprout from his head and feet. He wears a delicate cerulean cloth around his waist, and carries a trident:

He is Nereus, lord of the currents, colors, and creatures of the sea. His domain is the cold water which whips past under the surface, and the contrasting warm flow heading in the opposite direction. He is the incarnation of sunlight as it sinks through saltwater to brush against the ocean bed. He holds all the different shades of blue there is to be found in the palm of one paw. He is the protector and guide of all the small, mindless cold-blooded animals that dance and play among the coral reefs.

And he does not speak. But there are those who speak for Nereus, in hushed whispers along the docks of seatowns, in thinly-veiled allegories hidden in old shanties, and in the dead of night, when the moon is hidden and the god is nowhere to be found. They tell the same story: of a long-lost prince, as handsome and dark as the night, with eyes as blue as sea trenches. A story of tragedy, and loss, of a royal ship which went down in a storm, lost to the swell of the waves. Of the body of a young dragon, washed up on a beach, his belly glittering pale as the moon. They say that the prince was close to death, and could only be saved by divine intervention - one last prayer to the salt that sprayed against his wings and the stars that shone above him.

All the songs and stories could not tell you how it happened, but as the legend goes… the prince was turned into a beautiful golden dragon, and was granted another chance, so long as he never spoke again.

No one could confirm if Nereus is the prince in the stories, but… there is no soul alive, not dragon nor familiar nor animal, that could swear they’ve heard the voice of the wandering god. Except, perhaps, the stars.

Lore by slipfast from their daily lore thread