A man floated in the water off one of the coastal docks, dark-skinned and green-eyed, with long hair like wet steel braided back over his dripping shoulders. Scars crossed his chest and back - bare, except for a harness that held a few pouches and tools - and glittered golden in the mild Deepfrost sunlight. They gleamed from his arms and hands when he raised them to stretch, and powerful muscles bunched and relaxed as he lowered them again.
Beside him, socketed into one of the dock's supports, a simple fishing pole curved gracefully against the sky, the string at its tip trailing far out into the surf. His attention drifted from pole to the distant bobber - often hidden in the waves - and back again until the slender rod suddenly grew taut. Wasting no movement the big man reached for the rod and lifted it free, catching the wheel so it didn't spin out farther. He began to tease the line back with a slow, steady patience, focused entirely on the ancient battle between (mer)man and fish.
Or old boot. It could be a bit of a tossup, this close to the human settlements.
Kenza
Beside him, socketed into one of the dock's supports, a simple fishing pole curved gracefully against the sky, the string at its tip trailing far out into the surf. His attention drifted from pole to the distant bobber - often hidden in the waves - and back again until the slender rod suddenly grew taut. Wasting no movement the big man reached for the rod and lifted it free, catching the wheel so it didn't spin out farther. He began to tease the line back with a slow, steady patience, focused entirely on the ancient battle between (mer)man and fish.
Or old boot. It could be a bit of a tossup, this close to the human settlements.
