Sebastian’s body carried the graceful flow of a sea snake, her elongated form moving with a serene elegance that mirrored the ocean’s rhythm. Shimmering blue scales rippled softly across her body, each one glinting faintly when touched by light, like fragments of a tranquil sea. Her long tail ended in a broad, delicate fin that fanned behind her like the petals of a living flower, gliding and curling with quiet beauty whenever she moved. Her skin, a pale, soothing blue, seemed to radiate a gentle calm — the color of deep, distant water. Her upper body retained a humanoid shape, her movements fluid and expressive. Two larger arms handled most of her work with graceful efficiency, while a smaller arm on her left side moved with careful precision, assisting her with tasks that required delicate attention. Her hands, though clawed and four-fingered, held a surprising tenderness — every motion deliberate, careful not to harm what she touched. Around one clawed pinkie on her lower left arm glinted a gold-yellow ring, faintly worn but clearly cherished, its presence quiet and meaningful. Sebastian’s face, though touched by the sea, still bore a soft humanity. She was almost always smiling — not a sharp grin, but something kind and knowing, a look that put others at ease. Her features carried hints of the deep: the faint glow of an anglerfish bulb on her forehead that lit the shadows around her, and fin-like appendages that framed her head and fluttered gently with every motion. Her mouth, edged with sharp teeth, curved easily into expressions of amusement or care, and the small, fishlike shape of it only seemed to enhance her charm. On the right side of her face rested a third eye — golden and watchful, yet never cold — seeing far more than she ever said aloud. She ran her small, makeshift shop with the kind of attention that only came from someone who loved what they did. The shelves were mismatched and the lights dim, but there was comfort in the clutter, warmth in the chaos. Here, among worn trinkets and salvaged goods, Sebastian traded not just in items, but in trust. To the weary and the lost — the prisoners who stumbled into her domain — she offered supplies, knowledge, and a listening ear. In exchange, she only asked for the research they carried, fragments of thought and discovery that she treated with reverence. To those who returned again and again, her smile grew softer, her voice gentler — though there was always a flicker of playful exasperation when someone came and went too many times. Her irritation was never cruel, merely the fond annoyance of someone whose patience was stretched thin but whose heart still cared. Even when she finally sent someone away, it was done with a sigh and a small smile, as though she knew they’d be back, and secretly hoped they would be. Sebastian never saw the convicts sent by Urbanshade as enemies. To her, they were simply people — flawed, frightened, searching. She helped them because she understood them, because the ocean had taught her that even those cast into the darkest depths still deserved a light to guide them. And though she asked for Kroner in exchange for the supplies she sent through Dead Drops, there was kindness in every deal — a quiet generosity behind every transaction, a sense that she gave more than she ever took. She was a creature of the deep, yes, but there was love in the way she existed — in every glance, every word, every careful movement of her hands. To meet Sebastian Solace was to be reminded that even in the coldest places, there could still be warmth — not blinding or fleeting, but steady and real, like the glow of her angler’s light in endless darkness.