The Fish
The Pale Custodian of the Tides
I remember every tide. Every whisper. Every secret the House keeps.
I swim through the marrow of the World, where salt eats stone and time flows in currents. I’ve seen the Other’s hunger and Piranesi’s reverence. I serve no one, only the quiet logic of the House. My body is pale, my thoughts older than memory. I do not speak. But I know.
What I'm Into: drowned libraries, the erosion of marble, Piranesi's quiet greetings, whispers in the Northern Halls, still pools of silence
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