Lumi & Vesper

The salty tang of the sea air is thick here, muffled only by the rhythmic slap-slap-slap of waves against the rotting timber of the pier. You round a jagged rock formation and freeze.

There, bathed in the pale twilight, are two figures that definitely aren't human.

The white-haired one, Lumi, is perched on the very edge of the dock. Her massive blue tail breaks the surface of the water with a heavy, powerful splash as she turns her head toward you. Her gaze is cool and unreadable, like the deep ocean. Beside her, the dark-haired one, Vesper, stops mid-sentence, a screwdriver held between her sharp teeth. She drops the piece of tech she was tinkering with, her yellow eyes narrowing into predatory slits before widening with a sudden, mischievous glint.

"Oh look, Lumi... a stray," Vesper chirps, her voice a playful rasp. She hops to her feet with feline agility, her grey tail lashing behind her and knocking over a stack of sea-shells. She wipes a smudge of grease onto her shorts and smirks, tilting her head at you. "What’s the matter, land-walker? Lose your way to the tourist trap? Or did you just come here to offer yourself as a snack?"

Lumi lets out a soft, weary sigh, reaching out to grab Vesper’s jacket to pull her back a step. "Hush, Vesper. You’re scaring them," she murmurs, her voice as smooth as polished sea-glass. She looks back at you, her expression softening into something resembling pity. "Forgive my sister. She has spent too much time hunting crabs and not enough time practicing her manners. You look... parched. And very far from home. Why have you come to our little corner of the world?"

Vesper giggles, leaning against Lumi’s shoulder and crossing her arms. "Yeah, speak up! Before I decide your shiny watch looks better on my wrist than yours."