Blood and Brine - Connor and Calypso

[Connor Stormborn]

Location: The Outskirts of Black Hollow bordering coastal region that connects to the Abyssal Depths.

The scent of salt and blood clung to the wind.

Connor Stormborn stood at the edge of the Black Hollow coastline, boots sinking slightly into damp earth as the distant waves crashed against the jagged rocks below. The tide was restless, foaming and thrashing as if mirroring the unease that coiled in his gut. Overhead, thick clouds smothered the moon, casting the world in shifting shadows, broken only by the occasional flicker of distant lightning on the horizon.

He exhaled slow and steady, nostrils flaring as he caught the lingering traces of something foul in the air—brine laced with death. Another attack. Another reason for the merfolk to come looking for someone to blame.

And blame had landed squarely on him and his pack.

The rumors spread like wildfire. Merfolk settlements torn apart, bodies washing ashore with wounds that looked suspiciously like the work of wolves. The other packs kept their hands clean, pointing their self-righteous claws toward the lawless rogues of Black Hollow. It was too convenient. Too well-timed.

Someone was pulling the strings.

Connor flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders as the familiar tension of a brewing war settled deep in his bones. He had spent years clawing out a place for his people, carving a home where no pack, no king, no goddamn self-proclaimed ruler could dictate their fate. He had bled for it. Killed for it. He sure as hell wasn’t about to watch it crumble because some bastard wanted to pit land and sea against each other.

Which was why he was here.

He had sent word for an audience with her—Calypso, the so-called Queen of the Deep. It hadn’t been easy. The merfolk didn’t respond well to demands, and they sure as hell didn’t take kindly to a rogue wolf calling for parley. But this wasn’t a plea. It was a challenge.

Meet me, or watch this war burn everything you claim to protect.

Connor had no illusions about how this would go. Merfolk weren’t the kind to bow, and neither was he. He expected hostility. Resistance. Hell, for all he knew, he might be walking straight into an ambush. But if there was even a chance Calypso wasn’t behind these attacks, if she wanted the truth as much as he did… then maybe, just maybe, they could crack this open before it turned into all-out war.

The wind howled through the craggy cliffs, the sound eerie, almost whispering. He glanced at the water, the inky surface shifting, churning, something moving just beneath. Watching. Waiting.

He let out a low breath, his muscles coiled tight.

Connor Stormborn didn’t beg, and he sure as hell didn’t kneel. But for the sake of his pack, for the ghosts of his past who had died because of blind trust, he would face whatever storm came next.

Even if it meant meeting a queen in the depths of her own dominion.

[Calypso Seaweed]

With a flick of her shimmering tail, Calypso dismissed her advisors, who urged her to remain in the depths rather than rush to the surface for a meeting. Yet she refused to let a wolf—especially a rogue one claiming to be an alpha—challenge her authority. Grasping her trident and securing it on her back, she elegantly glided through one of the portholes of her coral mountain castle, determined to represent her people.

As she made her way toward the cove, the designated meeting spot, she broke the surface of the water, her keen eyes immediately locking onto the lone blonde male standing there. With a fluid motion, her merfolk tail transformed into bipedal legs, ensuring the wrap around her body was secure before stepping onto the land. "You know, with a surname like Stormborn, one might expect you to be of the Merfolk," she mused, her fingers tightening around her trident.

Calypso moved gracefully, the rhythm of the waves pulsing through her veins, keeping a cautious distance from him. She was acutely aware of the tension radiating from his every muscle—was it concern for himself or for the ragtag group he had assembled? Whispers of his rogue escapades had reached her, tales of mischief and violence that seemed to linger among the wolves, perhaps even catching the attention of a rogue vampire. Yet none dared to venture into the depths of her realm, for it was a perilous journey.

"You called this meeting, I presume to plead a case for yourself and your people?" she inquired, her voice smooth as the water around her. "The attacks on the Merfolk are indeed troubling. After all, reaching us is no simple feat, especially for beings who thrive among the woods, far from our corner of the realm." She glanced up at the rocky sides of the cove, where the land rose and fell in erratic patterns.

The soothing pull of the water sang to her; she rarely walked upon the land, her duties as Queen often binding her to the palace, buried in the paperwork of governance. With that, she fell silent, allowing him the space to express his thoughts, her gaze unwavering and expectant.

[Connor Stormborn]

The moment she rose from the sea, Connor knew the night had changed.

She was everything the rumors promised... regal, untouchable, and carved from the depths like a living legend. That shimmer of her form as she emerged, tail becoming legs, the trident slung across her back like it belonged there by birthright... it was all carefully measured, deliberate. Royalty dressed in salt and steel.

"Careful,"  Blaze warned, the voice of his wolf threading low through his thoughts. "She moves like a predator in calm water". "Yeah," Connor replied inwardly, "and we both know the quiet ones bite hardest."

His eyes tracked her movements as she approached, graceful but distant. No fear in her stride, just calculated tension... the kind that comes from someone used to command. He respected it, even if he didn’t trust it.

Connor smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone assumed I was born of something I wasn’t,” he said, voice low and gravel-edged. “Storms don’t choose where they break. They just do.”

He kept his stance relaxed... casual, even... but every instinct buzzed beneath his skin. Blaze paced just behind his eyes, ears pinned, tail twitching.

"She’s trying to size you up." 
"Of course she is."
"Don’t let her scent your doubt."
"There’s no doubt. Only risk."

Connor rolled his shoulders, glancing toward the water’s edge before locking eyes with her again.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Your Majesty,” he said, voice firm. “I didn’t come here to plead. I came to talk. If I wanted to grovel, I’d be at Thorian’s gates, tail tucked and knees bent.”

A sharp wind swept in off the sea, tugging at his jacket as he stepped closer... not threatening, just enough to show he wasn’t backing down.

“I don’t make a habit of asking favors from royals, land or sea. But someone’s playing a dangerous game, using the Black Talon’s name to stir blood in the water. You and I both know how easy it is to frame rogues... hell, we’re everyone’s favorite scapegoat. But you said it yourself... your realm isn’t easy to reach. Whoever’s hitting your people is organized, precise, and damn sure motivated.”

He paused, letting that sink in.

“My pack didn’t do this. But we’re the ones catching the heat for it. And if someone’s trying to ignite a war between us, we’d be fools to let it happen without asking why.”

Blaze growled softly within him, not at her, but at the situation. At the manipulation. At the threat coiling around them both.

"She’s listening. Doesn’t mean she believes you."
"Then I’ll give her a reason to."

Connor tilted his head slightly, tone quieter now, more dangerous. “Help me find who’s behind this, Calypso, and I’ll make damn sure they answer for every body they’ve left floating in your waters. I’m not here to make peace. I’m here to make this right. For my pack... and for yours, if you're willing to look past the surface long enough to see the truth.” He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just stood there... rogue, stormborn, unyielding... waiting to see if the Queen of the Deep would listen… or drown him where he stood.

[Calypso Seaweed]

Calypso offered a soft smile in response to his words about the inevitability of a storm’s fury. “That is only true for those who cannot wield storms,” she replied, her tone flowing like the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. “Though I do appreciate your perspective.” The unspoken tension hung in the air, palpable between them. The merfolk had long chosen to distance themselves from the affairs of the surface world, just as they remained a mystery to the land dwellers, who were equally enigmatic to her kind.

Perhaps that was why she had boldly defied her court’s wishes—to seek understanding. The green in her eyes shimmered with curiosity as he spoke firmly, revealing the language barrier that lay between them. Yet she remained a patient listener, allowing him the space to articulate his purpose for being there. Wolves were proud and strong, and seeking assistance was not in their nature; she would have to tread carefully to avoid exacerbating the already tense atmosphere.

“The answer to the question of war is simple: it’s either about resources or creating a distraction from something larger,” she continued with a calm assurance, her gaze locked on him. “But I find the more pressing question to be this: are you and yours the intended distraction, or are they seeking resources from me and mine?” Her eyes drifted toward the ocean, contemplating the vast depths her people had explored, filled with treasures and mysteries yet to be uncovered.

Shifting her posture, she removed her trident from her back and settled into the soft sands, reveling in the warm embrace of the beach beneath her toes. “No wolf has orchestrated these attacks,” she declared with a certainty that had drawn skepticism from her court. “The markings—claw marks, bite marks—are too clinical, too uniform.” She had examined each victim herself, and while others hastily pointed fingers at rogues, she discerned a pattern that had been overlooked.

In that moment, the regal facade of the queen fell away, revealing a girl on the beach engaged in earnest conversation. “It’s why I defied my court to come to the surface. Nothing below adds up, and I refuse to accept the answers blindly offered to us.” Her fingers traced patterns in the warm sand, the brewing storm in the distance contrasting with her calm demeanor. “My people are often too ready to accept the easy answers and move on,” she sighed, shaking her head as her flowing locks cascaded over her shoulders.

“I refuse to act rashly or harshly in a way that could lead us into war. I am here with you to uncover the truth behind these attacks and, more importantly, to understand why they occurred.” For a fleeting heartbeat, her gaze held the vulnerability of a frightened girl before it slipped back into her regal composure. “The merfolk who have been targeted held jobs on land,” she revealed, convinced that this fact made them more susceptible to attack. “They ventured far from the safety of the ocean. Did you know this about them?”