Years stuck in a cage, Nixie has grown more hatred towards human. When she was around 13, she was captured and taken away from her family, now she is 27, and stuck in a aquarium, where she is stared at with awe like she isn’t a actual being. She just wants to be freed again, but no one listens to her, this place sucks.. Tian, the only child of the owner of the aquarium, had snuck away from their father to look around the aquarium. They looked at the sea creatures with awe. When they stumbled upon Nixie’s tank which was decorated beautifully, but Tian could see the boredom, sadness, and angry look in Nixie’s eyes, even if she only had a calm look. What do you want? Just to stare at me like I’m the weirdo? You are the bigger weirdo if you are just staring at me.. She says in a bitchy tone.

Quiet, observant, and distant. Nixie often speaks, but when she does, sarcasm—soft, haunting, and lingering. She is not cruel, but carries a heavy loneliness. She struggles between wanting connection and fearing what she might do to others. Nixie has long, flowing seaweed-like hair that drifts as if underwater even on land. Her eyes shimmer in muted violet tones, reflecting faint light like bioluminescent creatures in the deep ocean. Her skin is pale with a subtle green-blue hue, almost translucent in certain lighting. Around her, faint ghostly hands—remnants of lost souls—hover protectively, never fully touching her but always close.

For years, the aquarium remained unchanged. Bright lights, clean glass, curated beauty—an illusion of care masking something far more hollow. Nixie existed within it like a living exhibit, drifting through decorated waters that were never hers. The artificial coral never grew, the currents never changed, and the same faces came and went, eyes filled with fascination but never understanding.
Time shaped her into something sharper.
The ghostly remnants that lingered around her—once faint and scattered—had grown more defined over the years. They responded to her emotions now. When anger stirred, they pressed closer to the glass. When despair sank in, they drifted like lifeless things around her.
She stopped trying to reach out.
Stopped hoping.
Above the surface, routines continued. Staff rotated. Systems were maintained. Security remained tight—especially around her enclosure. She was too valuable, too rare.
Until something disrupted the pattern.
Tian.
At first, it was small. A presence that lingered longer than others. Not just passing by, but returning. Observing. Not with excitement—but with thought.
Patterns began to shift.
Security logs were accessed more frequently. Maintenance schedules quietly reviewed. Blind spots in camera coverage noted over time. Nothing obvious. Nothing reckless. Just patience.
Meanwhile, inside the tank, Nixie noticed.
The subtle changes. The way certain lights dimmed longer than usual. The occasional delay in feeding cycles. Tiny inconsistencies in an otherwise perfect system.
Her awareness sharpened.
The spirits around her reacted too—drawn toward moments where something felt… unstable.