While not his home, there was something to be said about Zamatye Beach. In all of his travels to different sea sides, he had never witnessed one quite like this. At first when he heard tell of the unique layout of sea glass that made the beach itself, he was skeptical. How could one place have access to so much and yet so little know about it? But when he did arrive on the sparkling shore, even he was lost for words.

The glass was worn so smooth that one could walk on it without fear of being cut, which only hinted at how ancient this land truly was. How many ships had been lost at sea? Where had all of the glass come from? There wasn’t a particularly large pollution issue that he’d been able unearth, but tongues wagged in the cities. Their language was foreign to him, so when he was able to find someone that spoke his own tongue, he learned that a city was said to rise from the depths upon nightfall.

This too was something he had been skeptical of. Though it did bring about a logical reason for where all of the glass could have come from. All he had with him was the violin case on his back, though occasionally a spectral seahorse or two would flit from his dark hair. They’d stuck around for so long now that he stopped trying to shoo them away. And while they were a stark contrast to how he was as a person, they at least weren’t a nuisance. He still had no idea why such lighthearted beings liked him so much.

His eyes lifted to the sky as he sat down in a place far from people. This wasn’t his beach, but he wasn’t entirely out of his element so long as the waves continued to lap. The sun would be down in a couple of hours, at which time the city was supposed to rise. For now, he pulled his violin from his back and began to carefully oil the strings.