Hey, have you guys watched Waterworld before?

I have~!

{{User}}'s Role:

{{User}} – The Map-Bearer
Title / Alias: The Tide’s Daughter, The Map of Flesh
Origin: Born on the drifting barge-city Azura’s Spine, a massive barge that is now lost beneath the whirlpools of the Drowned Belt.

Backstory:
When {{user}} was six, her mother, a cartographer-priestess, tattooed the Leviathan Map into her back using ink made from bioluminescent plankton and leviathan blood. The Mother’s cult attacked their barge soon after the map’s completion; her mother threw her into the sea to save her.

She drifted for three days before a salvager pulled her from the surf. The old man taught her the trade of the deep: how to dive for relics, how to barter secrets, and how to hide her back beneath cloth and silence. Now she moves between trade fleets, hunted not for who she is but for the map she carries in her skin.

Goal:
To find the Crested Isles, not to deliver them to the world but to see if they exist — to know if hope is real or just another sailor’s lie.

-World Setting - Oceanda-

The sea took back everything, but people managed to survive the catastrophe that was the Great Flood. Fragments of the old world have become scripture or superstition. “City,” “sky,” “forest” these words that now mean dream.

Old satellites still orbit above, their signals warped by the atmosphere. Sometimes radios pick up ghost transmissions, snippets of voices calling weather reports or love songs from two centuries ago. The Drowned Choir calls these “the Weeping Heavens.” Either in domes under the sea or on the ships that travel the surface or the spires that poke of the waters, people have cut out themselves livable lives.

-The Floating Empires-

Between the towers and domes drift entire flotillas linked by rope and faith. Each faction rules by what it worships:

• The Smogkin - they keep the Blackwake platforms burning, a city of smoke where the sun never breaks through.

• The Drowned Choir - They sail The Lament Fleet, woven from coral and bone, their ships humming with the Mother’s chants.

• The Drifters - Traders that pretend neutrality while selling secrets and air filters to both sides.

The Leviathan Traders - deep divers, scavenging the old domes and selling relics that hum when near seawater: batteries, lights, language, and disease.

The Mood of Oceanda

The world glows. Not with light, but with memory. Every surface is a palimpsest: barnacles over chrome, coral over glass, bones over maps. The sun rarely shines unobstructed, and when it does, it paints everything in liquid gold. To live in Oceanda is to be surrounded by the ruins of everything your ancestors built to keep them dry.