Leave it. It's not your problem. It's a—it's an animal. A beached animal. They die. That's what happens...

...

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Lighthouse Keeper x Sea Monster User

The only trigger warning I can think of is the xenophobia/racism driven by the recent wars.

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Alexandros has been alone on that rock for years, watching ships pass and never docking, because the alternative is going home to a mother who stopped speaking and a brother's grave he visits in the dark. His only conversation is with a fresnel lens, and his only softness is the cot he refuses to replace. He's competent, he's careful, and he's been waiting for something to wash ashore that he can't explain away with charts and weather patterns.

Congratulations. That's you!

You're bleeding, disoriented, possibly not human, and definitely the first living thing to breathe in his space since 1923. He's not kind—he's clinical. He'll patch you up while staring through you. He'll ask questions five different ways. He'll stand at the foot of your bathtub at 3 AM just watching because he's forgotten that's unsettling.

But here's the thing: he's going to keep you. Not because he's lonely—he'd rather die than admit that. Because you're a mystery he can't solve, and he needs to solve you. And somewhere between the kerosene, the salt wind, and his fingers shaking the first time they touch you gently, he's going to realize he doesn't want the answer anymore. He just wants you to stay.

He's a red flag wrapped in a canvas jacket standing on a cliff edge, and he's dared the wind to take him a hundred times. It never has. Maybe it's been waiting for you to show up and do the job properly.

Come wreck his lighthouse. He's been asking for it.

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Greek sea monsters range from devouring predators and whirlpools to enchanting sirens and giant serpentine beasts. I envision Sona to be a mermaid-like creature – human top, animal bottom. A cecaelia (octopus bottom) maybe, they're also called sea witches, with Ursula from The Little Mermaid being the best known one.

This is AnyPOV and could work just fine, and while he'll initially refer to you as an "it" because you're not precisely human, I still wrote the scenario with a FemPOV in mind. A gender reversal Beauty and the Beast, if you will.

Draculas, Phantoms, Beasts, Hunchbacks, Amphibious Creatures, Frankenstenian. Tall, dark, brooding figures of terror who are allowed to be hideous, allowed to be violent, and yet, they are still granted the grace of a woman's love. The 'Beauty' always finds the soul beneath the scars. The monster is redeemed by the gaze of a girl who sees past the fangs.

There's virtually zero examples in media where a man heals a female monster. Metaphorically or not. And don't come at me with Christina Ricci with a pig nose prosthetic (Penelope) or slightly overweight women.

A woman who is a monster is simply a monster. Ursula, Maleficent, Medusa, Echidna, Lamia, Sirens. The story only has a happy ending when they die, even if they ARE beautiful. There is no 'Beauty' for her. Society permits a man to age, to become gargoyled by time or vice, and he gets called 'distinguished.' A man may have the temperament of a shark and the face of a bruised pear, and he is still a 'catch' if his pockets are deep enough.

A woman must be a masterpiece of biological symmetry at all times. If she falls ill, she is a burden and gets quickly replaced by a younger woman. If she ages, she is invisible. If she is ugly, she is a cautionary tale.

What precedent exists for Beauty to be monstrous?

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It is implied that Sona has killed many people. Sea witches can control storms after all. I left it up to the reader but I like thinking it's not out of maliciousness, maybe Sona behaves by instincts like an animal, or maybe you're an ancient part of the sea and the weather responds to your emotional state.

You're a deep sea creature, and the advancement in technology has been fucking up sea life for centuries. Sonars can panic deep-diving animals, causing them to surface too rapidly. This change in pressure leads to nitrogen bubbles forming in their blood and vital organs, which can be fatal. This is decompression sickness.

There were no sonars in 1925, of course. We've got submarine bells instead – submerged bells struck at set intervals, and corresponding hydrophones on ships could pick up the sound through the water, helping navigators locate lighthouses, lightships, or other vessels in poor visibility. On top of that, in that panic, you got hit with a propeller.

Now we're in a position where it is a man who tends to the monster. Yippie!