She Was Never Considered A "good Person". Not In Her Time Above The Surface. From Simple Vandalism To

She was never considered a "good person". Not in her time above the surface. From simple vandalism to murder, she'd had quite a few run-ins with the law, and despite the constant target on her, she had never entertained the idea that she might be arrested. Much less that the prison would be somewhere near the sea, and without sufficient staff. The authorities must have been begging the convicts to escape, she'd told herself.

Escape was easy. She ran from the prison as she had run from the rest of her problems. It was early morning when she boarded the boat, and not quite noon when her failure to respond to calls was passed on to superiors. None worried, though. It was a difficult task to get anywhere when one was alone in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; she would either come crawling back or die with only the songs of the ocean creatures to lull her into whatever afterlife would take her.

A stubborn thing, she did not return, and her name was gradually forgotten. No gravestone placed nor family to care to remember her, her memory was wiped from all lands.

Under the sea, however, life - or is it death? - goes on.

Her boat, destroyed by the horrid waves, lay in pieces on the seafloor, a new home for creatures great and small. Little sunlight ever dared to reach it, for the beings of light that would jump around atop waves and cause the ocean to sparkle would often become food for the cruel gods that lay below if they strayed too far.

Such gods presented themselves as monsters and half-humans, and it was into their care she fell when she made one last gasp - or it may have been a gurgle, but one cannot hear such sounds under the sea - and lost her life. No one had bothered to remember her, so she would never remember them. It was not her choice, of course, such things as will in the afterlife are not given to the dead - they are at the mercy of whatever gods they believed in.

Her eyes were not the same when she awoke from a slumber she could not remember falling into. She had no recollection of how they were previously, but they did not fit her, she quickly decided. Her arms too, felt wrong. They had spikes, and fairly sharp ones, as the sleeves that were covering them had been ripped where point met cloth. She, seeing no use for the damaged clothing, tore them off without effort. Her hands were clawed, and could likely do a fair bit of damage, she mused.

Lifting her head to avoid picking at her sorry state any longer, she noticed a large heap laying on a star-shaped mosaic just a few metres before her, with few legs and a human face that was attached to a scaled neck far longer than hers would ever be.

"Come here, child," The heap gurgled, beckoning her over with a tail she hadn't noticed.

Seeing as she had no other options nor idea of what she was experiencing, she took a few steps forward, and, once she had touched the mosaic, the rest of the sea seemed to fall away. It was replaced with a grand court, filled with idle chatter and quiet music that seemed to come from from every corner of the court. She observed creatures that had similar spikes to her going about giving and taking to and from others in a transactional manner, and barely noticed the the heap slithering off until she was alone.

Gathering her thoughts and courage, she brushed herself off - for her clothes were not wet, despite having been surrounded by water moments ago - and stumbled forward into a whole new sea. This sea, however, was one of welcoming people and trinkets she knew how to use but not what to call.

And so, the criminal started the second chapter of her existence. One of fortune and kindness and all the good things one would want in their life.

And if she sometimes noticed her comrades go missing or realised that those around her were gradually turning into the sort of creatures she saw during her time in the sea, then it was nobody's business but her own.

When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in Hades, and so on. You have just died in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

You run a secret, hidden café frequented by mythical beings. One day, a human somehow finds their way to the café. They have not noticed they are the only human, nor have the other patrons noticed them. Yet.

I genuinely feel like I’m going insane sometimes

Being a magical girl is an extremely dangerous and short lived calling. Due to your horrific injuries on the job, you’re retired. You’re trying to teach the next generation of magical girls, but feel they don’t trust you due to your physical disability.

Only offspring of Bhelnesse. Spawned long ago when Earth's ocean was still ruled by aquatic arthropods. It is an elusive and mysterious beast that speeds through water and air alike. Holder of many wisdoms. Some occultists go on long pilgrimages to find it and witness it.

phrasing of this is taking me out