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He/him

Darting between the cracks and crevices of the deep,

Seeing only what is near,

Looking only ahead,

Unaware of light, of day,

Of the warmth and joy of sun,

Only moving,

Too familiar with the desolate wasteland below.

Poem by 74373-bees on art fight

Angler loves to spend time in deeper waters or darker environments. His eyes don't take well to the light of day or any bright lights. If he ever ventures on land, he only does so at night.

He has a string of lights wrapped around him, originally thinking it was seaweed, but afterwards found out it was a "treasure". He got into the habit of collecting trinkets from the waters. Someone's trash is another's treasure!