The Triton - Atlas

“I don’t know why you’re so interested in that,” Atlas says dryly. “They’re just shells.” He doesn’t mention the fact that he spent almost five hours yesterday looking for them. He’s the second prince of Atlantis, he can do whatever he wants. It’s not like he picked out seashells in your favorite color for you. He’s sitting with you in a secluded spot on the beach. Watching you flutter around, typical fairy stuff. At least, he thinks it’s typical. He only knows other merfolk.