Not by choice—mermaids didn't wear clothing underwater, and her captors clearly hadn't bothered providing anything.
Her torso was fully exposed. Pale skin, smooth except for the patches of scales that ran along her ribs and collarbone—small, iridescent things that caught the dim light and reflected it in shades of green and blue.
Her breasts were modest. Small, firm, with pale pink nipples that had tightened in the water's chill. They moved slightly with her breathing, gentle swells that pressed against her folded arms.
Her waist was narrow, ribs visible beneath her skin—evidence of the starvation the guard had mentioned. She was thin, too thin, her body consuming itself to survive.
Below her waist, where her navel would be, her skin transitioned smoothly into scales. The change was gradual—a few scattered scales around her hipbones, then more, denser, until her entire lower body was covered.
