Welcome to the Brassy Page

She was born in a summer of abundance —
when Oshún feasted on the juiciest spoils of the land.
Not in thunder or vengeance,
but with juice on her lips and laughter in her lungs.

Khalora never cared to shimmer or sing like the others.
She only craved one thing — lush, mouthwatering sweetness.
Her hunger became clear the day she stole a mango meant for Yamaya.
From that first bite, she knew:
this was what she’d been thirsting her whole life for.

When other merfolk tasted fruit she had bitten,
they went mad trying to bring her more.
That’s when she realized her power
wasn’t in shimmer or song —
it was in temptation.

One day, swimming through the canals near Venice,
she came upon a red door that pulled at her spirit.
Beside it sat a sun-warmed picnic table,
crumbs scattered, fruit half-bitten and gleaming in the light.
She couldn’t resist the pineapple — but left behind a single slice,
ripened with her hunger and silent longing.

The next day, it was gone.
In its place stood a hooman, arms full of guava, citrus, and golden apples.
When Khalora revealed herself, radiant and still,
they laid the offerings at her fins.
She never left that spot again.

Those who bring her sweetness are never the same —
for in return, she gifts them gold and gems from the Oshún Dynasea,
always just enough to help them thrive and provide.
Their lives are quietly transformed —
granted beauty, health, and long life
from the fruit she has bitten and ripened by her hunger.

Now she waits where grape vines sip from canal-fed water.
Not for gold. Not for praise.
Just fruit — the richer, the rarer, the better.

To meet her is to taste magic.
To return is to want more.

The First to Rise and Shine.
A Lighthouse for the Divin. 

  Long before the ocean echoed with names like ours,

before tails shimmered in every hue we dared to dream —there was Nayanja.

She rose from the deep not to be seen,

but because she couldn’t stay hidden any longer.

Even she didn’t know her name at first.

She carried her magic in silence — her tail dark,

her shimmer dimmed — until one fateful day off the coast of New Orleans.

A human spirit guide saw her gliding at the edge of the waters, beneath the bayou light.

He called her forth with no fear

and whispered a truth she had never heard:

“You have always been more.”

And he gave her a name that would ripple through generations of the Oshún Dynasea:

Nayanja.

The moment he spoke it, her tail transformed —

deep shadow blooming into seafoam green and blush pink light,

like dawn breaking beneath the waves.

She rose from the water,

transformed before his eyes.

And with her rising,

something stirred in the deep.

Because her shimmer made us

remember ourselves.

The lost ones.The unsure.The hidden.The denied.

We saw her —and we swam toward her light.

She became the beacon.

A lighthouse beneath the sea.

A current that awakened everything it touched.

Her becoming breathed life into those

who didn’t yet know what they were.

She made it safe to shine.

And now, when we rise in shimmer and story,

when we dare to take up space in oceans that once denied us —

we carry her fight, her shimmer, her light.

Because before the sea knew how to hold us,

Nayanja rose.

And that changed everything.