Wow, that sunset feels like a molten halo that could birth a character made of liquid light—each shade a memory it drips into the tide, and the pier becomes a hallway where those memories walk back to the sea. Imagine a ghostly sailor who rides the waves of color, his compass pointing to forgotten dreams in the sky.

For him, think midnight navy for the coat—deep like the night before the sun wakes up—then a splash of cobalt and indigo that shift as the tide swells. His hat could glow in teal and a touch of amber, like a lighthouse in a storm, and the compass needle itself could be made of liquid mercury that changes hue with every forgotten memory it catches. The sea‑foam green of his jacket cuffs and the soft blush of sunrise on his cloak would make him look like he’s stitched together from sunrise and moonlight. Sound good?