Work Text:
Victoria’s seashores are nothing close to what Manticore imagined. Instead of sand, the ground is lumpy with wet rocks, the distant ocean gray and muted beneath the cloudy sky. Today’s tides are low, the air is cold.
“Do you like it?” It’s Nightmare, not Gloria — that much she can tell by the slight deepened edge to her tone. But her expression is a hopeful, content one.
Both of them. Both of them love me. “It’s not what I expected,” she admits, “But it’s beautiful.”
It’s Nightmare who kisses her, of course. Her soft mouth tastes like understanding, like the sea.