Work Text:
First observation: It’s so cold underwater.
Kurea wonders, absentmindedly, if she’s been cast out to sea by a strong wave. Her head hurts and everything is spinning, so it’s possible. But strangely, there’s an odd sentiment of it having been worth it, for…
A name eludes her. She wonders if she should be worried. Then she stops wondering and worrying. The memory and the thought both slip through her fingers like egg white through a strain.
Second observation: She's so tired.
There was power, true and honest and beautiful inside her mere seconds ago—it’s gone now. All that power is… was…
Something nags at Kurea to pay attention, remember, but she cannot remember and does not need to remember because she has recently stopped being just is only a patissier, all she needs to remember are steps, measurements, and payday.
Third observation: someone’s pulling her out.
Her (the bravest girl she has ever known’s) arms are strong. Her savior drags them both up and out of the cold, cold water. Kurea’s mouth and eyes are clenched shut from strain and yet if she could open them right now, she knows, in the simple way that everybody knows a law of nature, that when you drop you fall down, that she would see that her savior can would and will throw herself into the cold dark as long as it means that Kurea will live.
And Kurea would do did the same—
No time for a fourth observation. The two of them come up and out. Kurea is unceremoniously laid out on the grass. Her dazed eyes can only see dazzling purple. Something comes to the tip of her tongue.
Only a shell of it leaves. “...who are you?”
Kurea closes her eyes and when she opens them she forgets.