#driftawcy

Undyne likes the ocean. It's big, first of all, bigger than any body of water she ever could have conceived of underground. It's water as big as the sky (and she's still not over the sky).

And on top of that, there's life to it. Not just the singular flow of rivers and waterfalls, but a pulsing movement, responding to the moon and pushing her about. It's fun to fight against, and it's nice to let it carry her along sometimes, too.

Deeper under, though, the current is lighter, and she can really see how far out it stretches. The fish down here swim away from her whenever she gets near, which is understandable, but she would like to meet them still. But today, following them brings her down to... a... person? Standing at the bottom of the ocean? That’s a new one.

Steven had a way of making sure work never felt like work. School work was fun, since Steven loved learning, gem work had its own challenges with huge rewards, and then there was the work he did for money. Working at the café seemed to top it all, because cute girls came by! Steven peered around from behind the pastry display and gasped. That girl was back again, for the third time that week! Steven eagerly took her order, not bothering to pretend he didn’t remember her usual order or how to spell her name on the cup.

The face that stared back at her in the mirror was not her own. It was familiar, of course, but...

She reached up to touch at the dark lines streaking down the side of her cheeks tracing them all the way down the side of her face. Tear marks. So deep that Pearl could swear her finger would come off wet, but it wasn’t.

Leaving the sparse bathroom, she found herself wandering a bedroom that was just as empty, and she found a pain jabbing into her core. It was a room that didn’t need Spinel, that didn’t have Spinel and if there was no Spinel, there would be no change, and it hurt to even think about it.

Determined, Pearl walked swung open the door and stepped right into her own body, limbs tangling as she goes sprawling into the corridor.

“Ha. I can relate.”