Work Text:
When Dave crashes his submarine, he doesn’t hope for rescue. His radio is broken, no mayday calls for him.
He’s not alone. A sea-angel, with snowy skin and billowing curls, a beautiful face but sad eyes, has come to guide him to the beyond.
The water rises oh so slowly, their frantic efforts to break the glass futile. Sobbing, he reaches out to grasp his angel’s hand instead, the small comfort cruelly blocked by the glass.
And when he loses his battle, lungs painfully full of seawater, and everything fading to black, Dave fancies he can see his angel crying.