Work Text:
The sands shift by the stir of the seas, waning and waxing waves wash the footsteps away. Yet a woman stood there, the waters splash her ankles, and the moonlight cascades down her back in beautiful silver white locks. The night is beautiful, Mito thinks, and serene.
"Who are you?" Mito whispers and the woman turns to her. If she was the moon, Mito would think it so. The moon has red lips stark on pale skin, the sight of it was the first to steal away Mito's breath. Her delicate round eyebrows raise up.
"A dream," the moon answers.