Nightmares

[Thalia]

Nimeda nodded blithely to the question of whether or not she was okay, as though it was not really of concern, and concentrated instead on how to clarify what she struggled to explain. She knew what she offered as a feeling, as something unnameable, something that just was. As such she had assumed he would understand what she meant. It had always been that way, hadn't it? Or maybe she had never made a habit of asking, just of stealing. Though her intentions had always been good, she was... sure?

"The things that make pain."
She regarded the gouges in his chest as she spoke, thinking again of their permanency. "The things that make sorrow. It chases you, yes? And I would guard you from it. Set a new path?"
She shrugged a little, as though the words she spoke were a little beyond reach even for her. "Make things better."
She tapped her own forehead with a finger, then eased herself from a cautious crouch to sit comfortably cross-legged beside him. Did that explain? She wasn't sure, but she did know that regardless of her methods, she did mean to help him.

"Who am I?"
She took a moment to try and glue the many disparate pieces of who'd she'd been together, but didn't find much taste for the task; chasing a different set of memories on the heels of other thoughts was too difficult. In the end she settled for Jon's gift. Names were ephemeral anyway, and she was in any case composed of many. "I'm called Nimeda now,"
she told him. There had been a purpose to that, but she didn't remember it any longer, just that she was fond of the name.

Whether she had explained her intentions clearly or not, she didn't appear to require an answer. Completely unselfconsciously, and apparently having lost her wariness, she leaned in to brush a little at the tears on his cheek like he were an old and dear friend, not someone she had just stumbled upon. "What was his name?"