08-20-2020, 09:24 PM
Nimeda did not pull herself out of the waters, only folded her arms upon one of the rocks to observe his exploration of the memories. A palm reached to cup her chin, and a small smile lingered for the unguarded expression with which he beheld the drifting spectres. Noctua himself flickered into a plethora of strange raiment, which she absorbed with abundant curiosity for the stolen glimpse that it was into secrets he did not mean to share.
His words and the way he said them made her glow with warmth for what she presumed he meant -- and certainly what she chose to understand in the sentiment. It touched somewhere deep and curled up there, content. Prickly and irascible as he often chose to be, sometimes he was so utterly pure in his convictions. But though she held onto that feeling tenderly, it was ringed with an inevitable sadness. For Nimeda did not wake, and she did not leave, and he reminded her that one day he would.
She pushed back from the rock and into the water’s open arms. It flowed cool over her shoulders and kissed the tip of her chin in welcome. Noctua had called this place a sanctuary before, and she wanted to explain more of what it meant and what he saw, but though the undeniable peace of it swelled her with the sense of remembering, it was a life long lost and beyond her ability to describe.
“You did not have to ask,” she said. “I wanted to show you. But it is not my home any longer, Noctua. I do not have one of those.” She drifted as he returned to the question of her Other, and watched him for a long moment. Eventually she pushed under the surface to swim for the bank where he stood, and this time pulled herself out to sit amongst the rocks. Soggy tendrils of hair made patterns down her arms, slick as seaweed. “Are you sure she was the uncomfortable one?” she asked. “We do not share memories, but it is the only thing we do not share. What happened when you found her?”
His words and the way he said them made her glow with warmth for what she presumed he meant -- and certainly what she chose to understand in the sentiment. It touched somewhere deep and curled up there, content. Prickly and irascible as he often chose to be, sometimes he was so utterly pure in his convictions. But though she held onto that feeling tenderly, it was ringed with an inevitable sadness. For Nimeda did not wake, and she did not leave, and he reminded her that one day he would.
She pushed back from the rock and into the water’s open arms. It flowed cool over her shoulders and kissed the tip of her chin in welcome. Noctua had called this place a sanctuary before, and she wanted to explain more of what it meant and what he saw, but though the undeniable peace of it swelled her with the sense of remembering, it was a life long lost and beyond her ability to describe.
“You did not have to ask,” she said. “I wanted to show you. But it is not my home any longer, Noctua. I do not have one of those.” She drifted as he returned to the question of her Other, and watched him for a long moment. Eventually she pushed under the surface to swim for the bank where he stood, and this time pulled herself out to sit amongst the rocks. Soggy tendrils of hair made patterns down her arms, slick as seaweed. “Are you sure she was the uncomfortable one?” she asked. “We do not share memories, but it is the only thing we do not share. What happened when you found her?”
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