12-22-2021, 11:58 PM
Something in Sierra’s inclusion made her beam, both surprised and delighted she was spoken to at all. It reminded her of how Nox had tugged her by the hand the night at the club, when she’d lost her shoes; that little zip of thrill, to be claimed by someone. Such an insignificant connection, but one that felt electric in her chest. Meanwhile Tristan began explorations on his own at the waterline. Thalia lingered by Sierra a little longer, her expression softened to one of mild amusement. “I’ll bring him back,” she said, with no ounce of uncertainty for what they might even find below. He acted like he was the only one who could do the protecting.
She didn’t begrudge his strategic approach, though it was a curious contrast to her own impulsiveness. Much as she’d known which part of the river to retrieve the burn box, with no clear idea beyond a hasty sketch as to why she possessed the knowledge, she had some vague notion of where they should be looking even though this time she had even less tangible evidence for it. Possibly he thought she was quite mad, but he did not argue either… though he was very quiet. Aside from the low grumbling sounds he made in his throat at least, just in case she could not read his displeasure. Thalia saw no reason to disturb his isolationist mood though. She would weather his disapproval just as he weathered her determination, and while she might have liked for lighter company, she supposed he was under no obligation to actually enjoy what they were doing.
The water chilled quickly to the bone, parting like the sharp kiss of a blade when she swam to join him. A freezing purity, enthralling even as it began quite quickly to vise a grip around her chest. She tread water while he explored below them, awash with eagerness tempered to patience since she’d pledged herself to the compromise of allowing him to go first. While she waited her gaze found the looming rock above, much as it had the previous night, and it pulled at her so strangely in the daylight. She remembered, then, pressing her hand against its surface like she’d expected some vibration of life. The memory snagged her swiftly now, on a too-fast speeding current. Her hair spread like ink as she bobbed up and down, frowning, trying to parse sense from why, but it was an epiphany she still hadn’t captured when Tristan returned.
She experienced a slightly disconcerting sense of deja vu watching the water roll down the planes of his face, but the expression he wore now was like night to day from what she had picked out on the page. That alone told her everything she needed to know. He must already realise she was going to insist on seeing for herself, though. Thalia watched him with wide eyes, but said nothing. She let herself sink a little, and there was the hint of an impish smile where her lips fell beneath the cold water. She was already feeling a little sluggishly numb, but she was agile enough to twist herself past him, a hint of playful (she had promised she could swim), and then dove herself down.
It was more strenuous than it had been last night, but adrenaline made up for some deficit. Inside the crevice Tristan had discovered in the rock was revealed access to a hollow space. On the other side her face broke the surface with a gasp, lungs burning hard, dizziness bruising the edges of her vision because, okay, perhaps this had not been wise to attempt with a head injury. It was suddenly colder too, if that were even possible, and the darkness had an oozing quality, like it was itself alive. Even so, there was nothing here. Hope sank like a stone, and certainty with it, as she twisted around in the water looking for something. Anything.
Burying her dismay, and not ready to give up, she reached for a lip of jutting rock to pull herself up, but fumbled numbly until Tristan helped her. If it had been difficult to breathe in the water, now her skin burned like hot knives sliced it from bone. She whimpered a moment, her limbs huddled where she sat. “If you say I told you so, I might combust,” she said, barely able to push the laugh from her chest without it being painful. A little suffering didn’t dampen her humour, though she was glad she could not see his expression now. They still had to swim back, and disappointment hollowed her out. She was not actually sure she had the strength so quickly to muster for the effort.
Plagued by the defeat, instead Thalia half closed her eyes, aware and uncaring that she shouldn’t. It wasn’t just the dejection of being wrong; it was the fear of what being wrong meant.
When she blinked again she could barely see anything beyond the reflective shine of Tristan’s eyes. It was so oppressively dark. Around them it was all vague rocky outlines and the inky shine of water below, and she wasn’t even sure where the light to see that much was coming from. But it wasn’t that which was rattling the heart in her chest and drawing her knees up to her chest. Nor was it how cramped the space was. She brushed her palms over her face, where the water stung her eyes. Her hands were beginning to shake.
Like everything she was was just slipping through numb fingers.
If he spoke to her at all by then, she wasn’t aware of it. “No… I don’t–” She wasn’t sure how she managed to pull herself up to stand, just that the panic pushed her to move. The rocks were slippery underfoot, and the last thing she wanted was to plunge back into the water. She was breathing hard. Put a hand out to steady herself against the rocky wall. And felt it, like a draw to the soul that only made her panic more. It siphoned the power inside her, or she summoned it. Tendrils of the gift wove on a reflex she didn’t know she possessed, and all she could see was the doctor’s face, the blood dripping from his nose, and how she’d promised Sierra she would keep Tristan safe.
You must not do that, Patricus’s warning echoed. But god she did not mean to.
She yelled in alarm, reached out like she was falling, and found hold of something before everything went black. Shadows fell velvety and thick, rippling her skin with sickening movement.
And then the quality of the air changed. Startled to feel ground steady beneath her feet once more, Thalia stepped back, and natural light bloomed with the motion. She barely caught her balance. There was blood on her hands. She saw that first, probably because they were still trembling violently, though now only because she was wet and frozen through. Well, mostly because of that. The smooth black walls of a hollowed out room barely registered, not yet at least, because it was Tristan she was looking for as her eyes acclimatised, guilt ridden and afraid.
“Are you okay? I didn’t do anything to hurt you?”
She didn’t begrudge his strategic approach, though it was a curious contrast to her own impulsiveness. Much as she’d known which part of the river to retrieve the burn box, with no clear idea beyond a hasty sketch as to why she possessed the knowledge, she had some vague notion of where they should be looking even though this time she had even less tangible evidence for it. Possibly he thought she was quite mad, but he did not argue either… though he was very quiet. Aside from the low grumbling sounds he made in his throat at least, just in case she could not read his displeasure. Thalia saw no reason to disturb his isolationist mood though. She would weather his disapproval just as he weathered her determination, and while she might have liked for lighter company, she supposed he was under no obligation to actually enjoy what they were doing.
The water chilled quickly to the bone, parting like the sharp kiss of a blade when she swam to join him. A freezing purity, enthralling even as it began quite quickly to vise a grip around her chest. She tread water while he explored below them, awash with eagerness tempered to patience since she’d pledged herself to the compromise of allowing him to go first. While she waited her gaze found the looming rock above, much as it had the previous night, and it pulled at her so strangely in the daylight. She remembered, then, pressing her hand against its surface like she’d expected some vibration of life. The memory snagged her swiftly now, on a too-fast speeding current. Her hair spread like ink as she bobbed up and down, frowning, trying to parse sense from why, but it was an epiphany she still hadn’t captured when Tristan returned.
She experienced a slightly disconcerting sense of deja vu watching the water roll down the planes of his face, but the expression he wore now was like night to day from what she had picked out on the page. That alone told her everything she needed to know. He must already realise she was going to insist on seeing for herself, though. Thalia watched him with wide eyes, but said nothing. She let herself sink a little, and there was the hint of an impish smile where her lips fell beneath the cold water. She was already feeling a little sluggishly numb, but she was agile enough to twist herself past him, a hint of playful (she had promised she could swim), and then dove herself down.
It was more strenuous than it had been last night, but adrenaline made up for some deficit. Inside the crevice Tristan had discovered in the rock was revealed access to a hollow space. On the other side her face broke the surface with a gasp, lungs burning hard, dizziness bruising the edges of her vision because, okay, perhaps this had not been wise to attempt with a head injury. It was suddenly colder too, if that were even possible, and the darkness had an oozing quality, like it was itself alive. Even so, there was nothing here. Hope sank like a stone, and certainty with it, as she twisted around in the water looking for something. Anything.
Burying her dismay, and not ready to give up, she reached for a lip of jutting rock to pull herself up, but fumbled numbly until Tristan helped her. If it had been difficult to breathe in the water, now her skin burned like hot knives sliced it from bone. She whimpered a moment, her limbs huddled where she sat. “If you say I told you so, I might combust,” she said, barely able to push the laugh from her chest without it being painful. A little suffering didn’t dampen her humour, though she was glad she could not see his expression now. They still had to swim back, and disappointment hollowed her out. She was not actually sure she had the strength so quickly to muster for the effort.
Plagued by the defeat, instead Thalia half closed her eyes, aware and uncaring that she shouldn’t. It wasn’t just the dejection of being wrong; it was the fear of what being wrong meant.
When she blinked again she could barely see anything beyond the reflective shine of Tristan’s eyes. It was so oppressively dark. Around them it was all vague rocky outlines and the inky shine of water below, and she wasn’t even sure where the light to see that much was coming from. But it wasn’t that which was rattling the heart in her chest and drawing her knees up to her chest. Nor was it how cramped the space was. She brushed her palms over her face, where the water stung her eyes. Her hands were beginning to shake.
Like everything she was was just slipping through numb fingers.
If he spoke to her at all by then, she wasn’t aware of it. “No… I don’t–” She wasn’t sure how she managed to pull herself up to stand, just that the panic pushed her to move. The rocks were slippery underfoot, and the last thing she wanted was to plunge back into the water. She was breathing hard. Put a hand out to steady herself against the rocky wall. And felt it, like a draw to the soul that only made her panic more. It siphoned the power inside her, or she summoned it. Tendrils of the gift wove on a reflex she didn’t know she possessed, and all she could see was the doctor’s face, the blood dripping from his nose, and how she’d promised Sierra she would keep Tristan safe.
You must not do that, Patricus’s warning echoed. But god she did not mean to.
She yelled in alarm, reached out like she was falling, and found hold of something before everything went black. Shadows fell velvety and thick, rippling her skin with sickening movement.
And then the quality of the air changed. Startled to feel ground steady beneath her feet once more, Thalia stepped back, and natural light bloomed with the motion. She barely caught her balance. There was blood on her hands. She saw that first, probably because they were still trembling violently, though now only because she was wet and frozen through. Well, mostly because of that. The smooth black walls of a hollowed out room barely registered, not yet at least, because it was Tristan she was looking for as her eyes acclimatised, guilt ridden and afraid.
“Are you okay? I didn’t do anything to hurt you?”
![[Image: thal-banner-scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/thal-banner-scaled.jpg)