Noctivagant

[Thalia]

Noctua churned for a moment like storm-tossed waves before a familiar calm returned to his person. His gaze investigated Mara but any concern Nimeda had harboured for conflict already fled when his manner eased, so she only sat and watched his scrutiny. To her surprise and delight he did not immediately force himself awake just to escape their company. She was afraid he still might, but perhaps curiosity was a great enough lure. She could hope.

“This is how Noctua does forgiveness,” she assured the girl in her arms, amused. Though she really wasn’t sure what his forgiveness might actually feel like. It was just that she understood the sharp weapons he wielded for words were not always meant to wound. They were simply the severe defence to something softer within – something he did not even like Nimeda to see. Her fingers smoothed the inky tresses at Mara’s temple, and she kissed the top of her head, but she could not tell if she was really listening. Probably not, for the air around her did not shimmer with the enactment of her will. No poisonous spiders marched upon Nimeda’s thigh. Stinking rot did not ooze from the flowers wound at her crown. Even Mara herself did not feel like a dead thing, or a bony thing, or a squelchy thing. She just felt like a blood and breath girl, warm and scared.

“It exists,” she laughed, despite the sharp edge of Noctua’s gaze commanding her to silence. Nimeda might not wish to test his prickly nature and risk hastening his disappearance, but that fear did not appear to dampen her normal manner. He might as well call any of them imaginary. “When you escaped the vision that chased you from your home, you did not fear drowning. It was to the river you escaped,” she added. Of course she knew what had changed, but she did not know if he did. He blamed Mara for her proclivities, but they were not random cruelties. Her eyes were wide above the girl’s buried head, as guileless as they had ever been, and she was glad for Mara’s presence then. If Noctua’s patience snapped. If she probed too deep. Well, at least she would not be left entirely alone. The comfort worked both ways.

She was not sure if the question was for her or the girl in her arms, but Mara was still trembling and unlikely to answer. Even the Vanagandyr chased Mara’s creatures with his lip curled when first he beheld them, but that was something of nature and tooth-and-claw instinct. The Watcher sought to control, to chain, to enact will. Nimeda was as solicitous as water slipped through cupped palms, tricky to capture, and she was not offended by the hubris of those who claimed ownership of the unclaimable. But in the past she had always had protections Mara lacked, for few would risk her grandmother’s ancient eye – not even Mara’s father. And the Watcher was a jailor at his behest. Or had been, once. For a moment confusion pressed upon Nimeda’s brow. It lasted but a second before she set it aside.

“I’ve felt his Watching before, but I do not think I have seen this form. Even at my loneliest he has never appeared to me.” She shrugged a little, not sure how deep she wanted to wade in memories that seemed more eager to pop to the surface these days. “I think he has not changed through all the ages though.” She rolled her eyes a little, and laughed, searching the sky for a moment, but she did not think he was still listening. It did not matter if he was. “Pompous.”