06-04-2014, 09:09 AM
The disorientation when she woke was tinged with memory. It flooded through her, then began to dry up like water absorbed into sand. She blinked, trying desperately to keep it all together, until the last droplet fled and she was empty. Calm replaced the panic of losing her identity. There was a translucency to her skin, like she wasn't fully real, and for a while she watched the light filter through her hand, content to do nothing more significant.
It took a while for consciousness to settle in, for her thoughts to begin whirring with a regular rhythm. It was like a faded, moth eaten tapestry with holes, but to her it was divine. The small little swells of consistency marked newness in an endless river of oblivion, and like the flow of water, her thoughts churned odd; tossed up like silt, drowning in distraction.
Little Bird, Little Bird. Jon Little Bird.
She had not seen Jon since her christening as Nimeda, not to talk to, but she had spied. It was an irresistible lure, one that took her to a few little lights in the winking abyss, but Jon's dreams were the only ones she recognised. He wasn't there tonight. It was tonight? She had little comprehension of time; it rushed both fast and slow, subject to whims beyond her knowledge. But there was something
Something
Something
Wrong.
A footstep forward, and the world flickered. The new materialisation of landscape passed unnoticed; she was driven by something other than recognition of her surroundings, and she followed without concern for her safety. Fate would guide.
Flicker, flicker, flicker.
The room was hugely grand, and she twirled round as she emerged, staring at the ceiling and windows, the archaic furniture, the extravagance. If she was surprised to see the two people in the whole of the world whom she actually knew, it didn't pierce the wondrous awe of her expression as she examined her surroundings. Her wide grey gaze absorbed it all raptly.
"Do you live here?"
Edited by Thalia, Jun 4 2014, 09:12 AM.
It took a while for consciousness to settle in, for her thoughts to begin whirring with a regular rhythm. It was like a faded, moth eaten tapestry with holes, but to her it was divine. The small little swells of consistency marked newness in an endless river of oblivion, and like the flow of water, her thoughts churned odd; tossed up like silt, drowning in distraction.
Little Bird, Little Bird. Jon Little Bird.
She had not seen Jon since her christening as Nimeda, not to talk to, but she had spied. It was an irresistible lure, one that took her to a few little lights in the winking abyss, but Jon's dreams were the only ones she recognised. He wasn't there tonight. It was tonight? She had little comprehension of time; it rushed both fast and slow, subject to whims beyond her knowledge. But there was something
Something
Something
Wrong.
A footstep forward, and the world flickered. The new materialisation of landscape passed unnoticed; she was driven by something other than recognition of her surroundings, and she followed without concern for her safety. Fate would guide.
Flicker, flicker, flicker.
The room was hugely grand, and she twirled round as she emerged, staring at the ceiling and windows, the archaic furniture, the extravagance. If she was surprised to see the two people in the whole of the world whom she actually knew, it didn't pierce the wondrous awe of her expression as she examined her surroundings. Her wide grey gaze absorbed it all raptly.
"Do you live here?"
Edited by Thalia, Jun 4 2014, 09:12 AM.
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