Tiberinus

[Thalia]

Noctua pulled away like the concern was unnecessary, but it did not lighten its burden from her shoulders. The callous bark of his laughter at least assured her he was feeling himself, though it also felt like deflection. Nimeda’s thoughts churned in an habitually slow way, and though she was sensitive to currents of need spun out in the dream, her instincts were also so deeply intuitive she did not always recognise them as such. She watched him wade towards the shoreline for a while before she finally followed, wondering who had called on whom.

There was no satisfaction in his answer. The obfuscation of his words she tucked away to puzzle over later, should such a prize still linger in her thoughts by then, and for now the frown faded. She was unperturbed by the mysteries he would not share, content instead with the simplicity of his company. Whatever he fled had not followed. Neither would she allow herself to mire in thoughts she could do little about.

It wasn’t until she climbed out that she realised how the water clung slimy. Nimeda was never much preoccupied with the way she looked, nor chose to acknowledge physical discomfort, yet her nose wrinkled as she palmed the scummy film along one arm. “No,” she said distractedly. “I do not know what that is. Why do you need one?”

After a moment she glanced around them, but she felt no great affection for the urban landscape. It explained the filth at least. 

“It is a prison. Where are we, Noctua?” It’s name in the Waking world she did not care much to know, though she would absorb whatever answer he chose to give curiously. Rather, she wanted to know what it meant to him.