08-18-2013, 04:42 PM
Why had she never thought about these things? Nimeda watched and listened with interest, though her internal logic was battling less with understanding what he told her and more with puzzling over why it seemed so familiar. Thinking like this was akin to swimming against a tide, and it made her limbs feel heavy as lead, her mind sluggish and tired. Do I know you? Something tickled, faintly; something, something. She’d still been acclimatising when he’d stumbled upon her, but if she knew him from the waking world then surely he would have recognised her. He hadn’t, which meant the possibility was unlikely. Then what? It was bewildering, but the mystery didn’t really bother her. It was something to pick at, to prod curiously to discover what was yielded. Then forget.
She was easily distracted. Half way across the world? Half way across the world? Her eyes lit generously with surprise, quickly blooming to excitement, and maybe she didn’t quite focus on what he said next – though she needed no coaxing to offer her hands. Her gaze fixed quite firmly on his; as firm and confidant as the grip of her fingers. She was inured to this place; she didn’t fear getting lost, and she trusted him anyway - had no reason not to - so though his warnings did pierce her consciousness, and on some level she probably understood, she was more eager to get going than to pay attention to cautionary advice.
At his last words, a hum of amused laughter left her throat, though whether that was for the instruction that she stay where she was if they were separated or for the admission that he didn’t want anything to happen to her was unclear. Nothing untoward would happen, she was sure of that; or at least that if it did it would not be able to overwhelm her. There was a time when -- the memory recoiled before it touched more than shadows on her mind, though for a second she was soured by an engulfing sense of hubris. Weird. Rather than dwelling she nodded, and squeezed Jon’s fingers. Comfort, trust, impatience. It seemed to do the trick.
He closed his eyes and she mirrored, focusing on the warmth of his hands.
Shift
The cold bit into her skin, though the feeling faded once she opened her eyes; it was an intuitive reaction, to simply adjust her perceptions to be comfortable in her environment. The snow was not real, and its affects were a matter of expectation. It was probably symptomatic of her unusually ambiguous connection to the waking world that her first inclination was to imagine herself warm rather than to change her exterior to suit - not that it was something she even paused to consider. She spun on her heel, absorbing all the frigid white, barely noticing that her clothing did indeed change – nor how it then shifted and altered around her to whim. Who lives in a place like this?
It was only when Jon called out that her ponderous examination of their new surroundings ended, and she twisted back full circle. She didn’t see anything at first, until the blur shifted closer, and she watched curiously as it bombarded toward them.
A wolf.
It was beginning to tax, all this newness that was not newness but was. She’d been alone a long time before today. When she tried to look back, her memories - such as they were - spanned back an eternity, so deeply stretched to the horizon that for a moment she felt quite dizzy. But recently, recently this place had been quiet, and she’d grown used to the solitude, she supposed. He stared, this wolf called Bear; like he was trying to twist her inside out. It should have been discomforting, but all she could think about was whether he would be offended if she tangled her fingers in the white fur of his ruff. It looked so soft and dense. Probably he would snap her arm off before she got close, though. The thick gloves on her hands melted in and out a few times before staying solid.
Then the wolf shimmered and reassembled into the shape of a man. It felt like her gaze travelled an awful long way up before she met those bright gold eyes. Nimeda pushed her fur hat – a traditional Russian ushanka – up her brow a little, and offered a smile. Predictably, by now, she was unfazed by what she saw, though this time she was also quietly contemplative. Something about this man pressed down hard on her mind; heavy and blunt as a warning cuff to the head. Not a memory exactly, and not elicited by him specifically. She had never been here, of that she was more-or-less certain. She had seen gold eyes framed by other faces, though.
"You’re not the same as Jon." She tugged her scarf away from her mouth to speak. It sounded like she meant his eyes, like a child proudly pointing out the difference between colours blue and red - and it was a true enough distinction - but her understanding for once ran deeper than a brief skim across the surface. Her gaze broke to scan the horizon, and for a second she couldn't even recall what she looked for. Bear's kind are not always alone. Her presence here had not always been good, and the wolves were old, eternal things. She didn't know that exactly, but she felt it, and she wondered how good their memories were; how well they might or might not understand her legacy here. More importantly, she wondered if she could pull herself from this place on command. If she had to.
Numbness eased the thought away, reasserting a calm tide of acceptance. The lingering hint of scrutiny in her expression smoothed to an eager smile, sparking new light in her grey eyes. She still remembered what Bear was, but the rest - the brief flare of concern - had faded, replaced by her usual affability. "Jon chose my name," she told Bear conversationally. "It means something, though I can't remember what." She looked at Jon briefly, as though trying to pluck that memory from the rest. Truthfully she probably could have, if she'd cared enough to expend the effort. Instead she grinned ruefully. The wolves would have given Bear his moniker, and some understanding of that had probably prompted her words. Like most of her small insights, it wasn't one she gave any depth of consideration. She turned to survey the landscape again, quite clearly awed by the acres of white. Silence would travel for miles, here. "How did you two even meet here?"
Edited by Thalia, Aug 21 2013, 12:48 PM.
She was easily distracted. Half way across the world? Half way across the world? Her eyes lit generously with surprise, quickly blooming to excitement, and maybe she didn’t quite focus on what he said next – though she needed no coaxing to offer her hands. Her gaze fixed quite firmly on his; as firm and confidant as the grip of her fingers. She was inured to this place; she didn’t fear getting lost, and she trusted him anyway - had no reason not to - so though his warnings did pierce her consciousness, and on some level she probably understood, she was more eager to get going than to pay attention to cautionary advice.
At his last words, a hum of amused laughter left her throat, though whether that was for the instruction that she stay where she was if they were separated or for the admission that he didn’t want anything to happen to her was unclear. Nothing untoward would happen, she was sure of that; or at least that if it did it would not be able to overwhelm her. There was a time when -- the memory recoiled before it touched more than shadows on her mind, though for a second she was soured by an engulfing sense of hubris. Weird. Rather than dwelling she nodded, and squeezed Jon’s fingers. Comfort, trust, impatience. It seemed to do the trick.
He closed his eyes and she mirrored, focusing on the warmth of his hands.
Shift
The cold bit into her skin, though the feeling faded once she opened her eyes; it was an intuitive reaction, to simply adjust her perceptions to be comfortable in her environment. The snow was not real, and its affects were a matter of expectation. It was probably symptomatic of her unusually ambiguous connection to the waking world that her first inclination was to imagine herself warm rather than to change her exterior to suit - not that it was something she even paused to consider. She spun on her heel, absorbing all the frigid white, barely noticing that her clothing did indeed change – nor how it then shifted and altered around her to whim. Who lives in a place like this?
It was only when Jon called out that her ponderous examination of their new surroundings ended, and she twisted back full circle. She didn’t see anything at first, until the blur shifted closer, and she watched curiously as it bombarded toward them.
A wolf.
It was beginning to tax, all this newness that was not newness but was. She’d been alone a long time before today. When she tried to look back, her memories - such as they were - spanned back an eternity, so deeply stretched to the horizon that for a moment she felt quite dizzy. But recently, recently this place had been quiet, and she’d grown used to the solitude, she supposed. He stared, this wolf called Bear; like he was trying to twist her inside out. It should have been discomforting, but all she could think about was whether he would be offended if she tangled her fingers in the white fur of his ruff. It looked so soft and dense. Probably he would snap her arm off before she got close, though. The thick gloves on her hands melted in and out a few times before staying solid.
Then the wolf shimmered and reassembled into the shape of a man. It felt like her gaze travelled an awful long way up before she met those bright gold eyes. Nimeda pushed her fur hat – a traditional Russian ushanka – up her brow a little, and offered a smile. Predictably, by now, she was unfazed by what she saw, though this time she was also quietly contemplative. Something about this man pressed down hard on her mind; heavy and blunt as a warning cuff to the head. Not a memory exactly, and not elicited by him specifically. She had never been here, of that she was more-or-less certain. She had seen gold eyes framed by other faces, though.
"You’re not the same as Jon." She tugged her scarf away from her mouth to speak. It sounded like she meant his eyes, like a child proudly pointing out the difference between colours blue and red - and it was a true enough distinction - but her understanding for once ran deeper than a brief skim across the surface. Her gaze broke to scan the horizon, and for a second she couldn't even recall what she looked for. Bear's kind are not always alone. Her presence here had not always been good, and the wolves were old, eternal things. She didn't know that exactly, but she felt it, and she wondered how good their memories were; how well they might or might not understand her legacy here. More importantly, she wondered if she could pull herself from this place on command. If she had to.
Numbness eased the thought away, reasserting a calm tide of acceptance. The lingering hint of scrutiny in her expression smoothed to an eager smile, sparking new light in her grey eyes. She still remembered what Bear was, but the rest - the brief flare of concern - had faded, replaced by her usual affability. "Jon chose my name," she told Bear conversationally. "It means something, though I can't remember what." She looked at Jon briefly, as though trying to pluck that memory from the rest. Truthfully she probably could have, if she'd cared enough to expend the effort. Instead she grinned ruefully. The wolves would have given Bear his moniker, and some understanding of that had probably prompted her words. Like most of her small insights, it wasn't one she gave any depth of consideration. She turned to survey the landscape again, quite clearly awed by the acres of white. Silence would travel for miles, here. "How did you two even meet here?"
Edited by Thalia, Aug 21 2013, 12:48 PM.
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