11-24-2014, 01:07 PM
Memory had long since faded, and she was both empty and content in this world of spirits and shadows. Her consciousness drifted, dangerous in such a place as this, but her control here had always been a strange thing. She was connected in a way others were not, although that of course had its drawbacks. "Nimeda."
She murmured the name to herself from time to time. To remember. She had not seen Jon for some while, an eternity to her unanchored mind, so that his memory grew thin. Until next they met, at least.
Various faces often haunted her dreaming here, and sometimes she was drawn to people as they slept. A night-time guardian, or curious voyeur at least, but tonight there was only her own existence wandering free and unburdened. For a while, anyway.
The distress called her, hearkening to some old, ancient part of herself that stirred at its presence. She went without decision, the trees materialising thick and pressing a deep darkness that was none of her own doing. What made them so ominous she did not know. Another mind, perhaps. Fear was not something she usually succumbed to, through the very essence of her detached nature, maybe, else a startling naivety. Her fingers trailed the bark and stretching gnarled limbs as she materialised, but she made no attempt to impress her own shape to them. The nightmare plucked at her consciousness, beckoning her into its grip. But she believed not the power of anything here.
Save perhaps the wolf.
Nimeda saw the wolf before the brother; usually she steered clear of them, a mutually kept distance edged with somewhat wary respect. She was something ancient. And so were they, armed with distant memories of long, long ago actions she could no longer recall. By their distance, she did not think she had always been kind to them. Their human brethren she had some more experience with, and it was this one's pain that had summoned her. So many wandered this place. Lost or feral. And brother she assumed him to be by the man's company, though she could not see his face nor burnished eyes. They stared out, beyond the clearing, and into darkness.
"Something comes?"
she judged by their readiness, her presence finally solidifying some short way behind them, still stood among the trees. Her feet were bare, her hair long wild and loose, and paint splattered the fingers she used to grasp at the trunk of a tree. The wide-eyed picture of curious innocence, though she looked upon the wolf with unhidden wariness. Where there was one there was more. A shiver of apprehension traversed her spine. The man's ill dream. Or something else. She trusted this world, but it was not always benign. Despite her reservations, she stepped cautiously out.
Edited by Thalia, Nov 25 2014, 05:48 PM.
She murmured the name to herself from time to time. To remember. She had not seen Jon for some while, an eternity to her unanchored mind, so that his memory grew thin. Until next they met, at least.
Various faces often haunted her dreaming here, and sometimes she was drawn to people as they slept. A night-time guardian, or curious voyeur at least, but tonight there was only her own existence wandering free and unburdened. For a while, anyway.
The distress called her, hearkening to some old, ancient part of herself that stirred at its presence. She went without decision, the trees materialising thick and pressing a deep darkness that was none of her own doing. What made them so ominous she did not know. Another mind, perhaps. Fear was not something she usually succumbed to, through the very essence of her detached nature, maybe, else a startling naivety. Her fingers trailed the bark and stretching gnarled limbs as she materialised, but she made no attempt to impress her own shape to them. The nightmare plucked at her consciousness, beckoning her into its grip. But she believed not the power of anything here.
Save perhaps the wolf.
Nimeda saw the wolf before the brother; usually she steered clear of them, a mutually kept distance edged with somewhat wary respect. She was something ancient. And so were they, armed with distant memories of long, long ago actions she could no longer recall. By their distance, she did not think she had always been kind to them. Their human brethren she had some more experience with, and it was this one's pain that had summoned her. So many wandered this place. Lost or feral. And brother she assumed him to be by the man's company, though she could not see his face nor burnished eyes. They stared out, beyond the clearing, and into darkness.
"Something comes?"
she judged by their readiness, her presence finally solidifying some short way behind them, still stood among the trees. Her feet were bare, her hair long wild and loose, and paint splattered the fingers she used to grasp at the trunk of a tree. The wide-eyed picture of curious innocence, though she looked upon the wolf with unhidden wariness. Where there was one there was more. A shiver of apprehension traversed her spine. The man's ill dream. Or something else. She trusted this world, but it was not always benign. Despite her reservations, she stepped cautiously out.
Edited by Thalia, Nov 25 2014, 05:48 PM.
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