Tiberinus

[Thalia]

Nimeda flung herself wide to the dream, but the Grey Lady did not answer the call. When finally the silence grew too much, she let herself tumble backwards from wind-torn cliffs, and plunged into the freezing waters below. Bubbles slid and frothed against her skin as she sank, until the embrace became something of warmer climates. She twisted and floated amongst those waves, spiralling slowly down. Words circled her mind too, though she tried not to dwell on them. The feelings stirred up, though; those were like an anchor.

Now she drifted at the very bottom of the river’s bed, white skirts billowing and tickling against her limbs, dark hair drifting about her pale face in a lethargic cloud of coils and loops. The iridescent glyph on her chest had not resurfaced, once more shored up with smooth skin and hidden to the deepest depths where it ought remain. Better it lie forgotten, and yet the muddied churn of its memory was like some morbid fascination now that she was alone to contemplate it. She had not looked at it at the time, but it seemed she had not needed to. Her fingers traced its shape into the soft silt. Washed it clean with the brush of a palm. Started again.

The swirl of petals, reaching out like spokes. A tumultuous sweep of waves. The symbol at its heart.

Idly swiped away.

The last time her finger dug instead the sinuous line of something else, but she wiped that away too.

Then somewhere distant the familiar sound of a weight plummeting beneath the surface finally raised her head, and she pushed upwards from the bottom, letting herself shift to the disturbance. A genuine smile lit what had been an expression of pensive contemplation, for the last face she expected to see in such murky depths was nonetheless one that always gladdened her. 

The arc of her arms propelled her upwards. Her face broke sleek above the water, assuming he would follow, though she would return for him if not. “Noctua?”