Noctivagant

[Patricus I]

It’s a dream, he thought, feeling stupid. He couldn’t drown unless he believed he was drowning. “In my defense, I felt like a drowned rat. I didn’t really believe I was a drowning rat. Speaking of,” his gaze narrowed upon the waterfall, which continued to seep the never-landing mist into his bones. After a moment, the water slowed to a trickle and shut itself off altogether like a faucet turned off at the sink. “There,” he looked back at her with mixed part pride in the accomplishment and curiosity over whether she minded the change. 

The cats had been a new appearance in so far as he knew. Although perhaps a cat was the wrong term for the creatures, but they hunted like felines toying with their mice. “Tasty? I am not an actual rat. Why would cats prowl in my dreams? Are they native to this realm?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation for the correct word. If there were predators hunting the dream, what exactly was the prey? Were there other natives lurking out there? 

Nimeda kept her distance, though it was clear she considered plunking herself closeby. It was hard to think of her by any other name. Like this was the real figure and the girl in Tartu was the specter of his imagination. Philip’s return of the sentiment about being missed was an unexpected dismissal, “It’s alright. I’m used to being adored,” he said, but whatever softening of his expression followed was interrupted by the sudden turn in Nimeda’s attention.