04-01-2023, 07:54 PM
[[Re-posting as a collaborated post, for ease. Nemesyne is pronounced like "Nemesis", ending in see-nee. So something like Nema - see-nee]]
![[Image: thaliahair.png]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/thaliahair.png)
![[Image: tristan-gold.png]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/tristan-gold.png)
The room shuddered and groaned. She felt like she fell for a long time after that, darkness rushing past her ears and spilling the contents of her soul like a dashed glass of water. She cowered, head in hands. Her grandmother was not going to be happy, and she was certain she should not have brought anyone here. Had they broken something? Arms around her tightened like they might prevent the inevitable, and she was glad of the company in that starless place. The island of a heartbeat reminded her who she was without her ever realising she’d forgotten it, like climbing down chains to an anchor.
When everything grew still Thalia uncurled a little, pressing a hand flush against her chest to calm the shrill panic fluttering within. She couldn’t see anything. Only when she shifted tentatively again in the darkness, wondering what on earth had happened, something came loose with her grip. A pale and ethereal thread wound her fingers and wisped to nothing as she watched. A hallucination, surely. She didn’t investigate, only tugged one of the blankets about her shoulders, held it in a knotted fist against her heart.
Tension strung her through. She closed her eyes tight.
She was not afraid of the dark and the things that lived in it, but she did not want to be left behind. The growl of Tristan’s words went unheeded; she was alarmed when he moved, and followed completely blindly, meeting the iron barrier of his arm urging her back. For once Thalia listened without protest. She had no idea who he was talking to, just accepted it in trust. He sounded uncertain. Hardly the strangest revelation of the morning though. For all she knew he was talking to the room itself; it had been whispering to her too after all, since almost the moment of their arrival.
A low hum marked the return of the power. Thalia pivoted to watch the light speed around the study, though it shone gloomier than it had been, like the settling of an artificial twilight. Only, she didn’t think it was supposed to be like that. She leaned against Tristan’s back, not sure who that comfort was for; her or him. Her eyes brushed closed, and a slow sigh left her chest. Now the adrenaline burned away, calm replaced it easily. Though so too did fatigue. The starry blanket draped her shoulders, and she wasn’t cold, but she regretted leaving the tangled warmth of furs and limbs.
“I thought the world was ending. I guess not yet,” she murmured, mostly to herself. By now she desperately wanted to curl up and sleep, which probably had something to do with the pleasant lethargy still in her body. But sleep would only bring dreams and drawings, and her hands were still bloody and sore. She had no paper. No pencil. She should have slept first; allowed herself to be more prepared as Tristan had insisted. But instinct had fired her from the cabin. And maybe the Guardian couldn’t wait.
“Who are you talking to?”
When she shifted and opened her eyes it was to blink at the small creature crouched on the desk. Green eyes were staring back at her with quite some scrutiny.
[Sister!]
“That is a very ugly cat,” she said, surprised, just as its tufted ears twitched. It chirruped and stretched, flexing a sinuous tail she was quite sure even in the lingering shadows actually forked at its end. It was too tall for a housecat, and sleek to the point of being skeletal. [Sister?] But it was the gleam of something ruby red at its forehead that was the most markedly strange, like a third eye. Curiosity bloomed more than fear. She glanced askance up at Tristan, though she couldn’t fathom why he might hold an answer.
Once the cat thing settled on the desk, Tristan relaxed. They were twin creatures after all. Both of the night. If it wasn’t respect, then perhaps mutual understanding.
Thalia’s description was spot on. The thing was ugly.
“Y O U U G L Y T O O” the voice rippled across his head.
He smirked, but Thalia didn’t react. His expression settled. “Can’t you hear it?” he asked. She clearly didn’t.
When he looked again, its tail was twitching, but it hadn’t moved otherwise.
“I’m Tristan. This is Thalia,” he moved just enough for her to be more clearly observed.
“I A M T H E N E M E S Y N E.”
Tristan looked down at Thalia, “Its name is Neme... Nemesyne,” he shrugged after that. The word was difficult to pronounce.
After he introduced Thalia, it seemed that Nemesyne was staring those unblinking cat-like eyes at her fully.
"W H E R E I S M O T H E R ?
W E M U S T F I N D M O T H E R
M O T H E R W I L L K N O W W H A T T O D O
M O T H E R W I L L K N O W H O W T O H E L P !"
He watched the interaction. Nemesyne shifted on its paws, ears twitching in irritation. Then it looked back at him.
"S I S T E R D O E S N O T H E A R, T R I S T A N ?"
He frowned.
“It wants its mother,” he said for her benefit, but he didn’t know what it meant himself. He certainly wasn’t its brother. Thalia wasn’t the sister of a cat. A minx maybe…
Was it trapped down here? Alone? He pushed a hand through his damp hair, confused.
Tristan's dishevelment made her smile a little to behold. Damp hair poured down one side of his face. The gold of his eyes was intense. He called himself a monster, and plodded ever forward on this strange journey of odd, but he seemed hesitant every new step. Though she was not sure if it was that he did not fit the world, or the world simply did not fit around him. She blinked a little at the question, but did not seem disturbed by the revelation that he claimed to be talking to the cat. Amusement rippled as she beheld the creature anew, and Tristan meanwhile stumbled over its strange name. "Well, hello then." She laughed a little, but only in bemused curiosity.
It was then she noticed something.
“Everything’s moved.” She slipped past Tristan to run her fingers over the desk’s carved surface, unperturbed by the creature puttering across its surface. An artist’s attention caught the shift of composition, which shouldn’t have been remotely possible. As her hands explored, the soft resonance of power answered. Not that she called. And then she remembered the light she’d poured into it earlier. One of the nodules now flickered faintly, and when she glanced up the constellation above their heads had likewise shifted into a new pattern. It was a map; she knew that like she knew her own name, but the origins of the knowledge made her shy naturally away from it. She had not looked at the closed door with the star on its surface since they arrived and the whisper curled into her mind. She still did not.
In the same moment the strange cat shot off into the darkened archway; the one from whence they had originally come. Though Thalia knew it no longer held the path back.
He was a cautious follower, but it wasn’t the items on the desk that held his attention. He was watching the cat. It hadn’t strayed from the desk even as Thalia approached. He smirked to himself when it reacted affectionately to the pet of his palm. Its fur was softer than a wolf. Its body was warm.
The moment passed as Neme’s attention suddenly flicked aside.
"T R I S T A N, S H E I S H E R E. T R I S T A N, S H E I S H U R T!"
“I think its mother is here?” he still didn’t understand. If it was alone all this time, how had it lost its mother? But then a scent wafted in. Something he had never known before.
Thalia looked in the direction it darted. “Follow it, I guess? Makes as much sense as anything else.” She reached for Tristan’s hand without thinking. Eagerness pulled its siren song, thumping a swifter cadence of her heartbeat. But she might as well have been tethered to a boulder for all the shifting he did.
He was the boulder that Thalia tugged against. “Me first,” softly spoken, but insistent.
She had been about to plummet fearlessly into the darkened archway, and momentum alone almost carried her onwards, but that his grip tightened. Not hard. Surprise flooded, but she did still, unwilling to abandon the connection. A frown flickered but cleared easily. In almost the same moment her mouth parted in memory. “I promised that, didn't I,” she agreed. Thalia didn’t quite know what to make of that overbearing protection. From the time she’d left home at eighteen she’d been independent; no one had ever caged her in, even for her own good. But a promise was a promise.
The passageway was short where before it had been long. It flared out into a wide chamber. Water lapped the ground, squeezing cold beneath her toes. The walls were dark glass, like they had stepped into the centre of an underwater bubble. Thalia’s eyes rounded wide from where she trailed behind Tristan’s shoulder. She’d had no real concept of how big the creature would be, or how the awe would fill her up enough to spark tears to her eyes. Because she was real. Impossibly real. Tentacles writhed across the pool’s surface, though she was mostly submerged. Patterns scrawled her skin. The scales glinted bright. No drawing could really convey the wild, inhuman beauty.
Onyx dark eyes marked their entrance, and a snarl curled the guardian’s lips. The tentacles behind her spiked crown coiled in agitation. But it wasn’t the fear Thalia had drawn from the dream. It was pain.
“No,” she murmured. “No no no.”
Pink stained the water. “Tristan she’s bleeding.”
She foolishly ran almost as soon as she spoke, surprisingly fast. Her feet slapped the shallows. The light burned cinders beneath her skin, brighter than she’d ever felt, spinning a frantic desire to help.
The room shuddered and groaned. She felt like she fell for a long time after that, darkness rushing past her ears and spilling the contents of her soul like a dashed glass of water. She cowered, head in hands. Her grandmother was not going to be happy, and she was certain she should not have brought anyone here. Had they broken something? Arms around her tightened like they might prevent the inevitable, and she was glad of the company in that starless place. The island of a heartbeat reminded her who she was without her ever realising she’d forgotten it, like climbing down chains to an anchor.
When everything grew still Thalia uncurled a little, pressing a hand flush against her chest to calm the shrill panic fluttering within. She couldn’t see anything. Only when she shifted tentatively again in the darkness, wondering what on earth had happened, something came loose with her grip. A pale and ethereal thread wound her fingers and wisped to nothing as she watched. A hallucination, surely. She didn’t investigate, only tugged one of the blankets about her shoulders, held it in a knotted fist against her heart.
Tension strung her through. She closed her eyes tight.
She was not afraid of the dark and the things that lived in it, but she did not want to be left behind. The growl of Tristan’s words went unheeded; she was alarmed when he moved, and followed completely blindly, meeting the iron barrier of his arm urging her back. For once Thalia listened without protest. She had no idea who he was talking to, just accepted it in trust. He sounded uncertain. Hardly the strangest revelation of the morning though. For all she knew he was talking to the room itself; it had been whispering to her too after all, since almost the moment of their arrival.
A low hum marked the return of the power. Thalia pivoted to watch the light speed around the study, though it shone gloomier than it had been, like the settling of an artificial twilight. Only, she didn’t think it was supposed to be like that. She leaned against Tristan’s back, not sure who that comfort was for; her or him. Her eyes brushed closed, and a slow sigh left her chest. Now the adrenaline burned away, calm replaced it easily. Though so too did fatigue. The starry blanket draped her shoulders, and she wasn’t cold, but she regretted leaving the tangled warmth of furs and limbs.
“I thought the world was ending. I guess not yet,” she murmured, mostly to herself. By now she desperately wanted to curl up and sleep, which probably had something to do with the pleasant lethargy still in her body. But sleep would only bring dreams and drawings, and her hands were still bloody and sore. She had no paper. No pencil. She should have slept first; allowed herself to be more prepared as Tristan had insisted. But instinct had fired her from the cabin. And maybe the Guardian couldn’t wait.
“Who are you talking to?”
When she shifted and opened her eyes it was to blink at the small creature crouched on the desk. Green eyes were staring back at her with quite some scrutiny.
[Sister!]
“That is a very ugly cat,” she said, surprised, just as its tufted ears twitched. It chirruped and stretched, flexing a sinuous tail she was quite sure even in the lingering shadows actually forked at its end. It was too tall for a housecat, and sleek to the point of being skeletal. [Sister?] But it was the gleam of something ruby red at its forehead that was the most markedly strange, like a third eye. Curiosity bloomed more than fear. She glanced askance up at Tristan, though she couldn’t fathom why he might hold an answer.
Once the cat thing settled on the desk, Tristan relaxed. They were twin creatures after all. Both of the night. If it wasn’t respect, then perhaps mutual understanding.
Thalia’s description was spot on. The thing was ugly.
“Y O U U G L Y T O O” the voice rippled across his head.
He smirked, but Thalia didn’t react. His expression settled. “Can’t you hear it?” he asked. She clearly didn’t.
When he looked again, its tail was twitching, but it hadn’t moved otherwise.
“I’m Tristan. This is Thalia,” he moved just enough for her to be more clearly observed.
“I A M T H E N E M E S Y N E.”
Tristan looked down at Thalia, “Its name is Neme... Nemesyne,” he shrugged after that. The word was difficult to pronounce.
After he introduced Thalia, it seemed that Nemesyne was staring those unblinking cat-like eyes at her fully.
"W H E R E I S M O T H E R ?
W E M U S T F I N D M O T H E R
M O T H E R W I L L K N O W W H A T T O D O
M O T H E R W I L L K N O W H O W T O H E L P !"
He watched the interaction. Nemesyne shifted on its paws, ears twitching in irritation. Then it looked back at him.
"S I S T E R D O E S N O T H E A R, T R I S T A N ?"
He frowned.
“It wants its mother,” he said for her benefit, but he didn’t know what it meant himself. He certainly wasn’t its brother. Thalia wasn’t the sister of a cat. A minx maybe…
Was it trapped down here? Alone? He pushed a hand through his damp hair, confused.
Tristan's dishevelment made her smile a little to behold. Damp hair poured down one side of his face. The gold of his eyes was intense. He called himself a monster, and plodded ever forward on this strange journey of odd, but he seemed hesitant every new step. Though she was not sure if it was that he did not fit the world, or the world simply did not fit around him. She blinked a little at the question, but did not seem disturbed by the revelation that he claimed to be talking to the cat. Amusement rippled as she beheld the creature anew, and Tristan meanwhile stumbled over its strange name. "Well, hello then." She laughed a little, but only in bemused curiosity.
It was then she noticed something.
“Everything’s moved.” She slipped past Tristan to run her fingers over the desk’s carved surface, unperturbed by the creature puttering across its surface. An artist’s attention caught the shift of composition, which shouldn’t have been remotely possible. As her hands explored, the soft resonance of power answered. Not that she called. And then she remembered the light she’d poured into it earlier. One of the nodules now flickered faintly, and when she glanced up the constellation above their heads had likewise shifted into a new pattern. It was a map; she knew that like she knew her own name, but the origins of the knowledge made her shy naturally away from it. She had not looked at the closed door with the star on its surface since they arrived and the whisper curled into her mind. She still did not.
In the same moment the strange cat shot off into the darkened archway; the one from whence they had originally come. Though Thalia knew it no longer held the path back.
He was a cautious follower, but it wasn’t the items on the desk that held his attention. He was watching the cat. It hadn’t strayed from the desk even as Thalia approached. He smirked to himself when it reacted affectionately to the pet of his palm. Its fur was softer than a wolf. Its body was warm.
The moment passed as Neme’s attention suddenly flicked aside.
"T R I S T A N, S H E I S H E R E. T R I S T A N, S H E I S H U R T!"
“I think its mother is here?” he still didn’t understand. If it was alone all this time, how had it lost its mother? But then a scent wafted in. Something he had never known before.
Thalia looked in the direction it darted. “Follow it, I guess? Makes as much sense as anything else.” She reached for Tristan’s hand without thinking. Eagerness pulled its siren song, thumping a swifter cadence of her heartbeat. But she might as well have been tethered to a boulder for all the shifting he did.
He was the boulder that Thalia tugged against. “Me first,” softly spoken, but insistent.
She had been about to plummet fearlessly into the darkened archway, and momentum alone almost carried her onwards, but that his grip tightened. Not hard. Surprise flooded, but she did still, unwilling to abandon the connection. A frown flickered but cleared easily. In almost the same moment her mouth parted in memory. “I promised that, didn't I,” she agreed. Thalia didn’t quite know what to make of that overbearing protection. From the time she’d left home at eighteen she’d been independent; no one had ever caged her in, even for her own good. But a promise was a promise.
**
The passageway was short where before it had been long. It flared out into a wide chamber. Water lapped the ground, squeezing cold beneath her toes. The walls were dark glass, like they had stepped into the centre of an underwater bubble. Thalia’s eyes rounded wide from where she trailed behind Tristan’s shoulder. She’d had no real concept of how big the creature would be, or how the awe would fill her up enough to spark tears to her eyes. Because she was real. Impossibly real. Tentacles writhed across the pool’s surface, though she was mostly submerged. Patterns scrawled her skin. The scales glinted bright. No drawing could really convey the wild, inhuman beauty.
Onyx dark eyes marked their entrance, and a snarl curled the guardian’s lips. The tentacles behind her spiked crown coiled in agitation. But it wasn’t the fear Thalia had drawn from the dream. It was pain.
“No,” she murmured. “No no no.”
Pink stained the water. “Tristan she’s bleeding.”
She foolishly ran almost as soon as she spoke, surprisingly fast. Her feet slapped the shallows. The light burned cinders beneath her skin, brighter than she’d ever felt, spinning a frantic desire to help.
![[Image: thal-banner-scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/thal-banner-scaled.jpg)