Glimmers of a Dream

[Thalia]

Nimeda was amused by the engulfing handshake, so very gentle considering it would not have been hard for him to crush her hand completely. He was extremely polite, though she didn’t quite understand everything he said. Poorly translated? It didn’t occur to her to ask for an explanation; she was satisfied with her name after all, whatever it meant. In fact it was a gift she planned to cherish, supposing she remembered it when next she woke in this place. Nim-e-da. Nim-e-da. It flowed nicely, like the pleasing, lazy rush of waves. She liked it.

Her attention blinked back when Bear clapped Jon all brother-like on the shoulder, and she listened to Jon’s explanation raptly, without ever taking note that it wasn’t what she’d asked. It didn’t really matter. She was content to listen and let the words paint pictures, irrespective of what the words were or what pictures they painted. Representative. Council. Professional. It sounded like a well-rehearsed speech, else Jon was simply accustom to speaking in such a formal way. Then Bear’s laughter boomed like a boulder dropped amidst her thoughts, squashing them, and her gaze flickered between the two curiously. She didn’t expend much energy trying to fathom their silent communications; it was clear the two were close, and their camaraderie was soothing rather than alienating. She was happy to watch.

Dreams. They spoke of dreams again. Dreams and meaning. It stoked a sense of affinity that settled not entirely comfortably in her chest. She saw things, sometimes. Lately she dreamt of change, so much change, simmering slowly but steadily towards… well, she didn’t know, not exactly, but she suddenly realised this meeting was probably not as incidental as it seemed. That things were changing, even on this small scale. The epiphany rose and faded like all the rest, and inwardly she shrugged. Whatever she glimpsed was of little matter; she went willingly wherever fate dictated.

Bear seemed to struggle to speak, then, like mirth had pushed all the air from his lungs. Stifled by that raucous laughter it was hard at first to discern his words, though the gist was clear enough. His joviality was infectious and prompted first an amused smile then laughter of her own, though she bit her lip and stifled it, not very successfully, when she saw how red Jon had blushed beneath his hands. He seemed sporting enough, though, despite his embarrassment: he told Bear to go on.

She stumbled back a bit, grinning but not wanting to be caught up in the two’s play-fighting. Jon all but disappeared under Bear’s huge bulk, and Nimeda was laughing so hard tears beaded in her eyes and she buried her face in her hands. Her skin was flushed when she surfaced, still smiling broadly, trying desperately not to succumb to the image of such a huge man as Bear clutching his sides and rolling with laughter, or of Jon gripping on to a chandelier, but at least able to breathe as Bear ruffled Jon’s hair and eventually let him go.

"Questions? Oh." Her laughter slowly calmed, and she looked briefly at Jon, as though in doing so a bulb might switch on in her head. Of general curiosities, she had many; but they were all the inane kind, and the answers would probably slip in and out of her mind like sand through fingers. Of herself? Well, she knew her presence was unusual because Jon had told her so. She would assist in whatever way she could to allow him to unravel the mystery, but at the same time there was reticence. Uncertainty. Now where had that come from?

"Jon’s been showing me how to stay safe here. I nearly--" She trailed off, considering - not the way the world had nearly de-materialised around them, but that faint moment of recognition she had felt in the midst of it. "Did you know Bear would be here? Was it a guess, or is there some way to tell?" Though she initially addressed Jon, the question was aimed at either of them. There was earnestness in the gaze that travelled between them, and it wasn't difficult to guess the motivation behind the question.