[For someone who was never much of a swimmer, never really cared for the beach or sailing or any associated activities, water has a way of finding him and making him feel at ease. He's always liked the rain, after all. His omen is an orca whale... and now, for the first time in a harried while, he's fully submerged and floating, and his breath is kind to him. The dream is lucid, so he doesn't forget that he doesn't have gills, spasming and panicking the way one does when they're in a position to suddenly and distressingly remember.
Or, maybe, he considers as he explores further, the dream itself simply forgot to make the water unbreathable. There are things about it, elements out of place or lost or just partly-built, but there's at least one of them he knows in passing.
Someone who died. He kicks his legs, his damp clothing moving around him though his shoes are absent, and his omen Lycka follows close behind. She keens, a high-pitched sound that cuts through the water like a blade; will it wake him? Should they wake him?]
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Or, maybe, he considers as he explores further, the dream itself simply forgot to make the water unbreathable. There are things about it, elements out of place or lost or just partly-built, but there's at least one of them he knows in passing.
Someone who died. He kicks his legs, his damp clothing moving around him though his shoes are absent, and his omen Lycka follows close behind. She keens, a high-pitched sound that cuts through the water like a blade; will it wake him? Should they wake him?]