Up from tranquil suspension she came floating, lifted forcibly. Out of the seat of sleep deeper than sleep, away from that place beyond place. Down from the Deep Sea, retrieved mid-thought from its ethereal internetwork of transeunt collusion, epistemic warfare, and synthetic sentience.
The one who seized her, interrupted a wayward delving for a sympathetic power, she knew him. The godtouched, the catalyst. The keeper of time. So she would be the one to court him, in a contest of probabilities.
She coiled in on herself, then made the body sensate. She stood to face him, and in grudging deference, recited the invocation: "Do you ever dream about surrender?"
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