Sjur snorts and coughs as she wakes herself up from a sound sleep. "You were drooling," Mara says. She's perched in a divan nearby. There are books open all around her. She has dog-eared dozens of pages. "I was dreaming," Sjur says, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. "I saw you on a great black triangle. You split it in two with your bare hands." "Mm." "And I was dead, I think." She cracks her neck with a deliciously loud pop. "Or… trapped? Like in a maze. But pretty close to figuring my way out." "Mhm." Sjur stands up to stretch. She does not mind that Mara is not listening. Let her read. "And there was another woman with you." "On the triangle," Mara murmurs. "Mm. Yeah. She was helping. Then your brother showed up, and…" She shakes out her arms, frowning thoughtfully. The dream is already fading. "He said, 'Tropaea.' Or maybe it was, uh, 'Tropical.' Anyway."