Nephthys was a fan of indulgences, and sleep was one that she held most dear. They were at the top, finally, and she enjoyed all parts of being idle rich, particularly the idle part. And so the nightmares she'd been suffering every night since returning to New York were really starting to grate. it didn't help her mood to know that more than once she'd awoken in a panic, or with a scream - one night even saw tears. It wasn't the sort of vulnerability that She enjoyed showing.
That night wasn't any different.
It was always the same. A heat that rivaled the deserts, with encroaching molten rock. Closed spaces that seemed to compress in the ever-present darkness. These she could handle... but it was the voices that kill her rest. The words weren't ones she knew, even in her dream, but the emotion... it pulled to life everything dark in her. Rage, envy, a thirst for vengeance... something rightful had been taken, STOLEN away, and the need for it to to be returned was a driving force. Underneath it all ran hatred.
She awoke with a gasp, pulled out of the dream before it's terrible end by the sound of a phone ringing in the other room. On one hand, she was grateful for whatever had disturbed the sequence of images... on the other, she hated her sleep disrupted, and hell knew she had enough negativity running through her after all of that.
Grabbing a robe, she shoved her arms in it as she walked, cinching it tight as she came into the main room, offering Set a disgruntled glare. Let him talk to whoever it was... She made her way to the bar for what was becoming a habitual wake-up drink.
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