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There are a lot of complicated factors involved in the drowning process. How long you can hold your breath for, whether or not you've already inhaled water, how much of your energy it's taking you to get to the surface, your age and general fitness, ect.
You don't think about those factors when it's happening to you, because your instincts kick in and you're 19, and scared, and you've got water going into your lungs and maybe you might die.
You don't think about the factors during your nightmares either.
His head hits the riverbed below him, and he can feel Torvics hand around his windpipe. There might be yelling above him but the words are muffled by the water in his ears. His respiratory bipass hasn't kicked in and there's water in his lungs that burns so vicerally that it becomes him, renders him helpless to his mouths whim as he opens it, breathes in more water, feels the silt scratch the back of his throat.
The second suns light dances over the water above him, he can only just see it past the thrashing of his own limbs and the shadow of Torvics horrid visage.
Torvics body falling lifeless, shadow slumping forward and down into the water directly on top of him-helpless to push him off.
Torvics blood that fills his mouth as easily as the water.
Koschei wakes with a start, gasping and coughing, head pounding with the sound of his heartsbeat in his ears. His chest feels so tight that its painful, it burns all over again, and it's enough to have the awful noise in his mind completely submerge him, reality devolving into abstract panic and striking noise that slams into his skull and he has to move, now, has to find air, has to get back up-
"Koschei, what in Rassilons name are you doing?"
Mortimus stares at his friend in equal parts confusion and concern, lit pipe in hand, sat against the railings of the balcony attached to their dorm room.
Koschei, still shaking, gives him what he hopes is a withering look-but it comes out more like a grimace. He's barely aware of the fact that he's just barged out onto the balcony, breathing erratic, hands pressed together and tapping a familiar drumbeat.
Mortimus is still staring at him when he brings his pipe to his mouth, smoke curling up and out into the darkened sky above. The nights silence would be cloying if it weren't for the noise in his head, but he's running on to much fear to notice anything but his own senses.
"Rough night then?" Mortimus quips. He's not necessarily unconcerned, but there's only so many times you can watch someone breakdown before it becomes routine. Still, it's good to keep him talking.
"Sorry?"
"Rough night, I said. You look like death."
Koschei sighs, bringing his hands to his temples as if the action will stave off the oncoming migraine. "I feel like it."
Mortimus hums in acknowledgement, patting the stone floor next to him.
"Sit down, then. Have a smoke, take half a span- that headache is not going to go away by itself."
"Smoking is your solution for everything." There's a fondness in the comment, an undercurrent of thanks despite the remaining shake in Koscheis voice.
"And it always works! Honestly, you ought to take my advice more often."
Mortimus hands over the pipe, grin evident.
The smoke tastes horrible, and for a moment he feels that familiar burning again- but he's in control of the feeling now, and the pressure on his chest dissipates as he breathes out.
"I think if I took your advice any more than I do now, we would both end up as footnotes in the matrix"
Mortimus gasps in mock horror and snatches back his pipe as Koschei sits down next to him, laughing at his friends dramatics.
"I can't believe this! I lend you my pipe out of the goodness of my hearts, and in return I am insulted-"
Koschei chuckles as he replies, mimicking his friends tone. "Oh well I am dreadfully sorry, Mortimus-"
The two pause for a moment before devolving into laughter, the sound echoing, bouncing into the circular courtyard below them.
Eventually they calm down, pressed shoulder to shoulder against the railings, sharing Mortimus' pipe between them. The water settles, and the drums are quiet again.
After a long pause, Koschei speaks again, staring at the door back into their dorm room.
"I apologise for disturbing you earlier. If I'd known you were out here I would have taken a walk instead."
"Don't worry about it. Besides, I was getting bored out here by myself." Mortimus pauses, following his friends gaze back to the door. He let's a few more moments pass before he continues with a tone more genuine than he's used in a long time.
"You don't make terrible company."
Kos turns back and smiles, mirrors the words with his face. Mortimus might never get over how well he can change someone's mind with that smile.
"You don't make terrible company either. Maybe we're getting too used to eachother."
The mood changes, the moment gone but not forgotten. Unfamiliar territory.
"Easy on the compliments, Kos. Any more and I might start thinking you actually tolerate me."
The stars are bright, the grounds are quiet.
Koschei stands up and walks back towards the door.
A step too far. A breath too good to be true. The silence has returned to cloying, the railings cold. His tone is still teasing, but it is done. No going back.
"In your dreams aerial ears."
And he dissapears.