Memory Sharicus - Oh No, not again!

[heromedal]

About 8 am on July 15th, Rex does something stupid in his usual genius way. It was meant to be a small, simple test run of a method to scan a person and instantly gain all the data he needed to produce a Phantom.

The small field the spell was meant to spread just kept growing, until popping like a bubble with the most counterintuitive sound of all- two seconds of white noise, sounding as if it was coming from inches away. Not everyone heard it. But everyone who did...

It's a painless process, almost ticklish and instantaneous as numerous coloured orbs fly out from their chest, taking wild curving trajectories that launch them all over the academy and some of Soleil, coming to a sudden stop and hovering silently for just a few seconds.

That's when they start to slowly float towards the nearest possible recipient of the memory they contain, accelerating as they get closer as if thought and mind have a unique sort of magnetism.

It's sort of beautiful to see, really, not that Rex will notice because 60% of his mind is consumed with fear he will get into trouble and the Phantom project will be compromised. On the other hand, the Phantom project could provide the perfect scapegoat. So about six hours after the initial event, he released his latest creation- the Phantom mischief-maker, Waggery!

What a disaster.

(( ooc: The planning post is here! Be careful to warn for the nastier memories! If you already have memories planned to share, feel free to write them as a top level or just put up your character and link to the planning/make it a free for all. There'll be a post below for Waggery shenanigans and random NPC memories up for grabs. ))

Comments

[arcadianvampire]

...I can only imagine.

[It didn't take a genius to know that there were probably some... skeletons, for lack of a better word, in Ekkehardt's closet. Val couldn't know what they might be, but he could only guess that they would be... something, if taken out of context.]

Don't suppose you stumbled upon one of the ones from my Tyrant days, then? There have been more than one of those floating around.

[spelleton]

[ He sort of huffs at 'I can only imagine'. He doesn't feel the need to say anything to that; it likely explains itself. ]

No, I don't think it was. Not that far back....perhaps 'younger' was the wrong word. [ What is age to someone who's lived for centuries? ]

You were at someone's grave - not hers. Someone you trained. You thought quite poorly of yourself, it seemed.

[ There had been some strong feelings directed inwardly, none of them particularly positive-feeling. ] It's quite the contrast from how you are now.

[arcadianvampire]

[Valvatorez is quiet for a moment, and he closes his eyes, deep in thought and in reflection.]

...There were more than one of those occasions, my friend.

[He leans back in his chair a bit and folds his hands in front of himself. There were so many possibilities, but one in particular stuck out in his mind; something that he often thought back to.]

Was it Max?

[spelleton]

It was.

[ He'd like to say he can't begin to imagine what it's like, but he's had plenty of patients, some that he was fond of, slip away from him. It had been a more professional frustration, because he couldn't afford to let his heart break over every life lost, but still.

(Sometimes the lives lost, or bodies found, are children. Those are the ones that pain him the most.)

It's a drop in the ocean, in the face of such clear, sincere attachment. But it's something. ]

You think of him often. [ It's telling that the first guess is the correct one, so it's more of a statement than it is a question. ]

[arcadianvampire]

Mmmm. I do. It's hard to forget the first person I ever instructed.

[He rests an elbow on the armrest of his chair and rests a cheek on his hand. He knew a lot of things were just going to come spilling out; he was honest like that, rather than cagey. And he didn't mind, really. All of it was part of who he was, and he owned it. That's what it meant to carry yourself with pride and nobility.]

He was a good man. Strong, brave, kind... proud, but not arrogant. Also rash and impulsive when I first met him, but he grew out of it. He was 18 or so when we met... only a couple of years after I gave up human blood. To be honest, I wasn't sold on the idea of helping humanity at the time, even if I knew that was... [He pauses. He doesn't really need to say it.] ...I still was having a hard time forgiving humankind for what they did. And a harder time forgiving myself. So when I offered my aid to him, I did so with very mixed feelings. And as a result, my teaching was... clumsy and harsh. But it was enough. Max... took well to it in spite of my shortcomings and became quite an accomplished Hunter.

Seeing the lives he saved, the hope he brought to people... it gave me faith that her beliefs could come true. He could save lives that I could not, at the time, and his beliefs were steadfast and strong. A beacon in a storm for those around him. I couldn't be prouder of him.

...Even thirty years after her death, right about the same time that Maximilian passed away due to illness, I was still having a hard time forgiving myself for what happened. Max's passing made me feel like what little value I'd returned to the world died with him, even if he wasn't the only person I trained in those 30 years. He was still the shining star in that admittedly small group, and with him gone... I felt like I was right back to zero, even though his deeds and heroism in life still remained, and that he doubtlessly inspired others. It was hard to see that at the time. All I could do was throw myself into teaching and drown out that feeling by working myself to the bone.

[He let out a knowing sigh.]

As you well know... the 1600s were not a strong time for mental health, and it was not like there were people to speak to about it. The solution back then was to suffer in silence and do your best to get over it by yourself. ...Not exactly a healthy way to cope, but it was all I had. It took almost fifty years after I lost my Tyrant powers before I began to level out and see the true worth of what I was doing in a grander scope. I was lucky. Many others drown in their suffering, unable to escape its swirling undertow.

...I'm still not fully over my failure. It haunts me to this day. I know that. When you wear your pride on your chest like a medal, something like what happened in Gustark is a scar you will bear forever. ...But Max, in hindsight, showed me that an ugly scar's not the end of the world. Even at my absolute nadir in life, I was still able to do something. ...That's what he taught me.

...And it's why I've never looked back from teaching.

[spelleton]

[ He just listens, quietly. He doesn't have much to say; just like the memory he was never meant to witness, it's Valvatorez's time alone to speak about the death of someone that still lingers, even now. ]

Accomplishing something with so much weighing on you takes remarkable strength. [ He taps his fingers against one another methodically, a near-silent pattern. His initial awkwardness is gone, but there's space between his sentences, a lingering feeling between them, that suggests he's truly unsure of what to say next.

(This, too, is a vulnerability. Something he could easily banish, but does not.) ] It speaks to your quality of character that you were able to.

[ His smile is faint, but genuinely fond. ] It seems to me that your students were truly lucky to have such a dedicated teacher.