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

[spelleton]

[ You're making notes at a desk. There's books stacked and scattered around you, many with bookmarks or opened to certain pages.

Someone is tugging at your hair. You prop your arm up on the back of the chair to look for the source of the intrusion; a small, dark-eyed child with half-formed horns and tousled black hair.

You understand what they want, even before they say it. ]

"Can I braid it?"

Yes. Of course you can.

[ They beam delightedly, the smile lighting up their otherwise sickly-toned face. The feeling of small hands in your hair is a little strange, a little uncomfortable, but their hands are gentle, if clumsy; they've clearly done this before.

You turn back to your work - writing down the next week's lesson plans. You don't wear gloves, and your sleeves, rolled up due to some prior engagement, show nothing but dark skin - no bandages to be found.

White hair falls over your face. You reach up and tuck it behind your ear so it doesn't obscure your sight, humming some old tune as you continue your work. The child braiding your hair sings along tunelessly.

You feel entirely content.

(Everything feels slightly faded, slightly unreal; even as you experience it, there's still distance there that can't be breached.) ]

[unpocoloco]

[He finds him at a desk again, just like in memory. He wonders if Ekkehardt gravitates to these sorts of things on purpose. But the memory, he could tell, wasn't of daybreak. It was the room, for one, the fact that, although he didn't recognize this same child as the same, there was a sort of oddity to them that made him think of those other strange children he saw once at house Gehring.

He gives a light knock to the door frame to announce he's there, though he's sure Ekkehardt's already noticed.]

Figured you'd be here. I saw a memory. Came to return the favor from before and let you know it was yours.

you can set this after seeing rex's memory too if you wanna do that btw

[spelleton]

Did you, now?

Hopefully it wasn't too embarrassing. [ He sounds faintly amused. ] For me, that is. I'd hate to shake your impressions of me as a calm, collected individual.

[ Like he hasn't done enough things for that since coming here, like he even minds that much. He's stiff, but not that stiff. ]

Miiiight just work that in...

[unpocoloco]

[He looks amused at that too.]

Tragically, you still seemed calm and collected as ever. I'll have to catch you at a bad time some other time.

[He's glad to hear Ekkehardt's taking it in stride. It seems that's what they're all trying to do.]

No, it was something else. A long time ago maybe. There was this kid. They were braiding your hair. I think you were still alive then.

[spelleton]

If I still had hair, then I certainly was alive. [ He sort of just. Pulls out a chair and motions for Héctor to sit, because he's not gonna make him stand, that would be weird and impolite. ]

I admit those memories are rather distant to me now...or, at least, I find them crossing my mind less often. I'm not sure if I miss those days or not, frankly.

[ It's more information than he usually gives about himself, or about anything. But he figures he owes it to the man, if just for the inconvenience of seeing such a private moment between him and his daughter.

Besides, it's not often he gets to talk about such things with people who don't know him very well, as he knows them. ]

[unpocoloco]

[He laughs sheepishly.]

Pretty fair point.

[He takes up the offered seat and listens. He gets snippets of people's lives here. He tries to hold what he can. Old habit, maybe.]

It was kind of distant. Far away somehow. I thought it was just me.

[He looks down.]

You've changed a lot, haven't you?

[spelleton]

That's how it is, yes. [ He props his head up on his hand, elbow on the back of his chair, clearly thinking about what to say. ]

Little things remain, of course. But the person I would have grown to be, and the person I am now...they're quite different.

Two possible paths, you might say. [ He holds up two fingers, then puts down one. Then, he lowers his hand completely, letting it rest in is previous position. ] But there's only one I'm able to walk as I am.

[unpocoloco]

[It seems a little sad, to be so cut off from who he used to be that everything is distant. He's sure, by now, it's just a fact of existence for Ekkehardt, but he knows he couldn't bear such a thing himself. Maybe that's why he hasn't changed-- or rather why he hasn't changed completely beyond recognition after everything.

He nods along. He wonders about the Ekkehardt who might have been. He wonders which version of himself the man likes better, even as Ekkehardt explains wanting different would be a moot point. The silence lasts a little longer as he mulls it over.]

Can I... is it alright if I ask... what caused the difference? If it was... a choice or death or your ressurection style or... [The loss of self that comes when the pain grows too overwhelming to handle, like a splintering tree threatening to snap.] ...something else?

[spelleton]

I would say that...death changed me the most. Or, I suppose, everything surrounding it.

[ It's not as if Ekkehardt himself doesn't wonder about these things. But he keeps it at a distance - not because he finds it too painful to bear, but because it's simply how he is. Curious about his own lost threads, but not tangled up in them. ]

There are some things so damaging, so irreversible, that what you're left with isn't the person that you were before it. I wasn't exactly given a choice in the matter. [ His tone is a little wry. ]

The person I once was is part of the person I am now. There are some things I lost then, that can't be regained. But I remain myself, no matter what happens, or how I change.

[ There's a sort of pride, there; a quiet assurance of someone who's completely comfortable in their own (metaphorical) skin. ]

[unpocoloco]

[He's nodding his head again. There are, indeed, a lot of things one can't come back from. Not the same. He was lucky. He's thought it a thousand times despite his bad luck, things could have been so much worse.

The wry tone is met with a rueful smile. Not much choice, no.

But then comes that quiet pride. He's reminded of one of the many reasons he admires this man.]

Have I ever mentioned what an incredibly cool person you are, Ekkehardt?

[Probably.]

[spelleton]

[ That statement seems to throw him completely off balance for a moment. He's been called many things - 'cool' is not usually one of them.

He laughs, a little, clearly surprised. It's not mocking - just fond. ]

It's flattering that you believe I am. Especially coming from you.

[ He thinks well of Héctor, in his own way. ]

[unpocoloco]

[He laughs too.]

Coming from me? I hope that's supposed to be a good thing.

[It sounds like it. He's just not sure what gives him any distinction. And it does sound fond.

Which brings a pang of guilt. He looks down.]

... I saw something else. It wasn't yours, but someone else's memory. The thing was that you were there. It was someone you knew and I... it threw me a bit off guard if I'm honest. I had... a few doubts. But I thought about it and- [His breath catches quietly.] and I trust you.

[He lifts his head back up, smile weak but steady.]

I know, even if it's something I find daunting or terrifying, if you're going in, then you can handle it. You... wouldn't hurt me like that. And I guess I just wanted to say all that too.

[spelleton]

Of course it is. [ He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, his positive feelings for the other man. ] You had very little knowledge of the supernatural world before it was thrust upon you, and still you persisted, against all odds. That speaks to a certain strength of character I find admirable.

[ He's determined, talented, good-hearted - certainly a better man than him, in some ways. All traits he can respect.

He listens to his words - he can guess, he thinks, at what that memory might be, what connection sparks such doubt in him. ]

Well, for what it's worth. I wouldn't blame you if you felt the need to withdraw. And if you want to air your doubts, I wouldn't mind.

[unpocoloco]

[It's such a generous description of his fumbling through. It sounds almost heroic like that, as though he's even remotely like these kids here and all their heart put to the world. But he tried for his girl and that is something. Admiration like that from someone like Ekkehardt is an unbelievable thing.]

No. [He says it softly, shaking his head.]

I don't want to withdraw. [His hands wind together.] When I was that... thing. I couldn't think right. It took my memories, all I felt, and it tried to destroy it all. It made it so everything good felt like a trick or a lie. I couldn't trust anyone. I don't want to feel like that again. I don't want to think that, for some ridiculous reason, anyone would fake so hard just to fool me, trap me in some elaborate ruse just to hurt me. Especially not someone who's come through and been there for me so many times already.

[He laughs again and looks down at his hands.]

Besides, it's not like I don't know or care about some bad people myself. I've already had to question so many things I knew in life just this year, things I never thought I'd have to. If I start doubting you like that, or anybody, I know I'm going to slip right down. I think I'm more afraid of what I'll be then than I am of the unlikely chance that you and some kid are laughing it up over what a fool I am. You're my friend. I trust you. If I falter, I hope you'll forgive me until I get my head back on.