[EVENT] March Memory Madness

[khuimods]

Characters: Everyone!
Date: March 5-9
Location: All around Aifaran
Situation: The Dreaming is a bit enthusiastic about the research at the Aisling Tower. Memories ensue.
Warnings/Rating: Shouldn't need any, but add to subject lines as needed!


Outside the Aisling Tower, the first clue anyone will have that something is wrong is small. Little things: trinkets lost, but fondly remembered, appearing in your hand when you reach for something else. A snatch of song that tugs your heartstrings.

That alone might have been nice. Unfortunately, things escalate quickly.

How did memories get loose on Aifaran?

Science Fair

Well that all went a bit wrong. Researchers at the Aisling Tower sent out a request for volunteers, hoping to get to the root causes of just why Dreamfolk frequently wind up with memory loss. The tests are reasonably painless beyond the occasional blood samples taken and rather tedious questionnaire volunteers must fill out.

And then there’s the machine.

It’s not big or scary looking - just a small, strangely organic looking earpiece linked up to a console used to measure neural oscillations. All very new, high-tech stuff that the researchers just barely control their enthusiasm about. Again, the tests are mostly tedious. Just a lot of sitting around while researchers display pictures, ask questions, have you smell a variety of scents, and other things to spark various mental associations. Though side-effects may include dizziness and nausea afterwards. It’s still a little bit too ‘mad science’ for some, even if the researchers involved don’t even cackle maniacally even once.

But as all things of this nature must go, something takes a turn for the weird.

Memories On Display

The Dreaming takes an interest, insofar as much as an omnipresent force of nature can be assumed to take an interest - maybe it just reacted strangely to the mental probing of the Dreamfolk. The how, for now, is not important.

The immediate problem is that memories are running rampant in the city - and not just from volunteers for the little research project, but also any Dreamfolk who come in contact with them. It starts off small - little things appearing in and out of your peripheral vision such as an old toy or a beloved pet. Maybe the echo of friendly laughter, or the incomplete form of a first love’s smile. These flashes of memory only grow more potent, however, as entire scenarios begin to play out for you and those in your proximity - just as vividly as you remember them. And just as accurately as you perceive them.

---

OOC Notes: Your characters will have the option of seeing memories play out, and/or being drawn into a mind-share memory experience-- basically, however you want to play it, the Dreaming will accommodate! It's also more than possible that the Dreaming will oblige if someone really wants to show someone else something specific-- but there may always be a little more than bargained for.

There is a specific starter for shenanigans at the Aisling Tower but the rest of the post is open!

Please address questions regarding the event to the monthly agenda post.

Comments

Aisling Tower

[khuimods]

At the Tower, researchers are — almost immediately — trying to figure out how to fix the problem they’ve caused. Unfortunately the Dreaming has its own ideas; it seems like every potential solution itself is a dream. Like some memories are just determined to be played out. To that end, memory ripples stronger in the Tower, which is playing havoc with the machinery and magic being employed to reverse things. It’s hard to make things work when tens of different memories are jamming up the works.

This may be one of those things for which the only cure is time, but that’s little comfort to the Dreamfolk afflicted.

[necrocabbage]

Trahearne has been jumpy ever since the snatches of memory started appearing. Once he realized that the phenomenon was more widespread than he expected, he tried to steel himself against it. He had once followed the Pale Tree through visions of the future, and he tried to tell himself that this was similar. Visions could be dangerous, but they were still lacking true substance.

He completely underestimated the impact of everything he'd seen and done over the course of his life. Sometimes the memories were of home, of a city full of plants built on the boughs of a great tree. Sometimes the memories were of a bleak landscape studded with dying coral, or worse, a dark jungle where thorn-studded vines writhed in the shadows. To say nothing of the creatures he thought he saw...

Trahearne keeps his regular schedule the first couple of days, but after that he leaves the Bridge entirely, too fearful of inflicting his memories on people that weren't prepared to see them. He doesn't leave the city, but starts hanging near the outskirts, finding parks to nap in when he's too weary to keep going without sleep.

[OOC: Trahearne's memories range from beautiful to horrifying, so if you have a preference for either one, let me know!]

[afoolsgold]

When Trahearne wakes in his chosen park, the memory that surrounds him is not his own.

The Fool is sitting in the grass not far from him... and ahead of them within a forest glade are the massive shapes of stone dragons--all of them poised as though asleep. At least, they appear to be carved of stone, but with such lifelike detail to their scales, their snouts, the membranes of their wings, that at any moment one of them might rise up and take flight.

A short distance away is the Fool again, albeit a much younger--and paler--version of himself, with an ivory complexion and hair like bits of wispy white tule that might float away from his head at any moment. He is at work using the magic in his Skill-touched fingertips, carving details into the side of a stone dragon with a girl atop its back.

Watching his past self at this task, the Fool has one hand clasped softly against his lips, his brows bent in a soft, pained frown.

before he leaves the bridge

[corundrum]

Padparadscha is coming to spend a lot of time around the Bridge while this chaos is going on. There are things they'd rather not share, and even if they're not openly upset or overly protective about them like some others, they're still going to do what they can to avoid passing their own memories on around the city at large.

It's not helping all that much, though. The very last strains of a memory are disappearing as they lie in a deceptively casual pose on a chair in the common room, watching themselves in some kind of short surgical garment listen to a strangely glowing man describe a procedure just completed.

Their face betrays nothing, but Padparadscha's gaze does slip to meet Trahearne as their own memory fades, expecting one of his to take over. It seems to be the way of things since that experiment went wrong.

[eyeinfusion]

As it turns out, Judai is fond of napping under trees, but the park he heads to today seems to be occupied. Which shouldn't be a suprise, it's a park, but he was a little lost in thought. And possibly seeing images of what seems to be coral from time to time, which he knows aren't his.

"Whoop! Didn't see you there." A slight pause, and then he adds, "You okay?"

[purered]

One moment he was browsing potential storefronts for his little business venture, the next he was thrust into an all too vivid vision of a city of plants, where the homes are grown, not built, and spots of bio-luminescence hang from the canopy like fairy lights, filling the air with a sweet, floral fragrance.

Klaus is momentarily taken aback - but only momentarily. This isn't his first rodeo, so to speak, and he's more awestruck than anything.

This is a paradise for a man whose deepest passion is gardening.

"Is this your world?" Klaus asked as memories of sylvari walked past. They could only be Trahearne's people, after all.

[darkwingsofkilvas]

Naesala's reaction to memories running rampant might be a little unusual. He's just plain annoyed. It was one thing to have little snippets bothering him, but once the full-sized memories started appearing, it made the laguz downright snippy at times, never sure when some specter of his past might show up to ruin his day.

He still tries to go about his business, but it's not as easy like this. Naesala secludes himself half the time, either brooding on rooftops or taking off for a flight around the city when he's shown a memory that agitates him. Still, it's impossible for him to avoid everyone - especially since he refuses to give up on cultivating certain contacts among the locals.

[OOC: Naesala's memories are more of a grab bag. You can request things if you like but I'll mostly be pulling out a variety here.]

memory gacha away!

[colonelnope]

The problem with trying to avoid things constantly is that then you run into other people trying to avoid things.

Eve's sidling down the street, hoping job-hunting is innocuous enough an expedition to avoid more memory manifestation, when she catches sight of a familiar set of wings attached to a more or less familiar person. She's taken a few steps that way and lifted a hand in a sort-of friendly wave before she remembers that two Dreamfolk in the same place are probably going to be more attractive to Dreaming memories, not less.

Not her smartest tactical move.

warning on prompt C for basically vore

[consumeation]

A

[The buildings of Aifaran slowly appear more beautiful and wondrous than could ever be provided by imagination. At the very peak of their beauty, screams echo, the sound of fighting in the distance. A terrible fire rages, burning every last building to the ground. You are surrounded by flames, which feel far too real to be memories. Terror, utter helplessness, and absolute despair overcome you.

Kei is also here, clearly feeling the same things.]

B

[What appears to be Kei sits on a bench, reading, as he's approached by a teenage boy. A young woman stands a little distance away, a white target on her forehead.

"You!" The boy approaches Kei. The girl exclaims, "Kei Fukuide!" and attempts to approach, but a laser fires from above to directly in front of her.

"Laiha Toba!" Kei looks up from his book, looking in her direction. "The sniper has you in his sights. And if you do manage to escape somehow... He's been ordered to open fire on the innocent people here." Laiha goes to draw her sword, and another laser beam cuts so close that it cuts off her hair tie. The boy exclaims, "Laiha!"

"I won't kill her yet. I need you to pay attention to the discussion, after all. Nineteen years old, eh? Time really flies. I remember leaving you at the observatory like it was yesterday."

"What do you mean?!" The boy goes closer to Kei, angrily.

"Before I kill you, I wanted to tell you. Nineteen years ago, I was the one who delivered you to that observatory." Kei starts laughing at the boy's shocked expression. "An excellent reaction. If an artist were here, I'd love to see that idiotic expression captured in portrait.

"Just what are you?"

"You should really be more worried about what you are, boy. My objective is to gather the activated Ultra Capsules. But the Little Stars needed to activate them will only transfer them to an Ultraman. That was why I proposed an idea to Belial-sama. Why not create someone to aid in the activation of the capsules? ]


[The real Kei had tried to escape this memory, but it follows him. Finally, he gives up, letting it play out with downcast eyes.]


["I have come here today to retrieve your Ultra Capsules. Thanks to your friends' interference, it's become a more urgent matter. It may not restore him to his full glory, but it will be enough to allow Belial-sama to move to a new base of operations. Now, hand them over."

"No way!" the boy exclaims.

"If you don't, your friend will be shot." There are the sounds of fighting from above. Laiha runs off.

"Tough luck," says the boy. Kei laughs.

"It is unfortunate. If you had handed the Ultra Capsules over, this peaceful town wouldn't have been reduced to rubble."

The boy exclaims, "Stop!" and runs at Kei only to be knocked back by the darkness that emanates from Kei's hand.

"From the moment I stole the Risers and Capsules from the Land of Light, you and I were destined to fight. Belial-sama, grant me your power." Kei's eyes flash red as an aura of darkness surrounds him. "King Joe. Zetton. Now, I wil mark the end."

The image of Kei becomes a giant monster, and begins rampaging throughout the city... not actually doing any damage, because it's a memory.]


[The real Kei remains where he stands, head turned away.]

C - warning: part of Kei gets eaten, but it's not too terrible because Ultraman is still a kid's show

[Kei lies defeated on the ground, dressed in all black, eyes yellow, furious. Facing him are a teenage boy, a young woman, and a man in a suit. A woman dressed all in white approaches, picking something near Kei up off the ground, and then walks to Kei's other side.

"Arie?" Kei stares incredulously.

"Did you really think you could beat my son?" says Arie, before plunging her arm into Kei's back. Grasping something from within Kei which glows bright green, she pulls it out as Kei screams, his eyes emitting yellow light and then returning to their normal black as he collapses. She lifts up the green glowing mass, drinking it down. Her chest glows the same green, and there's a flash of darkness around her.

"I have been by your side all along." The darkness surrounding her returns, her voice overlaid by a much deeper man's voice.

"Belial-sama..." Barely supporting himself, Kei looks at Arie/Belial, both looking and sounding as if he might cry.

"Didn't you think it was strange? Even though I was gone, you were still able to Fusion Rise." Belial leaves Arie's body, and she drops to the ground. "I was giving you the power to do so. All this time... But that ends now. Without your Sturm organs, you'll be dead in days." At those words, Kei looks down. "You've served your purpose." Laughing, Belial flies away into the sky.

"You've... finally chosen me." Kei looks up to where Belial flew away. Half laughing, half sobbing, he pushes himself to his feet, gesturing dramatically and staggering while facing the three who've been standing there this whole time. "Do you see?! Belial-sama has returned! You're all finished! He's going to conquer the universe! Belial-sama's reign has now begun!" When he stops talking he lets out an extended noise, somewhere between emotional and physical pain.

"This is what you wanted?" asks the girl. "He's just using you!"

"What do you people know?" Kei slowly lowers his arms, sounding tired and deeply sad. "I've become one with my master." A tear wells up in one eye. "What greater joy could there be?" Even as he says those words, even as he's forcing a smile, the tear falls.]



[The real Kei, unable to escape this memory, is slumped across a building with his hand over his eyes. It's not a hard guess that he's crying.]

D - wildcard

[Other memories can happen too!]



[[ ooc: If you'd rather a mindshare or some other slight alteration to one of these, let me know! ]]

c. plz he's seen worse

[iseeall]

[Leo didn't want to think about this, and why it was happening. It seemed to be not just an isolated incident, but with his eyes he could easily tell that these were only memories.

Only extremely realistic, horribly traumitizing memories.

The subject of this memory he'd seen in flashes around the city before, but never went up to him, and Leo was starting to slightly regret that. If he had this shit to deal with, maybe he actually needed a friend.

Holding his bibiru Michella gently but close to his chest, he walked forward to the real Kei slowly, in case he accidentally snuck up on the guy.]

Hey, I'm another of the dreamfolk too. Do you want me to help you find another place to be? This one doesn't seem....safe. You can hold my bibiru too.

warning on B for suicidal ideation, or gem equivalent

[corundrum]

[A: Dreaming Bridge]

[Padparadscha hadn't taken up the request for volunteers, considering they had their doubts about the scientists' ability to make something like that work right for them. They've been looking in on the city's science on occasion, but haven't yet gotten to asking some of the things they've been considering asking of the scientists here - however, they have been reading some of the writings on local science, as they're doing in a Dreaming Bridge common room right now.

They're still musing on what the experiments might be aiming for when they reach for a very flat knot from last month they've been using as a bookmark, only glancing over at the last moment to make sure they've got it.

But it's not a knot they see - instead, it's a pair of metal scissors, like a doctor might use.

Their hand pulls back abruptly, and they move their book aside to see...a knot, once again. The image of the scissors is gone, and Padparadscha offers a somewhat wan smile to anyone close enough in the vicinity to have seen that slip.]

Ah, I must need a little more sunlight. [Their voice is very slightly on edge, though.]

--

[B: Anywhere]

[Padparadscha can hear them long before any memory breaks through - a faint bubble of teasing, or the professional tone of someone studying their condition. If they'd known what it was leading to, they would have endeavoured to be somewhere more private, but as it is, it's a street in the middle of the city that's swept away, to be replaced with the inside of some kind of large stone building.

The ceiling is high, like a palace, and the windows are huge to allow for sunlight to pour in. The image is hazy for a moment, but sharpens to show the details - a long shelf full of a variety of scientific, but simple-looking instruments, a large wooden box on the floor, fragments of recently shaved-down gemstone on the windowsill. Leaning over the box are two people, one with short, shining aqua hair and golden arms, and one with two-toned gold and red hair and a white labcoat. The latter looks like the significantly more worried of the two, despite clearly being the elder.

Abruptly, a shape sits up out of the box - the hair makes it difficult to mistake as anyone but Padparadscha, and they stretch their arms with a loud yawn as the other two stare. It's only when they notice the newly inserted gems in their torso that they pause and give a little laugh, looking down at themselves instead.

"Well, well. Would you look how speckled I am now."

The one in the coat immediately leans forward, asking how they feel. The answer is bright, and then Padparadscha asks how long it's been.

"231 years, 11 months and one day."

Even Padparadscha looks surprised at that information, and the way they call it a stunning new record might be lighthearted, but it's still a little preoccupied.

"I operated on you 300,030 times..."

If there's one thing in brutally sharp relief in the memory, it's the doctor - the regret and shame in Rutile's voice, the way they call themselves a failure even after Padparadscha makes for another lighthearted response.

"If I can't even fix the misfortune that has befallen you, then what good does my practice serve!?"

As Padparadscha laughs softly in the memory, the Padparadscha present now doesn't notice the way their fists clench slightly, even as their face eases into a relaxed, but nonetheless false smile.]

Maybe I should have asked then, huh? [If they'd just asked to sleep forever then, they wouldn't have to worry about what might have befallen Rutile as a result of Phos' rash decisionmaking on Padparadscha's behalf. Things would have been simpler, somehow, if Rutile had been able to give up on Padparadscha's existence.]

--

[C: Dreaming Bridge, Breakwater Wing]

[The Dreaming Bridge is only "more private" than the city in the strictest sense, but Padparadscha doesn't want a repeat of earlier at all. Nonetheless, they're in the common area rather than their room - there's a chance one of the other residents might want it for privacy, which runs the risk of just making things worse for both parties than improving anything.

It does also mean that there's very much the risk of a memory appearing from one party or the other if anyone approaches, or is even passing through. Though they're leaning far back against the arm of their chair as if relaxed and casual, they're alert for that particular possibility.]

[[This is the wildcard prompt - feel free to request dark/light memory content or have your character share a memory instead.]]

B [cw for continued suicidal ideation]

[bestofthevein]

"Asked what?"

Dumb question. He knows the answer already.

Padparadscha's wish echoes so acutely a wish Kit had expressed to himself, if never to anyone else. How much better the lives around him would have been if he'd just died in the Deep Roads like he was supposed to. If he'd never survived to touch them in the first place.

He can't remember that clearly what he was doing before he found himself awash in Padparadscha's memory of this moment, but it hardly seems to matter. He watches the scene play out in front of them, his throat and chest tight. He turns to look up at his peculiar friend, unconvinced by that mask of a smile. He shakes his head, wanting to speak, to say something else, but the words won't come to him.

[choseanidiot]

The first little flickers of memory - the smell of the Cloud Sea, the brief impression of a tall body next to his, a hand in his hair - are greeted with as much nostalgia as annoyance. He feels like he's being taunted, here. So while he gets a little more wary about noises or smells as the days pass, most of it doesn't set Rokuta much on edge, honestly.

A
Rokuta's just walking through the Dreaming Bridge's orientation center when the nearby, slightly droning buzz of conversation between two attendants tug on his attention... Makes his thought wander just a bit, and in answer, surroundings flicker, and then expand.

The space around is now rising far above as well as to the sides, intricate patterns on the high ceiling, polished pillars around the edges and large, widely spaced windows. None of them look to be open, but there's still a faint smell of ocean in the air, while a group of people are in full prostrate in front of a raised platform and the throne on top of it.

The throne is occupied by a black-haired, handsome man, doing very little to disguise his indolent, bored expression as he listens to the report of the woman at the forefront of the group in front of the throne. Beside him, looking somehow even more bored and even yawning, is Rokuta. Both of them, despite their position, are wearing less elaborate outfits than the group arrayed below them. Stifling a sigh, the Rokuta sitting beside the throne looks up and meets the clear-eyed gaze of the man beside him, cocking an eyebrow.

The memory melts away for the proper present, and Rokuta, who'd been standing silently watching the scene with a vaguely amused look on his face on his face, rolls his eyes and looks up. "What?"

B
It's a comment in passing as he walks down a street - Do whatever you can, okay? - that triggers it this time, and Rokuta grimaces, twisting away from the pretty young woman with a quietly beseeching expression on her face, looking at a version of Rokuta who seems a few years younger than he is now, shorter, more wide-eyed.

"Do whatever you can for En," she says, reaching out to brush a few strands of golden hair off a tiny shoulder, "you will grow swiftly, Enki, and then you will choose an emperor. You'll be Taiho, then, and return to En and serve the emperor as the Saiho and save our kingdom." There's a tiny, hopeful smile on her face, which freezes when the tiny boy twists away from her, a stormy expression on his face. Rokuta, watching, looks somewhere between frustrated and tired.

"I won't!" the memory version yells as he storms off, "do you really think an emperor can save a kingdom? Can save it's people?"

Rokuta scowls and takes a step back, the voices growing faint in a memory that's still playing out, and then simply stops, the street back to normal.

C
Wildcard option; can be sitting on the back of a huge, three-tailed wolf, flying over the green fields below; standing at the railing of a balcony watching what looks like a sea... except there's definitely land and buildings, far below just visible; or just walking down a very regular, modern-day street in Japan, if that's something you'd recognise, a frustrated sense of being pressed for time permeating the moment.

B

[corundrum]

"Sounds like a complicated question, huh?"

Padparadscha's tone is slightly more subdued than usual out of respect for the various problems people are dealing with, though still fairly upbeat. They're not going to lose their composure any more than they're forced to - they can hold on to that much, at least.

Still, it seems like this little one was dealing with a complicated issue even from so young.

[spoilsfun]

A. A Flash of Memory
Conan hadn't volunteered for the memory project. In fact he'd done everything he could to avoid it. The inside of his head belonged to him, and he was not interested in allowing anyone else to poke at it.

The first flashes of memory are nearly unnoticeable. The sound of sirens in the distance, almost too softly to be heard. An achingly familiar smile, glimpsed for a moment at the corner of his eye.

And then the smell of smoke and the sound of a single piano. He freezes in recognition and more than a little horror.

This memory.... It was the reminder of one of his greatest failures.


B. The Great Detective Made Small
Caught up with aiming the camera in his hands to record as much evidence as possible, Shinichi barely manages to catch the sound of soft footsteps coming from behind him. He turns, only to meet the eyes of a tall man in black with long silver hair. Frightening eyes, he notices. The eyes of a killer. As the man pulls out a bar of metal from his coat, Shinichi turns and tries to run. He had to get out of there. He had to get the evidence of this meeting to the police.

But he fails. He is struck on the head before he can get more than a few steps away. His camera falls to the ground out of numb hands as he collapses to the ground. Already semi-conscious, he still manages to catch the few words exchanged as a second man in black approaches.

“This brat followed you?” A gesture from the newcomer towards his coat. Most likely for a gun.

“Stop. Cops are still snooping around because of the recent fuss.”

“Then what should we do?”

“Let’s use this. This new poison developed by the Organization.” Flipping open a small box of pills, the taller man in black pulls Shinichi up by a grip in his hair, and forces a pill into the back of his mouth, followed by a vial of water. He chokes, but can’t manage to avoid swallowing. “They won’t be able to find any traces of poison.This is the stuff for the perfect crime. Although I heard this was a prototype that had not been tested on humans before.”

They push him back to the ground and turn to leave. He catches one last phrase.

“Farewell, Great Detective.”

As their footsteps disappear, he begins to cough as the pill starts to take effect. One second, two, and he convulses as pain like he had never felt before starts to overwhelm him. He screams, as steam starts to rise from his body..

His blood, his bones…. It was like they were melting.


C. That Time Conan Went Sky-diving Without a Parachute
At first glance, the room might have been a restaurant or a lounge. But a glance out the windows that line the rooms would reveal that this was an airship, traveling through the sky with the ground hundreds of feet below.

And something had gone terribly wrong. Midway through its first voyage, and the airship had been hijacked by the Red Cat gang of terrorists, Even here, individuals in black military gear and masks were scattered among the passengers in the lounge. Along with the other kids, Conan had been herded into a space near the window. They were completely surrounded by the terrorists and separated from any adult who might be able to help.

The leader holds out a small box, which had clearly been a functioning bomb until someone had precisely cut the wires and disarmed it. "Did you do this?"

Conan steps forward out of the group, showing no fear as he cranes his neck up to glare at the leader. "I did that. They had nothing to do with it."

The leader seems amused for a moment. "Such courage."

And without saying anything further he picks the boy up by the back of his collar, and tosses him out the window.

D. Choose Your Own

B

[powertotearer]

Eiji wasn't exactly sure that what he was watching was a memory, if only because it was pretty scary to watch. But after failing to interact with anything, he figured it out and started looking around for whoever the memory belonged to.

[invisibill]

A: His Molecules All Got Re-arranged
Despite his extra-curricular activities, Danny was not the most observant kid around. Somehow failing to pick up on any of the flashes of memory, he doesn't realize that anything is wrong until he is already being swept into his first full scale memory.

He was standing in a rather futuristic looking laboratory. Beakers filled with some strange glowing substance sit out on steel tables. One of the walls of the laboratory has a large circle shaped hole cut into it, which is filled with strange machinery and wiring.

He casts a glance back at the two friends that accompanied him, even as he zip up his hazmat suit. One of them looked nervous.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

Danny waves a hand. “It’ll be fine. You saw how upset Mom and Dad were when it didn’t turn on. I’m just going to check real quick to see if there was just a loose wire or something. You know how they miss the obvious answer sometimes.” He turns to face the machine with a grin. “Besides… I’ve always wanted to see it work. Who knows what kinds of amazing things are waiting just on the other side of this portal.

He walks into the portal slowly, taking his time to look around. But in his distraction he missed seeing a loose cord on the floor. He trips over it, and his hand lands on a green button. As the portal rapidly powers up and punches through dimensions, Danny only has time to make the horrified realization that his Dad had put the on switch inside the machine.

As he vanishes inside a flash of bright green light, he screams.


B. Human
He is pinned up against the wall of a classroom, caught in the grip of a shadow with jagged claws and red eyes.

“Look at you,” she hissed at him. He makes a desperate grab for his thermos, but the ghost easily knocks it away from him. “What are you? A ghost trying to fit in with humans? Or some creepy little boy with creepy little powers.

He desperately tries to get out her grip with no effect. “Both! Neither! I don’t know!

“You’re a freak! Not a ghost, not a boy. Who could care for a thing like you?”


C. Choose Your Own

A

[justsomeshrimp]

Lobco had simply been walking around Aifaran, trying to get a feel for the city. It's what she had been occupying most of her days with, but needless to say it's much to big to cover entirely in even the three or so weeks she had been here. Despite all her reservations and the skepticism she still felt, the shrimp had to admit that thus far most everything was checking out.

Emphasis on the word most.

What had be relieving was that things had been...peaceful. That was something that had been absent from her life for a long, long time.

Today was the first hiccup, and she had a moment of panic as she was swept up by some unknown force and dropped into...a lab? She looked frantically around at the foreign and highly advanced looking equipment before starting as she saw Danny and....when she saw him again? Her brow furrowed in confusion as she looked between both of them, his friends, then back between the two similar humans.

She was about to ask what was going on before the sound of screaming destroys all other thoughts and her mouth goes to her eyes as she shields them from the bright light.

open; cw for blood, mentions of death

[colonelnope]

So. Memories. Really not her favorite TV broadcast.

A | sounds and sights

She hasn't made up her mind about what's the most annoying part yet. Familiar sounds follow her, apparently now audible to other people. An echo of gunfire; the sound of a distant storm; swords that ring against each other. A crackly recording crooning what are little girls made of, which makes Eve especially twitchy.

The weirdest and most unsettling occurrence is the bloodstain. Of course it appears right in the middle of talking to someone, crimson welling up and staining the fabric over her heart. It's unsettling for everyone, to say the least.

She's fine. But the blood remembers, and the Dreaming remembers.

B | viiiiisions

The sound effects were one thing. The first time Eve has a vision of the Loom of Fate, she flings her hands up and turns right around to leave the room the loom and its environs have manifested in.

This doesn't help.

Nevertheless Eve's preferred method for dealing with memory visions is to walk away from them, leaving deserted ideas swirling into nothingness behind her. Unfortunately, more than half the time, the vision just comes with her, and she's left with her arms folded, scowling at things she is completely over but does not need to see again, thank you.

[ooc; if you want a memory just tag in for B and I'll spin one up at random. or in specific if we've discussed it.]

A.

[spoilsfun]

At the sound of gunshots, Conan immediately takes off running. Not away from them, but towards the source. He slows his pace slightly as he nears the center, searching through the crowd for anyone suspicious-looking.

Open and closed

[powertotearer]

Open

When Eiji volunteered for the memory research (in exchange for a new pair of underwear...you probably don't want to know), he asked that they try to avoid some certain memories that were a little less than pleasant.

Well, they tried. Kind of.

For the most part, the memories escaping from Eiji are fairly light fluff--being around his friends, dressing up in silly costumes, or an embarrassing moment involving him, his underwear, and a squadron of police officers responding to a scene.

But the unpleasant memories are also around--battles, loss, and trauma. They're not things he tries to dwell on, but they're harder to shake, sometimes.

[OOC: Choose between either a good memory or a bad memory! Note that if you do choose a bad one, I'd like you to fill out his permissions post, since some involve memories of death and war--obviously, I'll warn in the subject line. But if you don't fill it out and still want a bad memory, I'll just pick an unrelated bad memory for you to see.]

Closed to Ankh

As much as he tries to pretend everything's okay, Eiji's still bothered by his last meeting with Ankh, and the way he seemed to just brush aside Eiji's feelings.

The fact that his and others' memories are leaking all over the place wears him down a lot, not to mention the new worries about his talent and of course, turning into a Greeed and losing his senses.

He's delivering re-freshened food to a soup kitchen when he senses Ankh's presence not too far away. It takes him a moment to figure out how to respond, but he really doesn't even have the energy to be mad right now.

"Sorry. No ice cream here."

Re: Open and closed

[notsogreedy]

He looks up, wary and closed off. He's pretty sure he has reason enough for that with Eiji in general recently, not to mention all this weirdness with memories.

"I have plenty of that already anyway." Considering it's what he asked for in exchange for participating in this stupid exercise. If he'd known it would go this badly he wouldn't have, but at least he got something out of it.

dark night of the soul

[bestofthevein]

a. near the Dreaming Bridge

There's something a little ironic--and poignant--about a casteless dwarf whose family name and identity had been stripped from the memories by the Shaperate to suddenly be awash in them. Memories, that is.

The grounds outside the lodgings nearest him has changed dramatically; he stands in the middle of Dust Town, an Orzammar slum, and watches with an uncharacteristically blank expression as a small child wearing only rags curls up as close as he can get to a dying fire, one that reeks of garbage. (His dark skin does nothing to hide the welts and bruises of a recent beating.)

Ancestors, had he really been that small, once upon a time?

b. on the skytrain

This is probably the worst place this could have happened, because all the locals--Dreamfolk and others alike--are trapped here in the train car with Kit as this particular dream unfolds in front of him. It's not a particularly immersive one, but what does that matter when there is a dead dwarf lying in the isle, covered in blood and darkspawn viscera?

Kit had returned Tad to the Stone over a decade ago, had thought that time and distance would have dulled the detail of his face from his memory. He was wrong.

Ignoring the startled sounds of those around him, Kit starts out of his seat as though to go to him, but stops short, because his younger self, battered and bloody from battle, has beaten him to it. So he stands, and stares, a tight knot in his throat while the train rattles along on its rails.

b

[lasergrenades]

Pepper doesn't strictly have to take the Skytrain to work - she can fly, after all, or walk when she feels like it - but it's cool. This trip, however, is turning into something a little more nightmarish.

Most of the passengers are startled and freaked out, drawing away from the scene to avoid the edges of what the Dreaming has conjured. Pepper moves towards it, slipping through the crowd that's trying to get to the opposite end of the train. Her mouth twists unhappily when she reaches Kit, seeing the young dwarf who resembles him and the obvious pain in both the past and present versions. Whoever the dead dwarf is, he's important. A friend, maybe more, it doesn't really matter.

"Hey," Pepper says softly, stopping just out of arm's reach in case Kit is reactive. Concern is evident on her face. "Hey, look at me, please. You've seen this already. You don't have to go through it again."

[watchmewhippersnapper]

A. - Trinket Lost, but Not Forgotten

[She hadn't even realized it was gone until she'd found it again.]

[Just outside the Tower, Wendy had been reaching down to pick up something shiny...something that had caught the corner of her eye, momentary drawing her attention away from the entrance. She seemed confused for a moment as she picked up the golden object. Turning it over in her fingers before her eyes widened, and she looked to her left hand. Which was suddenly bare.]

How did...?

[Her heart raced a little as she slowly slipped the wedding band back on her ring finger. Testing to see if it had slid off. But, no--it even took effort to get it over her knuckles. Her fingers no larger or smaller than they had been for the last countless years she'd worn it.]

[There was a moment of solemn solitude where she stared at the object. Seeing a particular face reflected in its shiny surface. One which remained polished over time. How could she have noticed it gone? The weight should have been an ever familiar presence, and yet...]

[Clenching her fist tightly, she rested it over her heart as she stared up and towards the Tower. Eyes narrowing.]

I don't know who's responsible...but, so help me, when I find out? They're getting the biggest earful of their lives....

B. - THE WITNESS OBJETS!

The memory flickered into view. A courtroom. Tensions were high. The air reeked of desperation. And the sounds of a child's sobs echoed into the air.

"Isn't that what a superhero does?! Defeat the Villain..." A young boy was literally standing atop the witness podium, rubbing his eyes as he sobbed in between words. A green hat thrown to the ground. Cheeks red. "...and save the Steel Samurai! The Steel Samurai would never murder anyone! He's a hero who fights for what's right!"

His words echoing into the air, even amongst the judge's gavel banging, it was clear the boy had the attention of every adult in the room. Including Wendy, who was sitting in the witness stands.

...but not for long.

As the bailiff attempted to restrain the distraught child, a young man in a blue suit and spiky hair started for him, only to be pulled back by Wendy herself.

"Whippersnappers!" She hissed, dragging him back to the defendant's box, where his assistant was waiting. When either of them tried to speak, she shushed them and pulled something out of her uniform top: "Just take this."

It was a photograph. One she quickly slammed down on the table for them to observe.

"A photograph of the accident five years ago. Poor Hammer accidentally caused the death of his opposite number while filming. What's worse, a paparazzi caught it on film. " Glancing up, she sent a sideways glare towards a veiled woman across the room. "And she was the one who swept it all under the rug."

Realization was slowly dawning on the young lawyer. The final piece of the puzzle. The one he needed to...if not solve the case, then keep the trial going long enough to do so. Thanks to Wendy Oldbag, of all people.

"Got it? The rest is up to you...."

B

[eyeinfusion]

That's exactly what a superhero does.

[Judai looks around for the likely owner of this memory, and finally spots someone he saw in it.]

Ma'am! Was that you?

[He sounds vaguely more cheerful addressing her than when he was muttering to the air.]

Seven Heads for Seven Sins | Closed to Enki

[redlightgreenlight]

Sitting on the beach seemed like a good idea at the time, far from the tower that seemed to be more off than normal. Valdis wasn’t fond of the research, messing with the Dreaming had never gone well in her experience. But apparently the beach wasn’t quite far enough.

It fell dark, the sun vanishing into the memory of another plane entirely. Black fog swirled around a dimly lit, transparent barrier. Seven pairs of furious, red eyes, belonging to a gigantic, seven headed serpent, moved in the darkness. The serpent slammed itself into the barrier, hissing when it was repelled, but immediately threw itself against again. Vibrant cracks appeared along the thin surface.

“Stop.”

The voice was so familiar, the scene even more so, except this time Valdis was simply an observer. That fact, however, didn’t help.

The serpent answered with a hiss, whipping around and shattering the barrier of light into nothing with its tail. The white wolf behind the barrier cowered, lacking any fight, any sense of self-preservation. A fact she only knew because she had lived it. The draconic creature screeched with delight, heads snapping forward, barely missing the wolf as it clumsily dodged the attacks. Its tail came around, swiping the feet out from under its prey. One head darted forward, fangs closing on the wolf’s haunches, dragging her further from protection. The wolf’s head snapped around as it bit at the serpent’s nose, drawing thick, black blood. Furious, it lifted her from the ground and dropped her. She yelped as she struck earth again, and the snake watched in amusement, allowing her to drag herself a few yards away before striking again.

Valdis didn’t want to watch this anymore, the different vantage point was almost more painful than the memory itself. At least living it meant she could have done something. She closed her eyes, but it seemed that the Dreaming was done messing with her, for the sound of waves crashed back in and the sun broke the darkness, driving away the bitter memory.

[choseanidiot]

The beach had seemed like a... more or less safe place to be to Rokuta as well, even if he had seen a memory that, by now, was more bittersweet than anything else. But no one else had seen that, so he'd just gathered himself and continued his stroll, spotting Valdis and changing his course a little.

Then the sun literally disappeared, and Rokuta stopped, realising what was happening. It was just a memory, and yet the complete, smothering malicious intent of the entity in the memory was almost enough to pull Yokuhi from his shadow and make Rokuta back off, the faintest smell of old, dried blood in the air.

Then it was gone, and he blinked. Walked over and sat down beside her, but didn't immediately speak up.

"... Was that what you meant?" He might have started with "what was that?" but something from their original conversation tugged on his thoughts, back when she'd said that as long as she was herself, no one had anything to fear and turned it into a different but certainly related question.

Loving Him was Red | Closed to Devin

[redlightgreenlight]

This memory came softer than the last, slipping in almost unnoticed as Valdis walked around the outskirts of the city, still trying to avoid the tower.

I don't normally dream.

She turned at the sound of her own voice. Another memory seemed to have caught up with her, yet this one was so different, still painful, but in a very different way, because the pain came with equal amounts of joy.

Dreams are a gift to humanity, to people whose souls are complete and unbroken.

She looked around, half hoping the memory would end there, half hoping that he might actually appear.

And yet, here you are. Dreaming. Funny how we surprise ourselves sometimes, huh?"

There it was. It seemed like forever since she had heard his voice, and in a way, it had been. But he still wasn’t here.

You care for kids, and now you're having dreams. Pretty good for someone who's soul is supposed to be damaged.

She was running now, chasing after the voice, suddenly all she wanted was to see him again, even if he wasn’t really there. Just a glimpse at the least.

Why would I challenge you when you imply that I might not be as broken as Malicant claimed? As most of the beings on my own world claim?

It was her voice again and she knew, she knew, what was coming next. She turned a corner, still praying to catch a glimpse of what she was hearing.

"You just struck me as the kind of woman who can't take a compliment.

There. She could see it now, growing clearer with each word. If only things could go back.

Besides, I don't exactly think it's worth caring what anything you have to call a 'being' has to say.

He had been right. He still was. He always was, no matter how much time passed. This garden was the first she had seen, or perhaps the first within the city that she had noticed. But at least it was empty for this. Valdis stopped short, watching as she saw herself and him, as they had interacted in the Dreaming so long ago.

Funny thing she had said before crossing over to him. I used to never care what others thought of me. Now I find that there are people whose opinions do matter.

Then she had kissed him, just on the cheek, but it didn’t matter. It had been the beginning of something she hadn’t known before. Something beautiful and irreplaceable. The scene faded and she sank to the ground, not realizing that there were tears. Valdis couldn’t remember if she had properly mourned. She had buried his sword, but she couldn’t actually remember if she had ever cried over what she had lost. Yet she wasn't sure that these tears were from sorrow.

[annihilist]

Oh, nine hells.

It wasn't as though Devin wandered the city in search of Valdis, but they seemed to run into each other with some frequency. Perhaps it was because they had similar habits - with memories running amok, he wanted to be as far from that damned tower as he could manage. Too much of his past was filled with trauma, and it had already been seen by more people than it should have.

He only understood what he was seeing when he spotted Valdis - present Valdis, not the tail end of the memory, and he'd only come here because he heard her voice. What she told him at the festival, about the man she loved-- shit. This was a private moment and he'd accidentally stumbled into it.

Torn between staying and going, Devin decided that being honest about what he saw was the better choice. Slowly so as not to startle her, he drew nearer. Softly: "Hey. Are you alright?"

Long Live the King | Eve and Open

[redlightgreenlight]

The bodies of horses and men lay strewn around a moor, the grass muddied and broken from battle. Rain fell, light and quick, the dark grey sky lending further misery to the scene. White fog swirled around figures in the distance, a woman with dark hair and a black blade hanging from her hip, flanked by two, jet black, gigantic wolves whose eyes flashed red in the night. The wolves moved ahead, scenting the dead, moving from corpse to corpse, as if searching for someone in particular.

The woman moved more slowly, appearing to not even notice the bodies she stepped over, headed in a singular direction. A worn standard leaned against a great charger, its end buried in the mud as if the humans had tried to keep it raised. The woman made her way over, kneeling by the figure trapped beneath his horse.

Long live the king. She said softly, placing her hand on his chest. The sound that rang out across the landscape was one of agony, pain that ended suddenly and without warning, a type of death that only mortals could experience. Then the woman rose, turning away from the now dead king, her eyes as scarlet as those of the Hounds that bounded across the moor to join her once again....

[colonelnope]

This is definitely not where she was a moment ago.

Eve categorizes battlefield and dead first; the era of armor and horse-back combat filters in a little later, as a slightly lower priority. She hunkers down automatically to present a lower target as she surveys what's in front of her.

Wolves.

Very, very big wolves. And here Eve is all unarmed. She swears -- internally -- and watches for as long as they seem to not be noticing her.

It's breath-held observation that holds Eve still until she sees the person and recognizes her-- sort of. The face shape is the same, the long fall of night-dark hair the same. The red eyes and the blade are very new.

Great. Eve's favorite frenemy is some fun variety of inhuman. She's just... not going to call attention to herself yet.

Open

[annihilist]

A. Devin has been avoiding the Aisling Tower since it became obvious that strange things were happening with memories. His past was littered with violence, and he's had it exposed without his permission often enough. The Dreaming is not yet done with him, however.

He's working at the library when he hears the sound of books being thrown on the floor. Annoyed, Devin turns down an aisle to tell whoever it is to stop, and he freezes. There's a young man a few yards away, perhaps eleven or twelve years of age. Devin's hair was just as dark then, but it's ragged like he hadn't cared for it well as a boy. Pale blue eyes are full of anger, fists full of books from his father's library. Devin watches himself escalate to not just pulling books from shelves but actually ripping them clean in half. The boy goes through two or three like that before stopping, suddenly, and abruptly fear joins the rage. The child stares at his hands, then at the books around him.

For almost a minute, both of them stand without moving, breathing heavily. Suddenly, the boy gives a primal yell that's as triumphant as it is anguished. Fangs elongate, his eyes grow even brighter, and the child that Devin was so long ago knocks the entire shelf over at once. It's made of solid wood and packed with books that begin to cascade everywhere in the memory - the strength required to do that is well beyond most grown adults.

B. This one doesn't emerge out into the streets, but instead broadcasts itself to people around him.

"Hello, child." The voice is gentle. There's a grandfatherly-looking man in front of him, smiling softly, with eyes as deep and old as the sea.

"Who the hell are you?" Devin's voice is unsteady, younger and more scared than people would recognize now. The difference between seventeen and one hundred twenty-four is stark.

"I have gone by many names, and taken many shapes."

"Not helpful. And I'm not your child," he spits, backing away. Devin turns to run, and the Word is there before him again.

"You are not, and yet in so many ways, Devin Parker, you are."

Devin jumps at the sound of his own name. "How do you know who I am?"

The stranger's smile saddens. "I have known you since before you came into this world, and have watched over you for every moment you have lived in it. I am Creation." A wryness comes to the being's smile. "You might know me as God."

B is for Uh OH

[redlightgreenlight]

Nothing these days seemed to be going right. Since the Dreaming didn't seem to care how far away she was from the tower, Valdis ventured back into the city, planning to just find a quiet place and avoid all contact with other living souls. Apparently the Dreaming wanted to comply with that particular desire, because the sounds that appeared did not, in fact, belong to a living soul.

You might know me as God.

The Void screeched at the sound of the voice, raging almost painfully inside her mind. She didn't know the language it was currently cursing in, but the creature's lack of calm was paralyzing. No matter that Valdis didn't know what had occured between the Void and the God of her world, it was apparently bad enough that the Void was extremely unhappy by any God that might be related, even distantly, to the God it knew.

Valdis leaned back against the hallway wall, closing her eyes, mumbling calm to the monster she normally tried to ignore. It wouldn't take much for the Void to decide to lash out, yet having it lash out in fear was a much larger concern than it attacking out of malice. The latter was easier to deflect.

[justsomeshrimp]

a. under the sea

Anyone watching would be greeted with a rather pleasant scene. A town, or perhaps even a village from how widely spaced its buildings were and the minimal infrastructure would unfurl before them, pitched against the sapphire backdrop of the ocean. This little speck of civilization found deep in the sea was Lobco's home. To see it again with the full knowledge she may never be able to return--and not because she was currently stuck here in Aifaran--pulled at her heart.

There were the stone pathways, enchanted so that they wold not erode, the small but sturdy and bright buildings that served as homes, the street vendors with their cart stalls calling out their wares, and all manner of sea creatures from your diverse fish, to your sharks and dolphins, to octopuses, flapjacks, crustaceans and more. Most of them remained in their animal forms, for many it was the only one they possessed, but there were, however, a few handful that were swimming about in a more humanoid form. Even so, hints of what they truly were, such as tails and claws remained.

They walked, they swam, talked with one another, some lingered by the stalls to examine the wares. Lobco even recognized some of them. At first she thought this might be some sort of window to her home in present day, that is until she saw herself.

Lobco stiffened, wondering how she had missed her, considered the stark contrast of bright red hair, tail, and antennae against the deep blue surroundings. She was much smaller, to any onlookers she would appears to be the human equivalent of six or seven. The shrimp darted between stands and buildings, seemingly undetected by anyone else and moving father and farther away from the hub of town. Lobco frowned as she watched herself. What was this? Complete fantasy? A depiction of the past? Someone else entirely? She certainly couldn't remember it...but considering how young hse looked it must have been long, long ago.

Her younger self continued to swim far away from the populace, and soon the stone pathways gave way to sandy ground. As far as the eye could see, there was only the cast ocean with all its vibrant flora--and from above there now descended tiny stars, reminiscent of snowfall.

Slowly the memory was returning. Yes, she used to slip away to the Sea of Stars quite often as a child. So that she would be outside the home she'd locked herself in for years, without having to deal with people. Yet, why was this being shown? So what if she did that? It seemed like nothing of note at first, that is until her tiny self stopped in place. Her antennas perked up in alarm before she quickly swam forward to catch something in outstretched hands. From here Lobco could see it, and that's when it all came back: there in her palms was a star, but very different from all the other ones. Pitch black, as opposed to the greens, pinks, blues and purples of the others. It was Chlomaki's star. Lobco hadn't the faintest lcue where it came from at that time, but even then it had already begun to change her life.

The memory faded and Lobco shifted in certainty, looking around to see if anyone else had witnessed the scene. She wouldn't be bothered if they had, it was innocuous...but hopefully that would be it.

b. cooking by the book | warning for someone being boiled alive

The room is claustrophobic. Tiny, and every inch of its walls is lined with overflowing shelves full of jars and boxes of different plants, liquids...and body parts? Horns, fangs, scales, doubtless from many different kinds of creatures.

In the center of the room is a lit fire pit over which hangs an enormous cauldron, bubbling and hissing; smoke billows from it, rising up and being filtered out the sweltering room by slits in the roof.

Within the room there are three figures. The first is a young woman standing before the cauldron, slowly stirring it with a large ladle. From her appearance it would seem she loves to live up to stereotypes, because she's every bit the picture of a witch. Garbed all in black, with boots and a pointed hat, multiple belts adorn her body and she has a strange looking one tucked behind one. The only thing that really seems to stand out as different, and is rather ironic is that she also seems to have the features of black cat with pointed ears sticking out of holes in her hat, and a black tail swaying behind her.

The second figure stood next to Lobco, an observer to the cat witch's brewing. She was significantly shorter than Lobco and decked in a blue dress with red, blue and white stripped ribbons. She too, bore a pointed hat, with a little anchor pin. Her eyes were wide and inquisitive, while Lobco's appeared distracted and lost in thought.

"Chocolate, seaweed, gum, a screw, loam, a goldfish, a mouse, raw ham, blue cheese, a rock, horn of goat, candy, bat carcasses, rainwater, a mushroom…" The cat witch spoke, nodding in satisfaction.

"All that's left is some shrimp!" There was a moment in which the onlookers expressions remained the same, before what she had said sank into and both turned to bewilderment and horror.

"--ah. Lady Chlomaki. That potion it's...it's really..." Lobco couldn't quite articulate herself at the moment, only raising her hands and rapidly shaking her head.

"That's an order, Lobco. Come now, come, come."

The shrimp instead only began to back away, and her witch pulled out the wand from belt, giving it a flick. Lobco was raised into the air with a shriek, protests flowing from her mouth until she was dunked into the cauldron with screams of agony.

c. more!

I actually had two more potential prompts but this was getting so long I cut them out. One was another cute scene where players could meet her parents--since they look like this and this and could make for some funny exchanges.

The other would give insight into the justice system....or lack there of, of the place she resided in previous to being brought to Aifaran (not the sea). It'd also give the faintest hint of her relationship with Roc which is a very nasty business.

And of course we could discuss more. I have this public plurk here where we can talk about other possibilities!

B

[darkwingsofkilvas]

The memory comes on so suddenly that Naesala almost thought he'd stepped into someone else's house by accident. But then he realizes that he can't actually feel the heat from the cauldron, and that makes him relax somewhat. The room is a bit macabre for his tastes, and its small size means that his wings actually brush through the walls and jars at times as he subconsciously tries to fit himself into a space that isn't truly there. Once he's comfortable, he stands with his hands on the hips, unabashedly taking in the scene.

It's once the memory version of Lobco starts to protest that Naesala's expression quickly falls, going from a smirk to being much more stone-faced. Then she's dropped into the cauldron, and a visible shiver ruffles through his wings at hearing her screams. Even Naesala can't keep one of his usual masks on at such a horrifying scene, his expression quickly turning to an angry snarl.

"What - what is this? Is this supposed to be magic, or torture?!"

open!

[ursulamajor]

[ooc: Just doing one memory for this, I had a good idea and couldn't think of another.]

One of the memories that comes to life is, in its own way, delightful: a full-blown magic show.

The audience doesn't appear, save for the occasional ghostly outline of them. The focus, instead, is on a woman up in the sky. She clutches a broom between her hands, gripping on tightly and with a broad grin on her face. She wears a white witch's hat, a white and red performer's outfit, and carries a polished rod in one hand. In the air, shooting stars of green light shoot and zip every which way, darting and swirling together. Her red eyes widen with delight as she watches, and as she directs it with her fancy wand, like a conductor and their baton.

More than that, animals made of light romp through the air. A herd of elephants rushes by, while fairies flitter on by. Over it, the red-haired young woman holds her rod up -- and it shimmers, light pouring out of it, and rising up from the ground. She draws it back into her hand, and the performer's voice rings out -- though it is a little tinny as the memory takes form. She calls out to the crowd:

"A believing heart is your magic!"

And, standing to the side, Ursula Callistis watches this with an expression hidden behind her glasses. She takes note to push them up with her finger, pressing them up to her face; it conceals her red eyes nicely. One hand tugs, idly, on the length of blue hair that falls over her shoulder. Her expression shifts, slightly, from a frown to a wistful smile.

But then pointedly back to neutral.

The way her fingers tighten nervously about her wand, until her knuckles whiten, may say more than her expression.

[lasergrenades]

Okay, this whole 'memories spilling out onto the streets' thing isn't exactly the strangest trick the Dreaming has pulled - there was that time when memories could be shared just by physical contact. Pepper's threshold for weird is pretty high. She turns the corner and stops when the sparkles and lights burst in front of her eyes, leaving spots on her vision for a moment. It looks really cool--

--and then her gaze falls on Ursula, who looks.... Pepper isn't sure, actually. Her attention is riveted to the memory, but the performing witch isn't Ursula. Right...? There could definitely be a resemblance.

Only one way to find out. Pepper edges towards her new friend, eyes drawn back to the swirls of color. "Hey, Ursula!" The greeting is cheerful, but there's an edge of curiosity to it. "Do you know what's going on?"

[ninjainviolet]

This may not be Sheena's first time dealing with memories on display, but that doesn't make it any less unsettling.

Especially when she starts hearing disembodied voices.

She's in the market one day when she hears a long ago conversation between her and a friend as they learn about one of the more interesting aspects of Christmas. As the conversation goes on, Sheena begins mouthing her own responses, her smile widening.

Male Voice (coming in in the middle of his sentence): ...the red-suit man seems to be someone named Santa. He's just some creep who breaks into your house, leaves wrapped packages, and eats your milk and cookies. He can have the milk for all I care, but if anyone touches my cookies, they're losing a hand.

Sheena: What kind of an idiot breaks into a place to leave something? Is it in exchange for the food he takes without permission?

Male Voice: That's what I said! But everyone said no, no, it's good! It makes people happy! But he's still breaking into your house and taking your food. I don't get it.

Sheena: I don't see how it's good. Who's to say that might not be the only thing someone has to eat for a day? Are they supposed to starve? Or are they supposed to try to eat whatever it is he leaves you?

Male Voice: There's a lot of issues with it. It's a violation to break into someone's home regardless. I don't see why it's okay just because he's leaving presents.

Sheena: That's the part I'm having trouble with, too. Am I really supposed to dismiss some invasion of my privacy because some nut leaves me a gift or something? That's ridiculous!

Male Voice (fading away): I'm starting to think you're one of the only logical people on this rock.

"Awww," Sheena's says, disappointed, her smile fading slightly. She understands Christmas and Santa a little better now, but that conversation is one she'll never forget and cherish for a very long time.

"I hope you're doing okay, Ed...Al..."

-------------

Another sounds in the Library. A firm and no-nonsense tone filling the air as it instructs her in a fighting maneuver she mastered long ago. The voice and memory are so compelling, however, that's she's performing the move and asking, "How's this, Grandpa" before realizing he's not there. Dropping her hands, she stands normally, her expression falling as she turns back around.

"Oh."

-------------

But if voices aren't bad enough, for several days, she's been seeing something out of the corner of her eye. A familiar something--or someone, actually--but every time she turns, he seems to disappear. She knows this is probably one of those memory things happening, but what if it's not? Well, only one way to find out. Tapping on the shoulder of the person next to her, she presents a very serious expression as she asks the important question.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a man who looks like this (and she'll describe Travis Touchdown, trademark glasses and all) wearing a tutu?"

Santa Trespassing!

[choiced]

Zelos hears the conversation in his head like it's two angels being all telepathic, except one of the voices is Sheena and the other one he doesn't recognise. And the conversation makes no sense at all. Someone called Santa breaks into peoples' houses and leaves gifts? Zelos has got to agree with Sheena, what's the point of that?

Sheena's also the first person Zelos has seen disappointed in the aftermath of one of these trips down memory lane, so he slides around her and grins. "You're happy!" he says. "You know you could be even happier if you turn that frown upside down, right? What gives? Most people can't wait for their memories to be over."

why did this take me one shitbillion years to write

[purered]

A. Better Days

The memory is mostly white around the edges, faded and everything seems too big as though filtered through the eyes of a child -

...which, clearly, it is.

Klaus can't be more than five years old, a rather round and chubby-cheeked boy with a rosy smile and chasing after two older boys - one of around nine or ten and the other well into his teens. They're clearly Klaus's brothers - the dark red hair marking them as the other Reinherz children.

"We're going to be studying," said the oldest, who was carrying a satchel full of books, "so you can't be running around making a fuss, Klaus."

"I won't," Klaus promises, his rosy smile turning into an exaggerated and very solemn expression. "I just want to read with you!"

"He won't be a bother if you give him a book," the middle brother explains, to which Klaus vigorously nods his round head in agreement.

The eldest seems to concede and plops down under a tree, selecting one of the thinner books to hand to Klaus while he and the middle brother get to work on their studies, enjoying the nice spring day.

Klaus hunkers down between them eagerly, opening the book (albeit upside down) and seems content, looking up occasionally to see when his brother's turn a page to follow suit. Eventually, he comes to a realization and looks up to his oldest brother, his expression a disappointed frown.

"This book doesn't have any pictures!" He protests, and waddles off to go investigate a nearby pond for frogs, frantically pursued by the older boys before he gets into trouble as all five year olds are prone to doing.


B. The Change

He sat in a wooden chair in the middle of a dingy loft with peeling wallpaper and a strong smell of tobacco. There was a tray set nearby, laid out with scissors, a comb, a razor, shaving cream and other essentials. He's naked, save for a towel around his waist and his red hair is long, matted, and soaking from a recent bath.

His posture is not what it normally is either - it isn't regal or confident - he's closed in on himself, his arms hugging his chest while his fingers dig into his skin, drawing blood. His green eyes are wide with some horror, and his teeth grit, his upper fangs as prominent as his lower set. There's a mark on his chest, something between a scar and a tattoo and red as blood - an intricate pattern winding down from the fresh puncture scars on his throat to form a XII right beside his heart. He can't be much older than nineteen or twenty in this memory, but he looks older and more haggard than ever. Everything feels ... sharp. Sharp and acrid and cold despite the lingering heat from what must have been an almost scalding bath (his skin looks rubbed raw and yet he's still clawing at himself).

Another man enters the room, carrying a few more supplies, along with another towel and a bathrobe. He's middle aged, with dark hair, and droopy eyes, and he wears an ill-fitted suit as saturated with the tobacco smell as the rest of his flat.

"Sorry, didn't expect you out so soon - I was talking with Gil-"

"I would like a mirror," Klaus says abruptly, and then seems to realize he forgot his manners, "Please, Mr. Abrahms."

"Maybe you should wait until after..." Abrahms's voice is full of trepidation as he eyes the young man in front of him.

"Please," Klaus says again, voice hoarse as he looks up, pleading. "I need to see."

Abrahms exhales, and drapes the towel over Klaus's shoulders and lays the bathrobe in his lap before sifting through the various supplies for a hand mirror. Reluctantly, he hands it to Klaus.

There is a long, pregnant silence as Klaus stares at his reflection, seemingly unable to recognize himself.

"My God," he whispers, "I'm a monster."

Abrahms looks as though he was expecting this, but expected as it was, it doesn't make it any better. He takes the mirror from Klaus's unresisting hand and sets it face down on the tray, taking up the scissors instead.

"Listen to me, Klaus," Abrahms says slowly, deliberately, "You are not a monster. The reason I know this is because your sitting here right now - because you've chosen to make things right."

There was, for a time, only the sound of the scissors snipping away the worst of the matted hair and the distant rumble of traffic outside.

"As long as one can face the light," he continues, pulling the comb through the mess of hair, now trimming it into something more manageable, "and take even a step forward - they are never truly lost."

SUFFERING TIME

[iseeall]

When Leo saw that memories were happening-and even saw a few glimpses of his own-he wasn't expecting to run head on into a Klaus he'd never seen before. He had long hair, and sitting next to a younger looking Abrams that was cutting the mangled locks.

Remembering the conversation that he had before with Klaus in a place much like this, he walked up quietly in case he could affect it somehow. Of course, he couldn't; the two just kept on moving and existing without caring up until Leo saw the tattoo on the large man's chest.

"Oh my god. That's what you meant," Leo said to himself, almost unable to fully comprehend. A level 12, and now that he remembered the conversation, he knew exactly what that met. His hands went over his mouth too, when he heard Abrams say the famous line. "God. No, why did you say that to me of all people?"