voidmissions | MEMORY SHARE: 12 OF BEETROOT EVENT (May)

MEMORY SHARE: 12 OF BEETROOT EVENT (May)

JEMA'GRETHY MEMORY SHARE

The caves of Jema'grethy will allow for a few different ways for memories to be interacted with. But for most, such as those entering in bonds, it will be seen like a vision in their head, putting them in the position and perspective of whose memory it is.

For people sharing bond memories, and also memories being shared while moving through the Memory Cave, this is the spot to place said memories! It's not necessary if you'd like to write it during the thread, but hopefully convenient for others. Just make a toplevel with your character's name in the header, and remember to include any content warnings thereafter for each memory, as applicable!

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You are sat in a dark room. It isn't quite pitch black, there's light coming from somewhere up high, a tiny slit window perhaps. But your eyes are pretty good at seeing in the dark anyways. The room isn't big, it's cool but not cold and made of dark stone.

You are sat on a thin sleeping mat, there's a second pushed up against it but you aren't looking at that. You are absolutely not looking at that side of the room at all. It's almost a visceral fear though the room is silent, you are alone.

You feel hollow, sick, your hands are trembling and your limbs feel weak. You stare into the darkness, not moving.

There is a sound at the door, it creaks open, a heavy thing.

"Here." It's a male voice, a young man and he doesn't sound angry, indeed he sounds awkward, almost gentle. But still you cringe into yourself, teeth gritting together. "Eat it, you did well."

No. You don't want to hear that. You want to scream and never stop screaming. But instead you take a breath, imagine a storm inside of you and fling those emotions, all your emotions inside it. A calm comes over you. Calmer than calm, every sense is ready, every sound is sharp, you can feel the cool air on your skin, smell the distant smells of sweetness, cooking, dust and sewage.

But the feelings are safely behind a bubble. They can't touch you now. You hold it until the door closes again, the man leaves. Then you let it go. You are too exhausted to keep it up.

You stand up, move cautiously towards the door and peer at what Taiwin left you. Rage bubbles in your throat as you look down at the plate and the solitary honey cake. Honey cake, the best food in the whole world. Always a treat, often a reward. How dare he.

You do scream now, rage exploding from you as you bring your foot down on the plate, smushing the honey cake beneath your heal. You don't stop, kicking it off the plate and mashing it into the floor with your foot, until your foot hurts from hitting the stone and you are exhausted from stamping.

Edited 2022-05-19 18:58 (UTC)

You are stood on a dock. Ships are anchored out to sea and the docks are bustling with activity, fishermen, people selling wares, sailors milling around, shouting, swearing.

It's a mass of activity and you stand avoiding the legs of those around you. You don't come past the waist of anyone who bustles around you. Your hand is clasped around another hand. A hand belonging to a little girl. A little girl identical to you in every single way, dressed in a simple faded green tunic, barefoot, waiting just like you.

You look ahead to the end of the docks. You can't see past the crowd, you are restless and being in the middle of the crowd isn't good. You look around and then grin. "Look." You whisper and direct the other girls attention to a nearby stall. Crabs, crab legs, some cooking, some ready to buy.

You exchange a grin and work without talking. She quickly causes a distraction and you move in, nabbing two claws. They are hot but you don't drop your prize, scrambling through the crowd as the shop keeper kicks up a fuss.

You are too fast and too slippery to be caught and no one gives too much of a chase. You run far enough that it is sand beneath the dock and scramble down, swinging below. The other girl isn't far behind, scrambling through the beams moments later. You grin and give her one of the claws and you both work on prising the meat from the shell.

Neither of you talk, but you know she is happy and that makes you happy too. Footsteps. You both still and glance upwards. A moment later boots appear over the side and a man drops down. He is large, a fighter even by looking at him. He's wearing a leather jerkin and heavy boots even in the heat of the day.

You know him, the stone faced man and you aren't sure if you are in trouble. He had said to wait and obedience was important. However he just gives you both a soft, almost sad look.

"So it was you two making the commotion." He ducked down under the pier to join you. "What's the prize?"

You hold out the crab claw, almost demolished now and he shakes his head. "I see. So I suppose you are too full for lunch?" He reaches into his bag, unwrapping a fish, fried and golden with honey.

"We do be being sorry." You speak first. You often speak first. You are more confident than her though in many ways she is braver. "We do be having more room."

He chuckled. "I bet you do." He placed the fish on a flat rock and the two of you fall on it eagerly, though after a moment he does bat your hands away so he can take some himself. After a little bit of eating he sits back.

"I didn't bring you here to rob unsuspecting crab sellers." He looked at them both. "But you pulled that off well. You've gotten fast, little one."

"You did be saying." You tell him. "That we will never be being as big so we do be needing to be being fast."

"So you do listen." He didn't smile, but his eyes looked pleased and you feel a rush of pride, you cover it by eating more fish. It's almost gone now, sadly. It was some of the best fish you had ever had. You wonder if he bought it with coin, or if he had nabbed it.

He clears up the paper wrapping and gestures for you both to follow. You wonder again why you are here. Not that you mind a day out of the inn, anything is better than scrubbing dishes. But it's strange.

Maybe it is to teach you to swim? But you don't go near the water, instead you walk along the beach. Sometimes he challenges you to run, to race each other and at another he challenged you both to dig a hole deeper than he could.

The day is pleasant and soon you forget about trying to figure out the why. He doesn't speak much, except to set the challenges but you don't speak much either. Neither of you.

The tide moves out and returns in as the day gets later. Eventually he looks up at the sky and the sea. "Come on."

You both follow, sticking closely to him as he leads back up to the pier. You walk through the crowds until you get to where one ship is being loaded. The man stops, looking on and then down at you. His face is very complicated.

"Ready Kant?" A woman, wearing a very fancy coat, walks down the gangplank. Kant says nothing. You exchange a look with your sister, confused. Kant puts a hand on your shoulder, and another on your sister's shoulder.

"Have a good journey captain." He turned, leading you away, down the dock, through the crowd and towards the city itself. Strange. But your confused mood only lasted a moment before you put it out of your mind, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine and the company of your sister and the stone faced man.

Edited 2022-05-19 20:20 (UTC)

The scene is a dark, alley, barely lit by the light of the moon. It's a dead end, only one way in and out and a little girl is crouched in the shadows, keeping watch. She is no more than seven but she seems comfortable in the shadows. Wary and watchful but not frightened. It is not however this little girl who the memory is about.

The memory focuses further in where there is an identical little girl and a young man, still a teenager. They aren't alone. There's a man on the ground, pinned by the teenager. The little girl is crouched in the dust, a knife held to the victims throat.

"You do be telling us, and this can all be ending." The teenager spoke, very calmly. The man glared at him, tried to struggle, futilely.

"You hearts will be being shrivelling to shadow and your tears will be being turning to blood." The man hissed back. The teenager gestured at the girl and she leaned in, baring her teeth.

"Be holding that steady." He told her. "She do be wanting him alive." He sneered at the man. "Last chance."

The man spat on the floor. The teenager twisted his hands, resulting in a crack and a scream. The child held the knife steady. The teen tutted. "No be being any use screaming, who would be being foolish enough to be investigating?"

The man struggled again and the teenager slammed him against the wall. His foot came down on the mans leg.

Another sound, a voice? Muffled? The a whistle from the entrance, the other girl. "Be moving." She hissed.

The teenager, Taiwin, grabbed the man again, pulling him up but the man got an arm free and reached out to grab the girl. There's a flurry of movement and then a curse from the teen as blood spills into the dust.

The girl is holding the knife, now bloody, as the clutches at his neck, blood spilling between his fingers. Taiwin lashes out, clipping the girl across her head. "Idiot." He snatched the knife out of her hand.

"Be going back brat. You can be telling Junie what you did be doing. I do be needing to be cleaning up your mess."

The girl staggered backwards, dazed by the blow. For a moment it looked like Taiwin would lash out again but she scrambled away, down the alley and past the other girl who gave her a hard look. She stuck to the shadows and vanished down the street.

A little girl steps through a doorway into a corridor. She doesn't look much older than four or five, small for her age. She hurries quickly down the corridor, her face a storm of emotions, fighting tears.

A little girl sits in a simple room, stone floors and walls. Two sleeping mats on the floor, a trunk against one wall. It is lit by a candle in a holder next to the girl where she sits on one of the sleeping mats. In front of her is a small paper package but she is not looking at that. Instead her eyes are on the door.

She is on a rooftop, dressed in a dark tunic, trousers, barefoot and silent as she moves swiftly, running over the flat rooftops with ease.

She looks almost as she does now, perhaps only a year or so before being whisked away to the train. She's moving through a busy inn, carrying a tray with tankards through the crowd. It is loud, the air is hot and close.

"Be getting up brats." A teenager pokes his head through the doorway of a small stone room where two children sleep on mats pushed together, limbs tangled together. They stir quickly, pushing off blankets and pulling on tunics.

She's not that much younger than she is now. She strolls down a stone corridor, pausing as she gets to a wooden door. From behind it there is the unmistakable sound of muffled sobs.

She frowns.

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MEMORY SHARE: 12 OF BEETROOT EVENT (May)

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