pc catchall | turboheaven | eupha

[historicals]

third eye.mp3

Comments

[historicals]

[ hey this is terrible

he closes his eyes, briefly, bracing himself against that mental image. awful. ]

...was he already... [ affected? ]

[trifocal]

[ a nod. ]

It was difficult to see at first, and he even spoke, but... the words were nonsense, as if he was just repeating some things he had said in the distant past...

And when I saw his face, it was... terribly distorted. It hurt to look.

He attacked suddenly, and we worked together to bring him down. I thought that he would have died when his neck broke, but he kept moving...

[historicals]

[ the hand on her shoulder shifts gently to rub her back as she talks, scooting a little closer for the emotional support. ]

...How awful. [ he can almost picture it - and that's even worse, and he shakes his head briefly, trying to clear it, brows knit, mouth pulled into a soft frown. ] What a cruel thing to have to experience - and to do so without your memories, only to remember upon return...

[trifocal]

[ she closes her eyes, leaning in a little closer. she is steady as always, but... it is nice. for someone to reach out and comfort her so. ]

... I spoke to Basilio about some of my experience, but... not of this part. Only of the parts where we became friends, where he fought bravely, the parts that were amusing or inspiring...

I wished to remember only those parts.

[historicals]

[ baby. when she comes a little closer, he shifts too, and pulls her in for a gentle side hug, a bastion; memory is such a familiar concept, and horror is, too. he thinks for a moment of his own trip all those weeks ago. ]

... I don't think anyone could blame you for that. [ softly: ] Yet... the trouble with our memory is that the longer we do not confront those things, the longer we hold onto them, the more that they fester. The more they find our way to us and haunt us.

But if we release them somehow, someway - in prayer, in writing, in confession to a friend, then... we can begin to let them heal, instead of let them rot. And then, perhaps those kind and warm parts will have room to root in our memories, and grow.

[ there's a gentle squeeze, and he tilts his head down to look at her properly, smiling soft. ]

Thank you for trusting me with your story, Miss Eupha.

[trifocal]

[ it's a peculiar feeling, to be the one being held and comforted and offered such words. it was always eupha's duty to give comfort to others. she's unsure about it, as if wondering if there is something else she ought to be doing instead...

but there is a warm feeling here, and for the moment, she tries to focus just on that. ]

... I am grateful, too, that you are here to listen.