Audience: Harrowhark Nonagesimus

[probe]

Comments

[bonetiddies]

Are memories the key to indulging? If so, I may be lost.

[Her brain will explode.]

I suppose there are other memories. I was told I ought to share, but is the goal catharsis, or more pain? If sharing something painful doesn't feel terrible, is it truly despair?

[probe]

They are not the key for everyone, no-- it is only an example. Your motivation for feeling such emotions, as well as the emotions themselves, are of greater import than memories for you.

It need not feel terrible at all times, either; I do believe I have mentioned inflicting it on others is allowable. Catharsis could work well enough, depending.

[bonetiddies]

I'd rather not inflict despair on many people.

[Some people, though. Some people.]

But I'll do what I must. Depending. . . ?

[probe]

Depending upon the manner in which you mean to do so, largely. Indulging in it as a means of getting it out, so to speak, is still indulgence. So long as you feel something of it in the process, it will likely do.

[bonetiddies]

All right. I still fear that I will fall behind. If I truly intend to succeed without the aid of murder, then I must be more than satisfactory in my actions. I haven't been so. . . flagrant as some.

[She means she's not banging??? But that doesn't really seem like a despair thing, anyway.]

[probe]

Perhaps not, but you are still doing more than others. If you carry on as you are, and increase your indulgence where you find opportunities for it, then I believe you will find you do well enough to manage.

[bonetiddies]

Ah. Thank you. That's reassuring. I would hate to fail to fulfill my end of the bargain.

[probe]

And I would not like to see you fail in it. Avoid growing complacent-- though I doubt that will be a problem.

[bonetiddies]

I won't. I won't. The version of myself who existed when I was whole was very clear that I am not to fail in this. If I am to disappoint anyone, let it not be myself I disappoint.

[probe]

You do not consider yourself to be whole now, then.

[hm. a brief pause.]

I do not disagree with that assessment.

[bonetiddies]

I know I am not.

[She reaches, automatically, and touches her forehead, where her frontal lobe would be, where the beginning of a nasty headache is already starting to form.]

I haven't been the same since.

[probe]

The loss of memory leads, naturally, to something of a loss of the self. We are what we remember and know.

[they don't sound particularly judgmental toward her over it, for the moment, only slightly detached.]

[bonetiddies]

[It wouldn't track if they were judgmental - she isn't exactly aware this is something she did to herself intentionally. If she stopped and thought it through it would be obvious that's what it was, except if she tries to stop and think it through she starts having a brain hemorrhage and that makes it hard to puzzle things out.]

Do you speak from experience, then? You mentioned your memories. . .

[probe]

I do. I have seen it in practice, before-- a slow erosion of the identity, as a result of prolonged loss of memories. They clung to what they still knew to be most important as they lost their sense of self, but no longer remembered precisely why they did so to begin with, nor were they still the same person who made that decision.

[bonetiddies]

[Oh. That. . . haha.]

And what became of them?

[probe]

....they still exist, precisely like that. With little to them of the person they used to be-- the one thing they cling to is very nearly all that is left of them at all.

[they shake their head, the crystalline feathers of their wings rustling.]

We preserved their memories, once, when they still had them left to lose. But they refuse them.

[bonetiddies]

[This whole conversation is terrifying her, just a little.]

Why did they not want them returned? What were the memories, that were lost - were they so terrible?

[probe]

[there's no discomfort with the conversation in their tone, but their wings shift in a way they haven't quite done before. the inner portion of the wings can be seen, just barely-- black crystal flecked with shards of other colors, like a rainbow of jagged little stars.]

Quite the opposite. It was that those memories were so precious, they did not wish to remember only to experience forgetting them once again.

[bonetiddies]

[She looks at the wings, a little mesmerized - they're absolutely lovely. But to that statement, she can only answer in confusion.]

I. . . I don't understand.

[probe]

It is a consequence of the reason they began to forget, in the first place. If they were to remember, it would only fade.

...Truth be told, however, I cannot fully understand the choice either. Were I in their place, I would remember as many times as I must, even if it meant losing those memories several times over.

[bonetiddies]

What I've forgotten. . . is it something terrible? Is that something you can answer for me?

[probe]

[for a few moments, they remain silent.]

No. I do not believe you would consider it to be so.

[their own opinions of willingly forgetting are, of course, negative. but they can put their bias aside for five seconds instead of just telling her yes.]

[bonetiddies]

I. . . see.

[Is that a relief? Somehow it doesn't feel like a relief. If the memories she's lost aren't terrible, then why is it so important that she not disturb them? For what reason did she take them away?

. . . Her head is throbbing again.]

Is it within your capabilities to undo what was done to me? I'm not asking you to, I only want to know.

[probe]

...should you decide that you wish to look into it, I will see what may be done. I believe it might be possible.

[they leave it at that, for now.]

[bonetiddies]

Thank you. I will. . . consider it.

[She shouldn't; the Harrow who wrote her those letters was very clear. But it's good to know she has a choice, somehow.]