you'd think the least these memories could do would be to come forth in a sensible order, but that's asking far too much of the world.
do you remember anything else from it? anything said to you, where you might have been? it might not help, but the more details, the more unlikely you are to forget it again.
I remember gratitude from the ones I healed. [It's less bragging than it is a simple fact; sympathy for the suffering and an unneeded appreciation from others was what stood out the most.] No specific words or platitudes this time.
As for the setting, I daresay it was completely unfamiliar. I can't remember many details, but it certainly wasn't any place I've ever visited before. And the way some had been dressed, it might have been from another time period altogether.
or they could have been avant garde in their dress, with all the interest in dressing like older time periods.
[though the likelihood might be slim.]
it's less concerning than the memory of the man on the train, even as i want to know how from scientific curiosity. these keep leaving us on such excellent cliffhangers that i almost want to say i'm anticipating the next one.
[the more people tell her about their remembrances, the more she becomes invested in the stories. it's too interesting to not do so.]
That's unlikely. It was all manner of people, the less well-to-do included. I don't think they'd be particularly concerned about being avant garde in anything, though I can't say for sure either way.
The cliffhangers are both frustrating and tantalizing at the same time. But don't worry; you'll be one of the first to know, the moment I'm hit with another confusing, slightly disorienting experience. I'd hate to leave you hanging.
As far as I'm aware, no new physical differences, either felt or manifested. Eyes and hair as they were before, no surprises on my skin, all limbs accounted for. That sort of thing.
that's the most one could hope for. but if anything does change and you want a professional opinion, you know how to contact me. i know i'm not exactly that sort, but in case you don't want your gp asking too many odd questions.
[hello doctor, it's lovely to see you, yes i know my eyes spontaneously changed color in the last three months, nothing to concern yourself over.]
No need to concern yourself, you would be the first I would go to, even if you're not "exactly that sort". Still, let's hope that there'll be no need for that anytime soon. I'm happy with our correspondence as it is. Generally pleasant, with the smattering of odd memories here and there.
i don't know about you, but i personally find even the discussion of the memories pleasant, regardless of if the contents aren't the most cheering. as long as we do stay in contact, i'm content.
[but even so, the space between doesn't have much time to fill with casual communication that has nothing to do with memories at all, because it's the next morning when she texts him again.]
[(Very) late to bed, early to rise. Such is the life of Ardyn Izunia, and so naturally he's well awake at the hour in which Grell texts him in the morning.]
[how he does it, she can't understand. it's like some hidden talent.]
i was headed somewhere, in a city i can't place, feeling more exhausted than i ever have. and i was carrying a notebook, some kind of dossier with profiles in it. i've seen those kind of things before, but never one where all the dates were from the 19th century.
[that had been weird, when she woke up, but at the time, it had seemed perfectly natural. but fair is fair - he told her about magic, she can tell him about what vaguely strikes her as some research project of the dead.]
now i have fifteen more questions than i went to bed with. but i feel like i knew exactly where i was going.
[and now she's still tired. at least it's Sunday and she can text and not have to go anywhere today.]
[Less a hidden talent, and more of a bad habit that he never bothered to break. The body grows accustomed to dumb sleep hours when given no other choice. (Probably not the healthiest lifestyle choice, but not one he's ever had a reason yet to stop.)]
Then let's try and delve into more detail, and maybe we can narrow down fifteen questions to twelve. Or even ten.
The first obvious one is this: do you remember any of the names in the dossiers? Or faces you would recognize?
none. the faces weren't remarkable, the names nothing familiar. even the causes of death weren't outstanding in any way aside from being a usual variety.
[if there had been a note of murder or something that might have shed more light. but it had been so clinical that it was barely anything. heart failure, illness, a broken neck by accident. no remarks.]
it was only one set of pages i looked at. a glance, that's what it was.
Causes of death? Were all of these profiles medical records?
[Is it too bold for him to maybe assume that her current career path might be reflected in her memories, as well? Maybe, but still a reasonable question to ask.]
A long day at work, perhaps? Or not enough sleep? One or the other may be a reason for your perceived exhaustion.
[Exaggeration or otherwise, it gets the point across. Not the same sort of tired feeling from a normal, mundane day at work, at least.]
Then what of the dates? 19th century. Research? [The next part he debates typing, before ultimately sending it along with the rest.] Or maybe you were living /in/ it.
I healed people with magic, and you tell me that living in the 19th century is impossible?
[But he perhaps understands the finer point of what she's getting at.]
I've had this conversation in passing with someone else before. It was a superfluous notion at best, then. But recently, it's been brought up once more, and the thought has lingered in my mind since.
[He doesn't blame her for the pause. It's... an interesting theory to wrap one's head around.]
I'll be the first to say that it initially sounds like a bit of a stretch. But with everything that's been happening, it's something to consider.
Everyone I've spoken to, everything I've /read/ from the posts on Retrospec -- there's something easily overlooked, but noticeable enough if you pay close attention. Never have they been about someone other than oneself. Never strictly empirical. Even the ones about objects, they are always followed with, "It sounds crazy, but /I/ know it was real."
"I", always "I". All very personal, all very certain. Is it not odd how right they feel, even when they give us pause?
You're more than welcome to tell me I'm wrong, and to remove my tinfoil hat, of course. As with everything else, this can't be proven. But it's a thought. A lingering one.
let's entertain this for a moment, putting aside my inner skeptic.
[another pause now, but that's because Grell's moving from her phone to her laptop to type out what she thinks. there's more words than she cares to use her thumbs to write, and Ardyn shouldn't mind if she's going to get a bit wordy.]
it would be more likely to be a shared hysteria and confabulations if people remembered similar circumstances, piggybacking off each other. but have you heard of a single person who remembers the same moment as someone else? we're radically different, the things that i've heard. and there's, like you said, a subjective point of view involved, yet even when confronted with certain impossibilities, just as easily they become impossibly certain. i know i was wielding a chainsaw as if i was born to use such a weapon, i know i do not possess the level of strength to do so as freely as i was. you know you were healing people. you know that a simple touch cannot cure the sick.
the only things we know together are the changes in the world that confuse us all. the chocobos, the fruit. that does beg the question of if we should now consider horses to be part of a past life, but that's a philosophical question i'll have to take up at a later date, as to what defines a past life and can life be past if you're currently living it. that's semantics and points of view.
past lives. it's as likely as something in the water or some government intervention. at this point, is there much we can truly discredit for what's happening? at least that idea gives an explanation for the remembrances and how true they feel.
[He doesn't mind at all. "Wordy" describes both his life and himself very well. He'll not shirk away from a couple of paragraphs, else he never would have made it out of law school. He sticks with using his thumbs for now, though, and so Grell has to wait a minute or two before she gets a reply.]
In the end, no, there's nothing we can discredit, just as if there's nothing we can prove. As entertaining as it is to sit about and toss theories back and forth between each other, the sad reality is that nothing has changed. Speculation doesn't arm us with more answers, nor more tools to take action against whatever is conspiring against us. It's completely and utterly frustrating.
[Ardyn, who does like to have at least some semblance of control when it comes to various aspects of his life, perhaps allows this to bother him more than anything. It's the equivalent of feeling useless and stagnant, while a storm swirls around him and everyone else.]
But I digress. You're right in that it explains why there's a certain level of investment in these memories; at the same time, this theory may be one of the most disconcerting. It goes back to what we had spoken about before: If you remember something less-than-pleasant, what will you do? How will it change you? /Knowing/ that they were once "real" may be enough to tip the scales towards an existential crisis proper, as opposed to believing they're merely implanted.
[god, does she understand the frustration though. the most they can do right now is speculate, theorize, deal with the results. short of storming a building that might as well be haunted, what is there? waiting. waiting, patience wearing thin and constantly demanded. the most she can do is keep herself busy to offset it. sometimes that wrapped around to thinking.]
if you remember yourself being someone that you think you never could be, then what does that say? do you consider you there and you here two distinct entities? of course, that's an extreme scenario, but i'd rather start from the largest scale and work my way down. and if you've done something, does that make it real enough that you should consider that you've done it? that is, assuming that you consider then and now to be the same person.
questions i don't expect anyone to answer. merely consider.
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do you remember anything else from it? anything said to you, where you might have been? it might not help, but the more details, the more unlikely you are to forget it again.
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As for the setting, I daresay it was completely unfamiliar. I can't remember many details, but it certainly wasn't any place I've ever visited before. And the way some had been dressed, it might have been from another time period altogether.
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[though the likelihood might be slim.]
it's less concerning than the memory of the man on the train, even as i want to know how from scientific curiosity. these keep leaving us on such excellent cliffhangers that i almost want to say i'm anticipating the next one.
[the more people tell her about their remembrances, the more she becomes invested in the stories. it's too interesting to not do so.]
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The cliffhangers are both frustrating and tantalizing at the same time. But don't worry; you'll be one of the first to know, the moment I'm hit with another confusing, slightly disorienting experience. I'd hate to leave you hanging.
[And he hopes the feeling is mutual!]
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this one didn't make you feel physically different, did it? [she remembers Jack, and his pain that had seemed so new.] nothing out of place?
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"So far", I should add. Knock on wood.
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[hello doctor, it's lovely to see you, yes i know my eyes spontaneously changed color in the last three months, nothing to concern yourself over.]
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Until next time, then?
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[but even so, the space between doesn't have much time to fill with casual communication that has nothing to do with memories at all, because it's the next morning when she texts him again.]
speak of the devil. i had one of those dreams.
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Another? Do share.
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i was headed somewhere, in a city i can't place, feeling more exhausted than i ever have. and i was carrying a notebook, some kind of dossier with profiles in it. i've seen those kind of things before, but never one where all the dates were from the 19th century.
[that had been weird, when she woke up, but at the time, it had seemed perfectly natural. but fair is fair - he told her about magic, she can tell him about what vaguely strikes her as some research project of the dead.]
now i have fifteen more questions than i went to bed with. but i feel like i knew exactly where i was going.
[and now she's still tired. at least it's Sunday and she can text and not have to go anywhere today.]
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Then let's try and delve into more detail, and maybe we can narrow down fifteen questions to twelve. Or even ten.
The first obvious one is this: do you remember any of the names in the dossiers? Or faces you would recognize?
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[if there had been a note of murder or something that might have shed more light. but it had been so clinical that it was barely anything. heart failure, illness, a broken neck by accident. no remarks.]
it was only one set of pages i looked at. a glance, that's what it was.
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[Is it too bold for him to maybe assume that her current career path might be reflected in her memories, as well? Maybe, but still a reasonable question to ask.]
A long day at work, perhaps? Or not enough sleep? One or the other may be a reason for your perceived exhaustion.
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[maybe she's exaggerating. but it feels appropriate.]
they weren't indepth enough to be true medical records. more like the basic information on people. like some kind of reference list.
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Then what of the dates? 19th century. Research? [The next part he debates typing, before ultimately sending it along with the rest.] Or maybe you were living /in/ it.
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[says the woman who'd been so quick to pull out the label of magic.]
i'd more easily buy that i was doing some sort of research than living there. that'd make me exceptionally old indeed.
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[But he perhaps understands the finer point of what she's getting at.]
I've had this conversation in passing with someone else before. It was a superfluous notion at best, then. But recently, it's been brought up once more, and the thought has lingered in my mind since.
[(Thanks, Prompto.)]
What if this was a you from a past life?
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a past life? could that really be an answer to this?
[there's no scientific basis for reincarnation. the same way there isn't for magic.]
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I'll be the first to say that it initially sounds like a bit of a stretch. But with everything that's been happening, it's something to consider.
Everyone I've spoken to, everything I've /read/ from the posts on Retrospec -- there's something easily overlooked, but noticeable enough if you pay close attention. Never have they been about someone other than oneself. Never strictly empirical. Even the ones about objects, they are always followed with, "It sounds crazy, but /I/ know it was real."
"I", always "I". All very personal, all very certain. Is it not odd how right they feel, even when they give us pause?
You're more than welcome to tell me I'm wrong, and to remove my tinfoil hat, of course. As with everything else, this can't be proven. But it's a thought. A lingering one.
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[another pause now, but that's because Grell's moving from her phone to her laptop to type out what she thinks. there's more words than she cares to use her thumbs to write, and Ardyn shouldn't mind if she's going to get a bit wordy.]
it would be more likely to be a shared hysteria and confabulations if people remembered similar circumstances, piggybacking off each other. but have you heard of a single person who remembers the same moment as someone else? we're radically different, the things that i've heard. and there's, like you said, a subjective point of view involved, yet even when confronted with certain impossibilities, just as easily they become impossibly certain. i know i was wielding a chainsaw as if i was born to use such a weapon, i know i do not possess the level of strength to do so as freely as i was. you know you were healing people. you know that a simple touch cannot cure the sick.
the only things we know together are the changes in the world that confuse us all. the chocobos, the fruit. that does beg the question of if we should now consider horses to be part of a past life, but that's a philosophical question i'll have to take up at a later date, as to what defines a past life and can life be past if you're currently living it. that's semantics and points of view.
past lives. it's as likely as something in the water or some government intervention. at this point, is there much we can truly discredit for what's happening? at least that idea gives an explanation for the remembrances and how true they feel.
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In the end, no, there's nothing we can discredit, just as if there's nothing we can prove. As entertaining as it is to sit about and toss theories back and forth between each other, the sad reality is that nothing has changed. Speculation doesn't arm us with more answers, nor more tools to take action against whatever is conspiring against us. It's completely and utterly frustrating.
[Ardyn, who does like to have at least some semblance of control when it comes to various aspects of his life, perhaps allows this to bother him more than anything. It's the equivalent of feeling useless and stagnant, while a storm swirls around him and everyone else.]
But I digress. You're right in that it explains why there's a certain level of investment in these memories; at the same time, this theory may be one of the most disconcerting. It goes back to what we had spoken about before: If you remember something less-than-pleasant, what will you do? How will it change you? /Knowing/ that they were once "real" may be enough to tip the scales towards an existential crisis proper, as opposed to believing they're merely implanted.
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if you remember yourself being someone that you think you never could be, then what does that say? do you consider you there and you here two distinct entities? of course, that's an extreme scenario, but i'd rather start from the largest scale and work my way down. and if you've done something, does that make it real enough that you should consider that you've done it? that is, assuming that you consider then and now to be the same person.
questions i don't expect anyone to answer. merely consider.
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