I think that's completely fair. Please, don't hesitate to stop by at your earliest convenience. We can make it casual. I'm happy to put on a pot of tea and we'll just work through everything that is going on with you together.
[She sent a quick text when she was close to Angela's house, making her way over with a small smile on her face. It wasn't as if they were talking about pleasant things, but she wanted this to be as warm a visit as she could. Better to think of this as a social call even if it really wasn't.
[She smiled when she slipped in. It had been a little more than a week now and she'd made arrangements for work while she was on sabbatical, so she was doing ok overall. The disconnect was still extremely unpleasant but she'd at least found ways to operate considering it.]
Likewise. I hope you have been faring a little better than me. At least the flu was taken care of again. That was ... unpleasant. So, thank you.
[ There were so many reasons to lose one's memory. She'd seen it often times in trauma patients. They couldn't fully remember what they had seen or what had happened. She'd begun to wonder if there was something in the world of the dead here that people were being exposed to that was hard to take, and maybe worse each time.
It was a theory at least. One of the many she and Moria had discussed. ]
I'm glad you are feeling better in that aspect at least. How about we sit in the living room and talk first? You can tell me what you do remember and we'll go from there.
[Part of Vira-Lorr's nature, apart from even her memories, was a sort of stubbornness and free will that she refused to let go of. Maybe it was reading stories about herself and wanting to 'be that person' that she had heard about. She'd taken a few days, but the reassurances and photos had given her this sort of fictitious image of herself that she was trying to live up to. Every day it got easier, which made it easier to ignore the nagging doubts that wanted to freeze her in place, and to keep soldiering on.
Maybe it was a lie, but if you lived a lie long enough...
She walked over and took a seat in the living room with a sigh, trying to relax and compose herself. It was important because what she remembered...]
I am going to be honest, Angela. I remember nothing from the day I woke in my bed. Something made me feel safe, which kept me from being afraid... but I would not even have remembered to look at my dairy if Susan had not given it to me.
It is a blank. I've filled it with knowledge of what people have said about me, with memories of pictures, but it is like that doesn't exist at all. I cannot even access my magic, though... my rapier feels familiar enough.
I suppose I haven't lost muscle memory.
[She wasn't being entirely fair here. She had not forgotten skills entirely. Just facts.]
[ Angela had no idea what she would do if she started to lose her memories. It occurs to her that with a single death behind her, she would be looking at memory loss herself if it happened again. She's hopeful to avoid it personally because she isn't sure how she would help anyone without her memories. Not that same way anyway.
Her kitchen is right by the living, so she goes to the counter to finish the preparations for tea, before bringing back a tray full of everything they would need for an afternoon snack.
All the while, she's taking in what she says. ]
I suppose there is something to being able to remember how to protect yourself.
[She took the tea first and laughed very softly, shaking her head while she looked over at Angela. Oh that question got a smile to her face. Susan susan susan.]
Susan? She is a fae, a green creature that looks like a chicken with a gem in its forehead. I saw the footage. She apparently terrifies the other me, but she's been very protective.
To be honest? It's a little strange, yes. I've been reading, and she reminds me a bit of a cockatrice or a carbuncle from some old stories, closer to a cockatrice. But in the end I think he relies on seeming innocent until she needs to fight.
...
I think when this is done I will appreciate her a bit more, yes. She's given me no reason to be afraid of her.
[ She nodded as she listened. She could slightly recall those terms from mythology. She chuckled softly when she mentioned the innocence. ]
Oh yes, a sentiment I can understand. I have had many people quite shocked to find out what happens when I am backed into a corner.
You must find it disheartening to not remember things? How are you doing mentally, about it all? [ She was no therapist, but it was always a concern. ]
Oh, I believe that. Anyone who thinks you're not dangerous has another thing coming, heh.
[She sighed to herself at the question and glanced away.]
I... have good day, and bad days. I try not to be too visible on the bad days, and I'll confess to drinking pretty heavily on them. Old habits die hard, it seems, even when I can't remember them.
The fact that muscle memory, that memory of skills, have come back relatively easily? It gives me hope, and I cling to that like a life preserver.
Yes. I may be a doctor, but I'm a soldier as well. [ Though often, she wished she didn't have that title under belt. She would forever be trying to heal to fix the damage from Overwatch that she carried the guilt of.
She frowned as she talked about the bad days. She could understand drinking as a coping mechanism, it was one that most common. ] This place will make alcoholics of us all. [ She was joking, but she hoped she wasn't wrong. She also hoped the damage they did to themselves here did not carry over to home when they returned. If they returned. ]
And these bad days? What do they look like. Other than the drinking, what happens within your head that makes them particularly bad? Is it physical or emotional? [ She had her pen ready to make notes. ]
Oh... I am pretty sure that I was an alcoholic long before I ever came here. I would like to think I'm quite functional about it all, and nobody is generally hurt by my binges, but I sometimes wonder.
[That was the thing about the lack of memories. She still had the presence to realize that it might look odd, where her memories from home and here told her how normal it was for her and that everything was fine. She could actually look at it sometimes and wonder.]
It... it's usually something emotional. I encounter some frustration where I know that I should know something. A person looks disappointed when I say the wrong thing. I don't recall a name. Someone calls out to me, and I do not recognize their face. It feels like pieces of me gone, just... not there and it lurks while I smile and wait it out.
[ She wouldn't judge her on that. She'd had her moments here of drinking to excess, and she'd had them back home as well. She wouldn't consider herself an alcoholic, but if she was honest she would have to admit that perhaps she used it in a functional way that might not have been overly healthy. In Deerington it seemed most were lulled by a liquor bottle of some kind. ]
As long as no one gets hurt, including yourself, I won't tell you to do something else.
[ It sounded terrible. She couldn't imagine the weight of something like that hanging over her shoulder.] It sounds like being stuck in a room with someone you can't see, but know is there. Very unsettling.
[Quite an easy poison to rely upon. Vira-Lorr nodded gratefully at the shared attitude, one way or another. It was appreciated that people could understand it, even if she'd been overdoing it.]
Sometimes, when they are standing in the room with me. I can see them, but not see them. I see them, but I remember them as a rumor from someone else's notes.
I remember this place, my own past like someone remembers a child's novel. It feels... disjointed. Strange. Surreal.
[ She puzzled for a moment over what she was saying. A sudden thought occurred to her. From everything she knew about trauma, especially the trauma from war, she knew that disassociation was a key factor in it. ]
No one remembers anything about their time in the life after death here. I wonder if there is something that is particularly traumatizing. The human mind can better adjust to a single event, but repeated traumas can cause the mind to separate and break down slowly. Memory loss and moments of disassociation are common.
Again, I’m not a psychologist, but I know enough to consider it possible that there is something we are seeing there that is causing a disconnect from ourselves. Perhaps even the lives we live here and the lives we live at home. The brain always wants to create peace and balance. The fear that we are experiencing repeatedly makes that difficult.
That... might actually be an explanation of things to some extent, yes. If we are disassociated from our person, we become more and more like the trapped horrors of this place. It gets harder and harder for us to come back as who we actually are each time until the possibility of never coming back exists.
Reaper... mentioned seven being a lucky number. I wouldn't suggest anyone take that risk, but that might be a number to avoid.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
[She sent a quick text when she was close to Angela's house, making her way over with a small smile on her face. It wasn't as if they were talking about pleasant things, but she wanted this to be as warm a visit as she could. Better to think of this as a social call even if it really wasn't.
She came up to the door and knocked firmly.]
no subject
[ During that time, she set everything up to have ready. All the medical supplies were laid out and fresh linens were put on the bed.
When she hears the knock, she was just pouring hot water into tea cups so they could chat more comfortably with everything that was going on.
Making her way to the door, she opens it and offers a smile. ]
It's good to see you, even if I wish it were under better circumstances.
no subject
Likewise. I hope you have been faring a little better than me. At least the flu was taken care of again. That was ... unpleasant. So, thank you.
no subject
It was a theory at least. One of the many she and Moria had discussed. ]
I'm glad you are feeling better in that aspect at least. How about we sit in the living room and talk first? You can tell me what you do remember and we'll go from there.
no subject
Maybe it was a lie, but if you lived a lie long enough...
She walked over and took a seat in the living room with a sigh, trying to relax and compose herself. It was important because what she remembered...]
I am going to be honest, Angela. I remember nothing from the day I woke in my bed. Something made me feel safe, which kept me from being afraid... but I would not even have remembered to look at my dairy if Susan had not given it to me.
It is a blank. I've filled it with knowledge of what people have said about me, with memories of pictures, but it is like that doesn't exist at all. I cannot even access my magic, though... my rapier feels familiar enough.
I suppose I haven't lost muscle memory.
[She wasn't being entirely fair here. She had not forgotten skills entirely. Just facts.]
no subject
Her kitchen is right by the living, so she goes to the counter to finish the preparations for tea, before bringing back a tray full of everything they would need for an afternoon snack.
All the while, she's taking in what she says. ]
I suppose there is something to being able to remember how to protect yourself.
Is Susan a friend of yours?
no subject
Susan? She is a fae, a green creature that looks like a chicken with a gem in its forehead. I saw the footage. She apparently terrifies the other me, but she's been very protective.
...
If very lazy.
no subject
A gem in her forehead? How interesting! I have heard about many protective animals, though never a protective chicken.
Perhaps when you regain your memories you won't be afraid anymore.
no subject
...
I think when this is done I will appreciate her a bit more, yes. She's given me no reason to be afraid of her.
no subject
Oh yes, a sentiment I can understand. I have had many people quite shocked to find out what happens when I am backed into a corner.
You must find it disheartening to not remember things? How are you doing mentally, about it all? [ She was no therapist, but it was always a concern. ]
no subject
[She sighed to herself at the question and glanced away.]
I... have good day, and bad days. I try not to be too visible on the bad days, and I'll confess to drinking pretty heavily on them. Old habits die hard, it seems, even when I can't remember them.
The fact that muscle memory, that memory of skills, have come back relatively easily? It gives me hope, and I cling to that like a life preserver.
no subject
She frowned as she talked about the bad days. She could understand drinking as a coping mechanism, it was one that most common. ] This place will make alcoholics of us all. [ She was joking, but she hoped she wasn't wrong. She also hoped the damage they did to themselves here did not carry over to home when they returned. If they returned. ]
And these bad days? What do they look like. Other than the drinking, what happens within your head that makes them particularly bad? Is it physical or emotional? [ She had her pen ready to make notes. ]
no subject
[That was the thing about the lack of memories. She still had the presence to realize that it might look odd, where her memories from home and here told her how normal it was for her and that everything was fine. She could actually look at it sometimes and wonder.]
It... it's usually something emotional. I encounter some frustration where I know that I should know something. A person looks disappointed when I say the wrong thing. I don't recall a name. Someone calls out to me, and I do not recognize their face. It feels like pieces of me gone, just... not there and it lurks while I smile and wait it out.
no subject
As long as no one gets hurt, including yourself, I won't tell you to do something else.
[ It sounded terrible. She couldn't imagine the weight of something like that hanging over her shoulder.] It sounds like being stuck in a room with someone you can't see, but know is there. Very unsettling.
no subject
Sometimes, when they are standing in the room with me. I can see them, but not see them. I see them, but I remember them as a rumor from someone else's notes.
I remember this place, my own past like someone remembers a child's novel. It feels... disjointed. Strange. Surreal.
no subject
No one remembers anything about their time in the life after death here. I wonder if there is something that is particularly traumatizing. The human mind can better adjust to a single event, but repeated traumas can cause the mind to separate and break down slowly. Memory loss and moments of disassociation are common.
Again, I’m not a psychologist, but I know enough to consider it possible that there is something we are seeing there that is causing a disconnect from ourselves. Perhaps even the lives we live here and the lives we live at home. The brain always wants to create peace and balance. The fear that we are experiencing repeatedly makes that difficult.
no subject
Reaper... mentioned seven being a lucky number. I wouldn't suggest anyone take that risk, but that might be a number to avoid.