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Lightbringer
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Finn shook his head initially when she asked about pain. He didn't feel much pain at all anymore--much like Xevon had said. It wasn't much pain at all, just a new world. A new sensation and... feathers. Yippee. His chest lifted and fell afterwards, one hand steadying himself against the nearby dresser while the other hand lifted up to press against his forehead. His fingers tangled up in his strawberry blond hair while he pieced through what was happening. "... I think it was another memory," Finn's voice was breathless and wobbly, more on the uncertain side. He knew about modern technology but had memories about... using outdated and antique stuff. What was happening?! ... Or more accurately, what was he before? "I... I saw... I think I saw myself--a smaller version of myself at least--with a washboard. Those wooden boards with a metal ridged thing in the middle," his hand moved from his forehead down to wave and wiggle with his words, "I was washing something and it was up and down, right? Right. I... there was someone else there but they were too fuzzy to see." He shook his head, confused. "You haven't had any memories at all?" His eyes turned to Lily, scanning her face for a long silent moment. "Anything?" He really didn't want to be the only one--it made him question on if... if he ... if she was even real. He had to be real if he was having memories but if she wasn't? Was any of this actually real or was he just on a long, solid limbo trip?
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Darkseeker
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Lily tried to work out what that look was that splashed across his features before she could get a reply. Dipping her head a little to try and get a better viewing point. For a moment, her eyes drew up to where his hair was sticking out from between his fingers like spikes of dry grass. "A memory?" She ventured, repeating him. "A washing board? I haven't seen one in person before, but yes I know what you mean." Her voice was slow and careful, treading on eggshells around the topic. It was unusual to have a memory of using one, the only places she had seen them were on historical shows. Lily cleared her throat as she was suddenly the object of the conversation. "I can't say I have, I mean I remember who I am for the most part, but I don't know anything more than my name really..." She pulled her lip, biting at some of the dry skin on the bottom one. "I-I'm sorry, I haven't remembered anything yet." She felt like she had offended him perhaps with her lack of memory returning. He had spoken about it a few times, yet she had nothing. Not even a glimpse when she was asleep. Then she remembered the metallic weight in her back pocket, feeling the pull of the object on her jeans she pondered, maybe now she would start to get returning memories. Perhaps the talismans had been the key to bringing them out and she had only just obtained hers. Lily went to move and retrieve it from her back pocket, but the movement made the drying blood on her arms stretch. Making its presence known again, she grimaced at the feeling. "Can we talk about this more when we aren't covered in your blood?"
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Lightbringer
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Finn shook his head lightly, lowering his hand to his sides as he paced back and forth. "No, no, you're right. We should talk more when we actually clean up a bit. You should go first," he offered, gesturing to the bathroom with the same hand he had just had tangled up in his strawberry blond hair. His gaze swiveled from right to left before he opted to just sit down on the floor where he was. He didn't want to get one of the beds dirty--even though there were probably at least a hundred other beds he could use. Dozens of rooms that they could move into and just leave this one behind entirely. He rested his hands in his lap, chewing inwardly on his lip as he pieced through his thoughts. Thoughts that seemed to fall all over each other like dripping sand. Xevon sighed softly, settling down beside him--despite knowing he couldn't really see him at all. He hadn't gone through that. He hadn't lost memories and remembered them through the trickling light of a pinhole. He had all of his memories. He had been in this hotel as a tourist--a person on vacation. It was a "haunted" hotel or whatever legend that the locals had woven up. He hadn't realized that it wasn't haunted--for real--and that it was a sacrificial move from the local following of a deranged god-like figure. Luckily, he was the last of the tourists to get trapped in that facade.
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